1 Break through the clouds, dear Lord, and shine,
Let us perceive thee nigh!
And to each mourning child of thine,
These gracious words apply.
2 "Let not my children slight the stroke,
I for chastisement send;
Nor faint beneath my kind rebuke,
For I am still their friend.
3 "The wicked I perhaps may leave
Awhile and not reprove;
But all the children I receive,
I scourge because I love.
4 "I see your hearts at present filled
With grief and deep distress;
But soon these bitter seeds shall yield
The fruits of righteousness."
The Hartford Selection of Hymns from the most approved authors, 1799