Summer Storms.

I

Though the morn may be serene⁠—
Not a threat’ning cloud be seen,
Who can undertake to say
’Twill be pleasant all the day?
Tempests suddenly may rise,
Darkness overspread the skies,
Lightnings flash and thunders roar,
Ere a short-lived day be o’er.

II

Often thus the child of grace
Enters on his Christian race;
Guilt and fear are overborne,
’Tis with him a summer’s morn:
While his new-felt joys abound,
All things seem to smile around;
And he hopes it will be fair
All the day and all the year.

III

Should we warn him of a change
He would think the caution strange;
He no change or trouble fears
Till the gath’ring storm appears;
Till dark clouds his sun conceal,
Till temptation’s power he feel;
Then he trembles and looks pale,
All his hopes and courage fail.

IV

But the wonder-working Lord
Soothes the tempest by his word;
Stills the thunder, stops the rain,
And his sun breaks forth again:
Soon the cloud again returns,
Now he joys, and now he mourns;
Oft his sky is overcast
Ere the day of life be past.

V

Tried believers too can say,
In the course of one short day,
Though the morning has been fair,
Proved a golden hour of pray’r,
Sin and Satan, long ere night,
Have their comforts put to flight;
Ah! what heart-felt peace and joy
Unexpected storms destroy!

VI

Dearest Saviour, call us soon
To thy high eternal noon;
Never there shall tempest rise,
To conceal thee from our eyes:
Satan shall no more deceive,
We no more thy Spirit grieve;
But, through cloudless, endless days,
Sound to golden harps thy praise.