We cannot find the tangled end, So blindly do we seek; We stumble o’er the rugged path, With steps grown faint and weak; We cannot make the crooked straight, Nor light the darkened road, Nor can we ease our aching hearts Of all their weary load; And so we totter on our way, And cannot comprehend The meaning of Life’s mysteries, And how each one shall end: Why hearts should ache and spirits bleed, And faint beneath the rod, Till, in their agony of need, They cry to Thee, O God! Above the clouds that darkly lower The sun is shining bright. And through the spirit’s saddest hour The soul gains strength and might. We may not find the comforter For all our woe or pain, Yet God is the interpreter, “And he will make it plain.” Oh, saddened hearts! oh, stricken souls! Who long for peace and rest, The Father’s love about you rolls, And that will make you blest! Infinitude can never err; Its mysteries he’ll explain— “God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.” Dear teachers of the “Living Word,” Whose souls are bathed in light, With every impulse nobly stirred To battle for the right, To you belief can never err, Nor “scan his works in vain,” For God is your interpreter, And He hath made it plain. O Father, God! to thee we pray For strength to do Thy will, And as we journey on our way, Fulfill Thy purpose still; And through all weakness may we join The angels’ sweet refrain— “God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.” DOWN BY THE SEA. Down by the sea, the gleaming sands Forever beckon to the waves, The seagull flits along the shore Or nestles in its rocky caves; The billows chant their sweet refrain Of life forever grand and free, And deep-toned harmonies repeat Their mystic rhythms to the sea.