When the Sparkle Died Out of the Dew
By L. D. Santee
I looked at the hills in the morning.
Sweet valleys lay smiling between.
Then I lifted my soul to the Blessed,
Whose love in His mercies is seen.
The sun brought a flush as of roses
To the green earth, and heaven so blue;
But a cloud hid the beautiful sunlight,
And the sparkle died out of the dew. I prayed in my heart to the Saviour,
That His love might illumine my way,
That the sunshine and joy of His presence
Would brighten each wearisome day,
That strength for each duty be given,
That I to my Saviour prove true,
And not like the change in the morning,
When the sparkle died out of the dew. The joy that to me has been given,
In language can never be told;
And my dream of the glory of heaven
Is Christ in the gateway of gold;
And I pray that no cloud may o'ershadow
The faith that my heart holds as true,
Like the darkening cloud in the morning,
When the sparkle died out of the dew.