When the blossom from the sun Turns its head away, Not for it do sunbeams run Through the shining day. When the blossom turns again To the sun's bright face, The forgiving sunlight then Pours its golden grace. When the round earth turns aside Into winter's cold, How the merry blossoms hide, How the world grows old! When the earth again in spring To the sun returns, How all heaven's pardoning Leaps and laughs and yearns! So when hearts of human kind Turn from God away, Gloom and misery they find Darkening the day. But if they will turn again And their God adore, As in nature, so in men, All is well once more. |