When Summer Outpours Her Wealth

When summer outpours her wealth untold,
And meadows are decked with green and gold,
There cometh an hour to praise and pray,
We call it the Children’s Day.

Sweet flowers are blooming everywhere,
With perfume filling all the air,
While carrolling birds their voices raise
And join in our songs of praise.

Yes, gayly the birds sing everywhere,
And flowers bedeck the altar fair,
All made by the one we come to praise,
This sweetest of summer days. [Refrain]

Each field is a garden full of bloom,
The rarest may fill this holy room,
Fair lilies as pure as beams of light,
And garlands of roses bright. [Refrain]