May Riley Smith
Let us gather up the sunbeams
Lying all around our path;
Let us keep the wheat and roses,
Casting out the thorns and chaff;
Let us find our sweetest comfort
In the blessings of today,
With a patient hand removing
All the briars from the way.

Then scatter seeds of kindness,
Then scatter seeds of kindness,
Then scatter seeds of kindness
For our reaping by-and-by.

Strange, we never prize the music
Till the sweet-voiced bird has flown!
Strange, that we should slight the violets
Till the lovely flowers are gone!
Strange, that summer skies and sunshine
Never seem one half so fair,
As when winter’s snowy pinions
Shake the white down in the air. [Refrain]

If we knew the baby fingers,
Pressed against the window pane,
Would be cold and stiff to-morrow”
Never trouble us again”
Would the bright eyes of our darling
Catch the frown upon our brow!
Would the print of rosy fingers
Vex us then as they do now? [Refrain]

Ah! those little ice-cold fingers,
How they point our memories back
To the hasty words and actions
Strewn along our backward track!
How those little hands remind us,
As in snowy grace they lie,
Not to scatter thorns”but roses”
For our reaping by and by!

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