SHADE

The kindliest thing God ever made,

His hand of very healing laid

Upon a fevered world, is shade.

His glorious company of trees

Throw out their mantles, and on these

The dust-stained wanderer finds ease.

Green temples, closed against the beat

Of noontime's blinding glare and heat,

Open to any pilgrim's feet.

The white road blisters in the sun;

Now, half the weary journey done,

Enter and rest, Oh weary one!

And feel the dew of dawn still wet

Beneath thy feet, and so forget

The burning highway's ache and fret.

This is God's hospitality,

And whoso rests beneath a tree

Hath cause to thank Him gratefully.