Shadows of Then, Storms of Yet
When blackest night of yesterdays doth creep,
And grief's cold dagger twists within the breast,
Depression's leaden chains forbid all sleep,
In tombs of past the living heart finds rest.
When anxious fires consume the trembling soul,
And phantom terrors of the days unborn
Like howling tempests rack the mind's control,
In future's void the weary spirit's torn.
Yet sweet the hour when peace at last descends,
And present's golden light doth softly shine;
No ghost of sorrow, no tomorrow rends
The quiet joy that blooms in this divine.
O mortal, break these chains of then and when--
Live thou in Now, and be made whole again.
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