When Earth is waking from her winter dream, And Sunlight calls to life each sleeping stream; When songsters shall return on joyful wings, ’Tis then the mind awakes to grander things. Faith in our God becomes a mighty power,— Deep rooted in the soul it grows each hour. Hope springs to life and, like the budding rose, Admits the light, and thus diviner grows. Sweet Charity, the greatest of the three, Unlocks the dormant heart with magic key,— Then enters Joy, the ever welcomed guest, To quiet Sorrow, and to bid her rest. The waking Earth demands the watchful eye, While day by day new glories round her lie. No longer shall we sleep away the hours, But wake to life as wake the budding flowers,— Breathing to others, in our life’s brief day, Fragrance and beauty as they pass our way. No longer shall we wait for better days, But, like the bird, sing forth His endless praise, And in the hour new hope and pleasure bring To those who listen but care not to sing. No longer shall we rest and vainly dream, But wake as wakes again the living stream, Ever to broaden as we onward go, Bearing to thirsting souls the joys we know.