Texts
TrustThough the rain may fall and the wind be blowing,
And cold and chill is the wintry blast;
Though the cloudy sky is still cloudier growing,
And dead leaves tell that the summer has passed,
Yet my face I hold to the stormy heaven,
My heart as calm as a summer sea;
I am glad to receive what my God hath given,
Whate’er it be.
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