Comfort
Say! You’ve struck a heap of trouble—
Bust in business, lost your wife;
No one cares a cent about you,
You don’t care a cent for life;
Hard luck has of hope bereft you,
Health is failing, wish you’d die—
Why, you’ve still the sunshine left you
And the big, blue sky.
Sky so blue it makes you wonder
If it’s heaven shining through;
Earth so smiling 'way out yonder,
Sun so bright it dazzles you;
Birds a—singing, flowers a—flinging
All their fragrance on the breeze;
Dancing shadows, green, still meadows—
Don’t you mope, you’ve still got these.
These, and none can take them from you;
These, and none can weigh their worth.
What! you’re tired and broke and beaten?—
Why, you’re rich—you’ve got the earth!
Yes, if you’re a tramp in tatters,
While the blue sky bends above
You’ve got nearly all that matters—
You’ve got God, and God is love.
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