God takes the scent of the softening ground
Where the first green blade pricks through;
He takes the reddening maple bough,
A-slant against the blue.
He takes the cheer of the robin's song
And the flash of the blue-bird's wing,
The joy of prisoners set free,
And of these He makes the Spring.
God takes the sheen of the waving wheat
Where the slow cloud-shadows pass;
He takes the brook's soft rippling tune
And the daisied meadow's grass.
He takes the swish of the mower's scythe
In the noontide's hot, white glare,
The joy of labor and growing things
And makes the Summer fair.
God takes the sound of the dropping nuts
and the scent of the wine-sweet air
In the twilight time of the year's long day,
When the spent Earth kneels in prayer.
He takes a thousand varied hues
Aglow in an opal haze,
The joy of the harvest gathered in
And makes the Autumn days.
God takes the peace of the snowy fields,
Asleep 'neath the clear, cold moon;
He takes the grace of the leafless trees
That sway to the wind's wild tune,
The frost-made lace on the window pane,
The whirl of the starry flakes,
The joy of rest when the toil is done,
And the quiet Winter makes.
God takes the years - the old, the new,
With their changing scenes and brief,
The close-shut bud and the fruiting bough,
Flower and fading leaf,
Grace and glory and lack and loss,
The song, the sigh, the strife,
The joy of hope and the hope fulfilled,
And makes of the years a life.
God takes our lives and the sum of them,
His will and the will of man,
Evil and good and dream and deed,
His purpose and our plan,
The thwarted lives and the crippled lives
And the things that give them worth,
The joy of life and the pain of life,
And He makes the Heavens and Earth.
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