AS through a glass, but dimly, We are seen by mortal ken, And exteriors, soft and seemly, Oft deceive the eyes of men; The heart oft closes on the cares That in its deep cells lie, That none may gaze upon its tears But the All-Seeing Eye.
In cheerful songs of mirth and glee, The playful voice is heard In strains as glad and wild and free As songs of forest bird; But the Eye that never slumbers, Ever watchful, sees the art By which the gladsome numbers Steal so lightly from the heart.
The tripping feet dance lightly To the pealing sounds of joy, And the laughing eye beams brightly, While gay wit the lips employ, Till earthly observations fail The heart's gloom to descry; Yet angel fingers lift the veil To the All-Seeing Eye.