[“WHEN HEAVEN IS RAINING GOLD.”][1]
By CLARA THWAITES.
All rights reserved.]
There are hours when voices call us
From earth and sea and sky,
To take the benediction
Which falleth from on high;
And ere they fleet, their benison
Our eager hands may hold,
Bring out your every chalice,
When heaven is raining gold!
There are days of bright endeavour,
When the spirit is aflame
To reach unto the utmost
That human heart may claim:
Press on, ere daylight dieth;
Press on, true heart and bold;
Possess the good thou cravest,
When heaven is raining gold!
There are times of glad refreshing,
When roses strew our path,
In summer's bright effulgence
Or autumn's aftermath.
Hereafter we may wander
In darkness on the wold,
Rejoice, with joy undoubting,
When heaven is raining gold!
The storms will surely gather,
The sunshine will not last,
But the heart may count her treasures
When the skies are overcast.
Possessions past revealing
May be ours, and wealth untold,
If we but seize Love's largess,
When heaven is raining gold!