William Cowper (1731–1800)

Sometimes a light surprizes

        The christian while he sings;

It is the Lord who rises

        With healing on 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 thro’;

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.

Tho’ vine, nor fig-tree neither,

        Their wonted fruit should bear,

Tho’ all the fields 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.