  By J. C. A. Day of softest, fairest beauty, Summer’s breath o’er land and sea, While the sunshine’s golden quiver, Falls on hill, and wood, and river, Far as the eye can see, Every wandering breeze comes laden With the scent of dewy flowers, And all Nature’s heart rejoices, With her sweet and heaven-taught voices, Throughout the glowing hours. In this grey old world not often Such a day to us is sent, Yet amidst its purest gladness Comes a thrill of yearning sadness To mar our sweet content. And when life’s full cup o’erflowing With the love which makes our gain, And the rapture surely given As a foretaste of God’s heaven,— ’Tis bliss akin to pain. So in hours of love and sunshine, As in days when storms beat high, We have still a sure voice teaching, Far beyond earth’s wisest preaching, Our immortality. Not until we reach that city Where our loved and lost abide, When Christ greets us at the portal, And we taste the life immortal, We shall be satisfied. decorative line |
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