I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley.
Happy days roll onward leading up to golden years.
Faith is believing what we cannot prove.
I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.
God and Nature met in light.
Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering 'it will be happier'.