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 th' unknown to-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 field 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.