There's never a night but is followed by day,
And the darkest to dawn must give place:
There's never a sorrow that crosses our way
But is sent with a message of grace.
It comes to the peasant, it comes to the king,
It comes in our pleasures and pain;
It comes from the Father of mercies, to bring
To His fold His own stray ones again.
O soul! is thy burden too heavy to bear?
Does the load seem too weighty for one?
There's a Helper at hand all thy sorrows to share,
'Tis thy Father's own well-beloved Son.
Then cast every burden on Jesus thy Lord,
And thy troubles will quickly depart;
Make every sweet promise in His precious Word
An entrance to His loving heart.