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.