Where are the countless crystals,
So perfect and so bright,

Where are the countless crystals,
So perfect and so bright,
That robed in softest ermine
The winter day and night?
Not lost!  for, life to many a foot,
They rise again in flower and fruit.

Where are the mighty forests,
And giant ferns of old,
That in primeval silence
Strange leaf and frond unrolled?
Not lost! for now they shine and blaze,
The light and warmth of Christmas days.

Where are our early lessons,
The teachings of our youth,
The countless words forgotten
Of knowledge and of truth?
Not lost! for they are living still,
As power to think, and do, and will.

Where is the seed we scatter,
With weak and trembling hand,
Beside the gloomy waters,
Or on the arid land?
Not lost! for after many days
Our prayer and toil shall turn to praise.

Where are the days of sorrow,
And lonely hours of pain,
When work is inturrupted,
Or planned and willed in vain?
Not lost!  it is the thorniest shoot
That bears the Master's pleasant fruit.

Where, where are all God's lessons,
His teachings dark or bright?
Not lost! but only hidden,
Till, in eternal light,
We see, while at His feet we fall,
The reasons and results of all.

~ Frances Ridley Havergal

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