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DAY BY DAY.
Half joy, half fears—Be the psalm of the years,
"Grief passes, blessings remain!"
"Grief passes, blessings remain!"
The Christmas that sure will come,
Let us think of, at fireside fair;—
When church bells sound o'er one small green mound,
Which the neighbors pass to prayer.
Let us think of, at fireside fair;—
When church bells sound o'er one small green mound,
Which the neighbors pass to prayer.
The Christmas that God will give,—
Long after all these are o'er,
When is day nor night, for the Lamb is our Light,
And we live forevermore.
Long after all these are o'er,
When is day nor night, for the Lamb is our Light,
And we live forevermore.
DAY BY DAY.
VERY day has its dawn,Its soft and silent eve,
Its noontide hours of bliss or bale:
Why should we grieve?
Why do we heap huge mounds of years
Before us and behind,
And scorn the little days that pass
Like angels on the wind?
Before us and behind,
And scorn the little days that pass
Like angels on the wind?
