Poetry Saturday—The Hope Of His Coming

There is a balm for every pain,
A medicine for all sorrow;
The eye turned backward to the Cross,
And forward to the morrow.

The morrow of the glory and the psalm,
When He shall come;
The morrow of the harping and the palm,
The welcome home.

Meantime in His beloved hands our ways,
And on His Heart the wandering heart at rest;
And comfort for the weary one who lays
His head upon His Breast. —Gerhard Tersteegen
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