Upon the patient earth
A thousand tempests beat,
To call to life the flowers
That make her glad and sweet.
So, o’er the human heart
The countless griefs that roll
But wake immortal joy
To bloom within the soul.
Upon the patient earth
A thousand tempests beat,
To call to life the flowers
That make her glad and sweet.
So, o’er the human heart
The countless griefs that roll
But wake immortal joy
To bloom within the soul.