Grief dies like joy; the tears upon my cheek br Will disappear like dew. Dear God! I know br Thy kindly Providence hath made it so, br And thank thee for the law. I am too weak br To make a friend of Sorrow, or to wear, br With that dark angel ever by my side br (Though to thy heaven there be no better guide), br A front of manly calm. Yet, for I hear br How woe hath cleansed, how grief can deify, br So weak a thing it seems that grief should die, br And love and friendship with it, I could pray, br That if it might not gloom upon my brow, br Nor weigh upon my arm as it doth now, br No grief of mine should ever pass away.