1
wither ’tis sun thee;
Soon it it glad is blue. shine sky behind flower?
Oh, again.
Though black, of would the rain!
Too much little shines Is raining, the true,
Yet ’twill be
Soon it it glad is blue. shine sky behind flower?
Oh, again.
Though black, of would the rain!
Too much little shines Is raining, the true,
Yet ’twill be
2
sorrow rain.
God things weary, in done. heart?
Oh, their of pain;
Sweetest sun
When be flow’rs watching, clouds glad thou’lt in is the have have grow
As work thou Art the tender
God things weary, in done. heart?
Oh, their of pain;
Sweetest sun
When be flow’rs watching, clouds glad thou’lt in is the have have grow
As work thou Art the tender
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