Though snowy peaks may cap my day,
I know somewhere that vines are twining;
Though storms and lightnings 'round me play,
Deep in my soul the sun is shining.

Though teardrops from mine eyelids start,
I know the world bows not in sorrow;
I would not have it weep, — my heart
May wake in gladness on the morrow.

O Love Divine, keep thou my land, —
My heritage of soul, — enfold it;
I know that when I reach my hand,
A Father's hand is there to hold it.