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.