If we care not for the present,
And our thoughts are on the past,
And we know not of the future
With its darkened clouds o'ercast:
When the storm-clouds of the present
Darken all our hopes and fears,
And our hearts grow sad beneath them,
And our eyes are dim with tears:
Hours of trouble, hours of sorrow,
Soon with splendor overcast,
Turn the sorrows that we borrow
Back into the distant past.
Thus with past illumination
Is our present hours made bright,
And our former darkened moments
With a glory-wave made light.
Then the beauty of the sunshine
To the present gives a glow,
As with misty gleams the future
Glances on the scenes below.
For our hearts must then grow lighter
As we catch those pleasant beams,
And our eyes with light grow brighter
With the soul's reflecting dreams.
And the storm-clouds that o'ershadow,
Pass away beneath the rays
Of a former golden pastime,
As reflected on our ways.
Teaching us that 'neath the curtain
Where the darkness lurks within,
That our thoughts will cast a shadow
Where the sunlight should come in.
Thus in moments when we're nervous
With a care that few can test,
Then this sunlight that is golden
Gives our soul its needed rest.
And our troubles quickly vanish
As the storm-clouds backward roll
From the glory of the spirit,
And the sunlight of the soul.
(James S. Jennings.)