Could something only make today
As lovely as tomorrow,
As free from care and shadows gray,
As void of tears and sorrow,
The world would be a perfect place,
Without a woe to blight it.
Earth would be rich in every grace,
With happiness to light it.
Yet day is day, and life is life.
Time e’er repeats its story.
Each morning brings its toil and strife,
Likewise its gleam of glory.
Each brings its mingled shine and shade,
Its mingled joy and sorrow,
For each today God ever made
Was wrought from a tomorrow.