God means us to be happy;
He fills the short-lived years
With loving, tender mercies--
With smiles as well as tears.
Flowers blossom by the pathway,
Or, withering, they shed
Their sweetest fragrance over
The bosoms of our dead.
God filled the earth with beauty;
He touched the hills with light;
He crowned the waving forest
With living verdure bright;
He taught the bird its carol,
He gave the wind its voice,
And to the smallest insect
Its moment to rejoice.
What life hath not its blessing?
Who hath not songs to sing,
Or grateful words to utter,
Or wealth of love to bring?
Tried in affliction's furnace
The gold becomes more pure--
So strong doth sorrow make us,
So patient to endure.
No way is dark and dreary
If God be with us there;
No danger can befall us
When sheltered by his care.
Why should our eyes be blinded
To all earth's glorious bloom?
Why sit we in the shadow
That falls upon the tomb?
Look up and catch the sunbeams!
See how the day doth dawn!
Gather the scented roses
That grow beside the thorn!
God's pitying love doth seek us;
He leads us to his rest;
And from a thousand pathways
He chooses what is best.