|
|
|
|
A May-Day Song
The skies are clear, the flowers are bright,
The lark is on the wing;
So we will to the woodland go
Our May-day song to sing.
These happy hours, amid the flowers
Beneath the dancing leaves,
Will be, in many a cottage home,
The pleasant talk of winter eves.
The sunshine gleaming on the trees
For many a cheerful mile,
The birds' sweet song, the blooming flowers,
All seem our Father's smile.
O thank Him that He gave his Son
For sinful man to die,
And thank Him next for giving us
The bonny fields and sky. |
|
|