What is it in a sunrise-red,
Over morning's Eastern hills;
That never fails to inspire the mind,
And chase away our ills.

Why is the sight of song-birds high,
Playing light upon the air;
A delight to the hearts both young and old,
Fading worries from our care.

I like to see on hot summer days,
There rolling from the West;
A herd of restless rain-filled clouds,
Chasing birds back to their nest.

The taste of air washed fresh and sweet,
Now cool upon the breeze;
And the way the leaves all play about,
When there's wind up in the trees.

They're all reminders of the joy,
That God can send our way;
There's riches for-the-taking in,
The living of each day.