There are paths where the dancing feet are pricked
By many a stinging thorn;
But the roses bloom and the sunlight streams
Where heart-aches oft are born.
For the paths we tread are moment filled
With the stirring pulse of life;
And the only way is to carry on
And conquer the battle strife.
There is sunshine drifting upon the paths
Darkened with clouds that are grey;
There are breezes that wing with a cooling breath
Upon every living way.
For clouds may come, but the clouds will go,
And heart-aches one day will cease;
For the joys of life have their bitter dregs,
But the end of the cup is peace.