Sometimes a light surprises

The Christian while he sings;

It is the Lord who rises

With healing in His wings:

When comforts are declining,

He grants the soul again

A season of clear shining,

To cheer it after rain.

In holy contemplation,

We sweetly then pursue

The theme of God's salvation,

And find it ever new.

Set free from present sorrow,

We cheerfully can say,

E'en let the unknown morrow

Bring with it what it may.

It can bring with it nothing

But He will bear us through;

Who gives the lilies clothing

Will clothe His people too:

Beneath the spreading heavens

No creature but is fed;

And He who feeds the ravens

Will give His children bread.

Though vine nor fig-tree neither

Their wonted fruit should bear,

Though all the field should wither,

Nor flocks nor herds be there,

Yet, God the same abiding,

His praise shall tune my voice,

For, while in Him confiding,

I cannot but rejoice.