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 shall bear;

Though all the fields 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.