FFLOWERS die not in the winter-tide,Although they wake in spring;Pillowed ’neath mounds of fleecy snow,While skies are gray and storm-winds blow,All patiently they bide,Fettered by frost, and bravely wait,And trust in spring or soon or late.Hope dies not in the winter-tide,Though sore it longs for spring;Cool morn may ripen to hot noon,And evening dusks creep all too soonThe noonday sun to hide;But through the night there stir and thrillThe sleeping strengths of life and will.For souls there comes a winter-tide,For souls there blooms a spring;Though winter days may linger long,And snows be deep and frosts be strong,And faith be sorely tried,When Christ shall shine, who is the Sun,Spring-time shall be for every one.Oh, mighty Lord of winter-tide!Oh, loving Lord of spring!Come to our hearts this Easter Day,Melt all the prisoning ice away,And evermore abide,Making both good and ill to beThy blessed opportunity.
FFLOWERS die not in the winter-tide,Although they wake in spring;Pillowed ’neath mounds of fleecy snow,While skies are gray and storm-winds blow,All patiently they bide,Fettered by frost, and bravely wait,And trust in spring or soon or late.Hope dies not in the winter-tide,Though sore it longs for spring;Cool morn may ripen to hot noon,And evening dusks creep all too soonThe noonday sun to hide;But through the night there stir and thrillThe sleeping strengths of life and will.For souls there comes a winter-tide,For souls there blooms a spring;Though winter days may linger long,And snows be deep and frosts be strong,And faith be sorely tried,When Christ shall shine, who is the Sun,Spring-time shall be for every one.Oh, mighty Lord of winter-tide!Oh, loving Lord of spring!Come to our hearts this Easter Day,Melt all the prisoning ice away,And evermore abide,Making both good and ill to beThy blessed opportunity.
FFLOWERS die not in the winter-tide,Although they wake in spring;Pillowed ’neath mounds of fleecy snow,While skies are gray and storm-winds blow,All patiently they bide,Fettered by frost, and bravely wait,And trust in spring or soon or late.
F
FLOWERS die not in the winter-tide,
Although they wake in spring;
Pillowed ’neath mounds of fleecy snow,
While skies are gray and storm-winds blow,
All patiently they bide,
Fettered by frost, and bravely wait,
And trust in spring or soon or late.
Hope dies not in the winter-tide,Though sore it longs for spring;Cool morn may ripen to hot noon,And evening dusks creep all too soonThe noonday sun to hide;But through the night there stir and thrillThe sleeping strengths of life and will.
Hope dies not in the winter-tide,
Though sore it longs for spring;
Cool morn may ripen to hot noon,
And evening dusks creep all too soon
The noonday sun to hide;
But through the night there stir and thrill
The sleeping strengths of life and will.
For souls there comes a winter-tide,For souls there blooms a spring;Though winter days may linger long,And snows be deep and frosts be strong,And faith be sorely tried,When Christ shall shine, who is the Sun,Spring-time shall be for every one.
For souls there comes a winter-tide,
For souls there blooms a spring;
Though winter days may linger long,
And snows be deep and frosts be strong,
And faith be sorely tried,
When Christ shall shine, who is the Sun,
Spring-time shall be for every one.
Oh, mighty Lord of winter-tide!Oh, loving Lord of spring!Come to our hearts this Easter Day,Melt all the prisoning ice away,And evermore abide,Making both good and ill to beThy blessed opportunity.
Oh, mighty Lord of winter-tide!
Oh, loving Lord of spring!
Come to our hearts this Easter Day,
Melt all the prisoning ice away,
And evermore abide,
Making both good and ill to be
Thy blessed opportunity.