Fewer Things so Sting the Soul

Fewer things so sting the soul
as that which we say God has stole.
Where was He who reigns with light,
in the moment of our blight?

We search and look to no avail,
for He who hides behind the veil.
Though our hearts heavily mourn--
hope remains in its truest form,
when naked eyes are blind to see
the plans with which God uses tragedy.

All is held with His palm;
His loving kindness our wounds to balm.
His judgment doth humble the proud;
His presence leaves a silent crowd.

Angelic hosts come forth from high,
to solace those who weep and cry.
For never are we left alone,
'tis in our hearts is God's holy throne.

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