Into the Light

IDA F. W. FOSTER

The way seems dark, my Father;
Cloud upon cloud seems drifting slowly o'er my head
And loud the thunders roar about me;
When lo! above these clouds of fear I see Thee stand,
And hear Thee say, in voice of sweet command,
"Fear not," and, "Take my hand."

And through the clouds of sorrow, sickness, sin, and fear,
The light of Truth shines clearly far and near,
And leads me to behold the secret place
Where Love doth dwell, and from the gloom
Leads safely home His child so dear.

Thus led, the way still brighter grows,
And though I sometimes stumble and forget,
I closer cling, and ne'er look back with longing or regret.
Thus ever with my face turned tow'rd the light, my hand in
His,
I know that I shall stand upon the height and see Him as
He is.

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