SUMMER-TIDE is coming,
   With all its pleasant things;
Every bee is humming
   And every songster sings.
Mornings now are brightsome,
   Inviting student thought;
Evenings, too, are lightsome,
   With balmy quiet fraught.
Hearths no longer lure us,
   The fields instead we roam;
Hearts albeit insure us
   A happy, happy home.

Summer-tide, I hail thee,
   The empress of the year!
But thou soon wouldst fail me,
   Were not thy Maker near.
He thy course disposes,
   Thy light, thy scent, thy glow;
He tints all thy roses,
   And paints thy brilliant bow.
Laud Him, all creation,
   The sinner’s mighty Friend;
Near Him be our station,
   Where summer ne’er shall end.

                          W. H. H.

Frances Ridley Havergal from RED LETTER DAYS