It can't be sunshine every day,. 

At times the tempest lowers; 

We cannot always take our way

Through meadows strewn with flowers.

There's work in life as well as play, 

There must be serious hours 

But blustering March winds lead the way 

To softer April showers.

And then will come the lovely May, 

That calls to woods and bowers,

When both alike have sped away, 

March winds and April showers.

Hope comes before the sunshine ray,

God gives to each the power 

To struggle bravely on the way

Through wind and rain and shower.

Then, little children, never fear, 

God knows each want of ours,

And sure as comes the tempest drear, 

So surely come the flowers.