Dark , utter dark; no faintest ray
To light the way
Of sunset-gleam or coming day!

The vision aches with lack of sight,
For depth and height
Are one vast blank of baffling night.

Oh that the soul might be at rest;
Might yield her quest,
With the sole thought of God possessed!

That she might close her wearied eyes
And blindfold-wise
Walk on as under shining skies;

As seeing Him who is unseen;
And wait serene
Though twofold night should intervene!

O touch of God! O miracle
That none may tell!
Her eyes are closed and all is well.

Though twofold night doth round her press
She knows no less
He will not leave her comfortless.

The desolate Cry on Calvary's height,
Its mid-day night,
Her pledges are of coming light.