Yesterday is a part of forever,
Bound up in a sheaf, which God holds tight—
With glad days and sad days and bad days, which never
Shall visit us more with their bloom and their blight,
Their fullness of sunshine and sorrowful night.
Isn’t it strange how long a night can grow
Ere morning and the dew?
Isn’t it queer how black a cloud can blow
Before the Sun breaks through?
Faith is remembering ere breaks the day,
Or ere the storm is done,
That out of somewhere speeding on their way,
Are the morning and the Sun!”