Every Morning The Red Sun

Every morning the red sun

Rises warm and bright;

But the evening cometh on,

And the dark, cold night.

There's a bright land far away,

Where 'tis never-ending day.

Every spring the sweet young flowers

Open bright and gay,

Till the chilly autumn hours

Wither them away.

There's a land we have not seen,

Where the trees are always green.

Little birds sing songs of praise

All the summer long,

But in colder, shorter days

They forget their song.

There's a place where angels sing

Ceaseless praises to their King.

Christ our Lord is ever near

Those who follow Him;

But we cannot see Him here,

For our eyes are dim;

There is a most happy place,

Where men always see His face.

Who shall go to that bright land?

All who do the right:

Holy children there shall stand

In their robes of white;

For that Heav'n, so bright and blest,

Is our everlasting rest.