It is not always Summer, Love,
It can't be always June;
But when the Winter's coldest, Love,
The Spring is coming soon.

It can't be always day, my Love,
It must be sometimes night;
But when the night is darkest, Love,
'T is just before the light.

We cannot always rest, my Love,
For they must work who eat;
But when our toil is hardest, Love,
Our rest is twice as sweet.

The brightest skies will surely, Love,
Be sometimes overcast;
But sure we are the longest storm
Will clear away at last.

We cannot walk as pilgrims do
And bear no burdens here;
We cannot walk with friends on earth
And drop no friendly tear.

But burdens heavier seem to grow
When near the journey's end;
And hearts that break with mortal love
Immortal love can mend.

The treasure which we lose on earth,
Though hidden in the ground,
Shall, when we reach our journey's end,
In safety all be found.

Then cheerily let us meet life's ills,
And all life's duties do;
But while we bear the cross, my Love,
We 'll keep the crown in view!