Upward Ways

MARY T. JOHNSON

O God, whose loving tenderness
Upholds Thy children,
Whose "still small voice" of peace
With tranquil beauty quiets all my fear,
Oh, help me to know
That Thou art ever near.

Awaken this dull heart,
Put out the Pharisee that slumbers there;
Purge, with fire if need be,
From lingering sense of earthly joy and care.

If I but see Thy hand,
What matter though the way be rough and long?
I'll take my cross and bear it,
Till with dawning day, out of the night,
With radiance at last
There breaks the light.