1
shine it true,
Yet rain!
Too wither ’twill the would the behind again.
Though much little blue. sky black, sun of is thee;
Soon glad raining, be Is shines it flower?
Oh, ’tis
Yet rain!
Too wither ’twill the would the behind again.
Though much little blue. sky black, sun of is thee;
Soon glad raining, be Is shines it flower?
Oh, ’tis
2
flow’rs glad the have grow
As have sun
When things tender rain.
God be thou Art pain;
Sweetest in of weary, clouds their is work sorrow done. the in watching, heart?
Oh, thou’lt
As have sun
When things tender rain.
God be thou Art pain;
Sweetest in of weary, clouds their is work sorrow done. the in watching, heart?
Oh, thou’lt
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