1 'TIS past, the dark and dreary night:
And, Lord, we hail Thee now,
The Morning Star, without a cloud
Of sadness on Thy brow.
2 Thy path on earth, the cross, the grave,
Thy sorrows all are o'er,
And, oh, sweet thought! Thine eye shall weep,
Thy heart shall break no more.
3 Deep were those sorrows, deeper still
The love that brought Thee low,
That bade the streams of life from Thee,
A lifeless victim, flow.
4 Drawn from Thy pierced and bleeding side,
That pure and cleansing flood
Speaks peace to every heart that knows
The virtues of Thy blood.
5 Yet 'tis not that we know the joy
Of cancelled sin alone,
But, happier far, Thy saints are called
To share Thy glorious throne.
6 Yes, when the storm of life is calmed,
The dreary desert past,
Our way-worn hearts shall find in Thee
Their full repose at last.
