COMFORT

Say! You've struck a heap of trouble —

Bust in business, lost your wife;

No one cares a cent about you,

You do n't care a cent for life;

Hard luck has of hope bereft you,

Health is failing, wish you'd die —

Why, you've still the sunshine left you,

And the big, blue sky.

Sky so blue it makes you wonder

If it's heaven shining through;

Earth so smiling‘ way out yonder,

Sun so bright it dazzles you;

Birds a-singing, flowers a-flinging

All their fragrance on the breeze;

Dancing shadows, green, still meadows —

Do n't you mope, you've still got these.

These, and none can take them from you;

These, and none can weigh their worth.

What! you're tired and broke and beaten?—

Why, you're rich — you've got the earth!

Yes, if you're a tramp in tatters,

While the blue sky bends above,

You've got nearly all that matters,

You've got God, and God is love.