Charles H. Spurgeon on Psalms 147:3

O Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear,

How dark this world would be,

If, when deceived and wounded here,

We could not fly to Thee!

The friends, who in our sunshine live,

When winter comes are flown;

And he who has but tears to give

Must weep those tears alone.

But Thou wilt heal that broken heart,

Which, like the plants that throw

Their fragrance from the wounded part,

Breathes sweetness out of woe.

When joy no longer soothes or cheers,

And e'en the hope that threw

A moment's sparkle o'er our tears

Is dimmed and vanished too;

Oh! who would bear life's stormy doom,

Did not Thy wing of love

Come, brightly wafting through the gloom

Our peace branch from above?

Then sorrow, touched by Thee, grows bright

With more than rapture's ray;

As darkness shows us worlds of light

We never saw by day! —Thomas Moore, 1779-1852.