1 There is a Friend we often miss,
E’en ‘mid the light of day;
And none so near ‘mid grief or bliss—
Yet none so far away.
We often look, yet do not see,
And hear but will not heed;
So stumble on in mystery,
And wonder none doth lead.
Jesus, I would know Thee,
Trust Thee more and more;
Give me grace, and guard me
Till life’s cares are o’er.
2 This Friend draws near, with loving stroke,
His own sweet peace to give,
To heal the heart which spurned His yoke,
And bid its hope to live.
The orphaned soul, like little bird,
Begins to build its nest;
‘Mid God’s own glory, undisturbed,
Finds its true home and rest. [Refrain]
3 This Friend once found, we find love’s store,
And pure, unfailing light,
When beauty blossoms evermore
With ever fresh delight.
True peace here shows her smiling face,
And hope which never dies,
Sweet sympathy, with tender grace,
And joy while sorrow flies. [Refrain]
4 But ‘tis not art dispels this night,
Our tongues in sorrow sings:
Christ is not seen thro’ reason’s light,
Or tears which genius brings;
Upon the lowly, broken heart
His face will only shine;
The light and love of Heav’n impart;
Thus show that all is Thine. [Refrain]