The world was dark and stormy
Rain beat upon the sod;
I felt as miserable as the earth looked
And I thought – There is no God.
The world was bright and sunny
Flowers lifted drooping heads
The grass was soft and green beneath me
And I cried - My God! He is not dead!
Oh so fickle, very fickle are emotions
In the human heart and will;
They lift us up, they drive us down
Until we are worn and torn and still.
But then His soft and gentle voice
Is able to be heard at last
“Come unto ME my child and rest
Until this storm is passed!”