These hands have labored, Lord, so many years;
So many years these feet have trod this road;
So many years these shoulders, bent and weak,
Have borne their own and others' heavy load!
This heart has broken in these many years,
And tears have dimmed these eyes, till life
Has seemed but one sad wilderness, and few
The hours of peace amidst the bitter strife!
Must I, then, Lord, toil on unceasing here?
Hast thou no words of comfort for my soul?
Are all the cheerless, fainting hours to win
No progress toward my weary spirit's goal?
Nay! as I speak, I know the day will dawn
From out the dark and tempest-driven night,
When I, released, shall stand erect and free
Within the glory of that radiant light!
No more, then, heart, bewail these hours of earth,
No more shed tears of blood, for surely there,
Beyond the darkness and the pain and gloom
Shines forth the sun in lands that are most fair!