December's As Pleasant As May

How tedious and tasteless the hours 
When Jesus no longer I see! 
Sweet prospects, sweet birds and sweet flow'rs 
Have all lost their sweetness to me. 

The midsummer sun shines but dim, 
The fields strive in vain to look gay; 
but when I am happy in Him 
December's as pleasant as May. 

Content with beholding His face, 
My all to His pleasure resigned; 
No changes of season or place, 
Would make any change in my mind. 

While blessed with a sense of His love, 
A palace a toy would appear;
And prisons would palaces prove, 
If Jesus would dwell with me there. 

My Lord, if indeed I am Thine, 
If Thou art my sun and my song, 
Say, why do I languish and pine? 
And why are my winters so long? 

Oh, drive these dark clouds from the sky, 
Thy soul-cheering presence restore; 
Or take me to Thee up on high, 
Where winter and clouds are no more. 


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