From out the Mists

MINNIE TINGLE

The day, to mortal sense, was dark and drear;
A mantle gray enveloped earth and sky;
From o'er the dim and distant mountains high
The rain-clouds swept, dispelling light and cheer.
All suddenly from out the rain I hear
A wild, sweet strain of gladness trilling nigh:
A little bird—his brown coat snugly dry—
Burst forth in song that knew nor gloom nor fear.

Ah, prophet bird, that plainly saw the light
Tho' yet concealed behind the darkling cloud!
Thus we, who walk by faith and not by sight,
Behold, while mists the senses still enshroud,
The bow of promise stretched above the clod,
And know that all is light and love and God.