YOU

To each of us must come a day like this one now and then, A day when all the mists of old enwrap the soul again. Last night, a smile upon my lips, I gave myself to rest, To-day awoke by ancient ill, by hurts of old, oppressed. I know not why these shadows come, these shades of vain desire, I do but know they creeping come to sit beside the fire; And earth is but an empty place, and joy has flickered out, And faith has fallen by the hand, assassin hand, of doubt. I only ask in such an hour, when such shall come to me, I only ask in such an hour that You are there to see, I only ask in such an hour I need but stretch my hand And know that it shall feel the clasp of You, who understand.