Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.

We have a friend and protector, from whom, if we do not ourselves depart from Him, nor power nor spirit can separate us. In His strength let us proceed on our journey, through the storms, and troubles, and dangers of the world. However they may rage and swell, though the mountains shake at the tempests, our rock will not be moved: we have one friend who will never forsake us; one refuge, where we may rest in peace and stand in our lot at the end of the days. That same is He who liveth, and was dead; who is alive forevermore; and hath the keys of hell and of death.

The flowers of Spring may wither, the hope of Summer fade, The Autumn droop in Winter, the birds forsake the shade; The winds be lull'd—the Sun and Moon forget their old decree, But we in Nature's latest hour, O Lord! will cling to Thee.

When the veil of death has been drawn between us and the objects of our regard, how quick-sighted do we become to their merits, and how bitterly do we remember words, or even looks, of unkindness which may have escaped in our intercourse with them.

Eternity has no gray hairs! The flowers fade, the heart withers, man grows old and dies, the world lies down in the sepulchre of ages, but time writes no wrinkles on the brow of Eternity.

When Spring unlocks the flowers To paint the laughing soil; When summer's balmy breezes Refresh the mower's toil; When winter holds in frosty chains The fallow and the flood; In God the earth rejoices still, And owns her Maker good.

Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.