HOW does the Spring come? With many mischances.

Now the frost pricketh sore, then the sun glances;

Now the rain beateth down, then the snow falleth,

Nothing the cheery, brave Springtime appalleth.

Bravely she smiles through the somber chill weather,

Smiles on the blight and the promise together;

And at the end of the long suffering

All the world over is ruled by the Spring.

How does the tide come? Not all in one rising,

Daunting the land and the heavens surprising;

Here a wave, there a wave, rising and falling,

Billow to billow still beckoning and calling,

Heaving, receding, now farther, now nigher,

Now it is lower, and now it is higher;

Now it seems spent and tired; then, with insistence,

Gaily and strongly it comes from the distance;

Till, at the end of the plunge and the roar,

It is full tide, and the sea rules the shore.

How does the soul grow? Not all in a minute:

Now it may lose ground, and now it may win it;

Now it resolves, and again the will faileth;

Now it rejoiceth, and now it bewaileth;

Now its hopes fructify, then they are blighted;

Now it walks sunnily, now gropes benighted;

Fed by discouragements, taught by disaster,

So it goes forward, now slower, now faster,

Till, all the pain past, and failures made whole,

It is full grown, and the Lord rules the soul.