And over the summer air the while,
An angels' hand should trace
"Understood," "Forgiven," "Friends for aye,"
And the links would bind so strong,
That never on earth nor in the sky
Could break with wrong or song.
I would paint every heart as a little child's—
As pure as the morning dew,
And as glad as when summer hours beguiles
With its sweetness and sunny hue,
This same wee one to its happy play,
Away from all thought of care.
I would paint to-morrow's coming day
With joys for all to share.
An angels' hand should trace
"Understood," "Forgiven," "Friends for aye,"
And the links would bind so strong,
That never on earth nor in the sky
Could break with wrong or song.
I would paint every heart as a little child's—
As pure as the morning dew,
And as glad as when summer hours beguiles
With its sweetness and sunny hue,
This same wee one to its happy play,
Away from all thought of care.
I would paint to-morrow's coming day
With joys for all to share.
No Night.
There is no night for one with perfect trust—
Just one long day;
E'en tho' trials come, as come they must,
Along life's way:
The sun shines on with pulsing glow the same—
An undimmed light;
Shadows fall, but darkness hath no name,
There is no night.
Just one long day;
E'en tho' trials come, as come they must,
Along life's way:
The sun shines on with pulsing glow the same—
An undimmed light;
Shadows fall, but darkness hath no name,
There is no night.
—27—
