Upon the shore of time,
Where waves of years do beat,
I stood and watched as they climb
The cliffs of eternity.

In every cresting o'er the deep,
A life was borne upon the tide;
Each wave that did break at my feet,
Did bear away some soul that had died.

And yet, amidst all this great throng,
There came to me a voice soft and low:
"O mortal man! What seekest thou here?"
Then answered I: "I seek the path of woe."

"Thou seekest," quoth she, "that which is lost;
For lo! The waves have borne it away.
Seek not then for that which once was thine own,
But rather turn thy face towards the light of day."

And so saying, away did she go,
Leaving me alone upon the shore.
Then turned I my steps unto mine own home,
And left behind me all thoughts of sorrow and of woe.

Upon the canvas of the azure sky,
The sun doth paint his golden chariot's course.
His radiant beams like arrows fly,
And pierce the clouds with light's resplendent force.

The verdant fields in emerald array,
Reflect the glory of his noontide reign;
While every blossom, bathed in warm display,
Exhales its sweet perfume on the plain.

But lo! as evening's purple curtain falls,
The sun doth sink behind the western hill.
His parting rays like lovers' farewell calls,
And gilds the heavens with a rosy thrill.

Then let us praise this daily wondrous sight,
And bless the Maker of the world so bright.