When snow lies deep we wonder where
October hid her gold;
The chipmunks guard her secret well,
Nor have the sparrows told;
But underneath the winder white,
If we would care to peek,
Lie piles and piles of autumn-gold
Revealed to all who seek.
Sometimes the bright gold threads of faith
Are hidden from our view,
When we are blinded by some grief
The heart is going through;
But underneath the cloud of pain,
If we would try to see,
Shines all the golden faith we knew"
In our serenity.