Hark, the lilt of a robin's song!
What cares he for raindrops falling?
Piercing the clouds, the sunbeams dance,
To him, their comrade, calling.
Fresh, shy, and sweet the primrose grows,
Pure, though the earth be mud-defiled;
Rich in beauty, fair in promise,
Smiling like a little child.
Gently speaks a voice, heart-thrilling:
O storm-tossed life, O raging sea,
Peace be to thee, for the Master
Walks again on Galilee!
