A fresh young voice that sings to me
So often many a simple thing,
Should surely not unanswered be
By all that I can sing.
Dear voice, be happy every way
A thousand changing tones among,
From little child's unfinished lay
To angel's perfect song.
In dewy woods—fair, soft, and green
Like morning woods are childhood's bower—
Be like the voice of brook unseen
Among the stones and flowers;
A joyful voice though born so low,
And making all its neighbours glad;
Sweet, hidden, constant in its flow
Even when the winds are sad.
So, strengthen in a peaceful home,
And daily deeper meanings bear;
And when life's wildernesses come
Be brave and faithful there.
Try all the glorious magic range,
Worship, forgive, console, rejoice,
Until the last and sweetest change—
So live and grow, dear voice.