And our faith God tries;
But a broken spirit
He can not despise.
Keep a bright face, darling—
Even while I write,
In the fields of midnight
Blossom stars of light.
Though the morning cometh
With a streak of gray,
’Tis a hint of sunshine
And our faith God tries;
But a broken spirit
He can not despise.
Keep a bright face, darling—
Even while I write,
In the fields of midnight
Blossom stars of light.
Though the morning cometh
With a streak of gray,
’Tis a hint of sunshine