Lewiston Teller

There's never a day so sunny
But a little cloud appears:
There's never a life so happy
But has had its time of tears:
Yet the sun shines out the brighter
When the stormy tempest clears.

There's never a garden growing
With roses in every plot:
There's never a heart so hardened
But has one tender spot:
We have only to prune the border
To find the forget-me-not.

There's never a cup so pleasant
But has bitter with the sweet:
There's never a path so rugged
That bears not the print of feet:
And we have a helper provided
For the trials we may meet.

There's never a sun that rises
But we know 'twill set at night;
The tints that gleam in the morning.
Evening are just as bright:
And the hour that is the sweetest
Is between the dark and light,

There's never a dream that's happy
But the waking makes us sad:
There's never a dream of sorrow
But the waking makes us glad:
We shall look some day with wonder
At the troubles we have had.

There's never a way so narrow
But the entrance is made straight:
There's always a rule to point us
To the "little wicket gate;"
And the angels will be near
To a soul that is desolate.