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