Classic Poem

Sometimes a light surprizes
The Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord who rises
With healing in his wings:
When comforts are declining,
He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining
To cheer it after rain.

In holy contemplation,
We sweetly then pursue
The theme of G OD'S salvation,
And find it ever new:
Set free from present sorrow,
We cheerfully can say,
E'en let th' unknown to-morrow,
Bring with it what it may.

It can bring with it nothing
But he will bear us thro';
Who gives the lilies clothing
Will clothe his people too:
Beneath the spreading heavens,
No creature but is fed;
And he who feeds the ravens,
Will give his children bread.

Though vine, nor fig-tree neither,
Their wonted fruit should bear,
Tho' all the fields should wither,
Nor flocks, nor herds, be there:
Yet G OD the same abiding,
His praise shall tune my voice;
For while in him confiding,
I cannot but rejoice.