Rise up, my soul, in dignity and beauty. Be not dismayed by things that hurt thee so; Lift up thine head and hear a voice descending, A voice that speaks in tones so sweet and low— The voice of Him who knows your every sorrow, Who lays His hand upon your aching brow; Who weeps in silent pity when you're weary, Who longs to be of comfort to you now. It is from Him you gain the strength that's needed When paths are strewn with heartache and with pain; It is His hand that leads you ever onward, Until at last you see the light again— Rise up, my soul, and worship Him who leads thee, Within thee build a temple for thy king; For from within the darkness of thy sorrow, He can, and will, a gentle solace bring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FREDERICKSBURG by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A PRAISE OF HIS LADY by JOHN HEYWOOD DEAD IN THE SIERRAS by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER A BIRTHDAY by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI JOHN CHARLES FREMONT by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |