Slowly I Dawn On The Sleepless Eye, Like A Dreaming Thought Of Eternity; But Darkness Hangs On My Misty Vest, Like The Shade Of Care On The Sleeper'S Breast; A Light That Is Felt--But Dimly Seen, Like Hope That Hangs Life And Death Between; And The Weary Watcher Will Sighing Say, "Lord, I Thank Thee! 'Twill Soon Be Day;" The Lingering Night Of Pain Is Past, Morning Breaks In The East At Last. Mortal!--Thou Mayst See In Me A Type Of Feeble Infancy,-- A Dim, Uncertain, Struggling Ray, The Promise Of A Future Day!