prov·i·dence
noun.

1. Care or preparation in advance; foresight.
2. Prudent management; economy.
3. The care, guardianship, and control exercised by a deity; divine direction.


English translation..

Have confidence in Providence,
For Providence is kind,
And bear all life's changes
With a calm and tranquil mind.
Though pressed and hemmed on every side,
Have faith and you'll win through,
For every blade of grass
Keeps it's own drop of dew.

When away from friends, or crossed in love,
As well no doubt you've been,
Grief lies deep hidden in your heart,
Or tears flow from your eyes;
Believe it for the best,
And know there's good in store for you.
For every blade of grass
Keeps it's own drop of dew.

In long, long days of Summer,
When the clear and cloudless sky
Refuses a small drop of rain
To Nature parched and dry,
The genial night with balmy breath
Compels green to spring anew,
And every blade of grass
Keeps it's own drop of dew.

So if amid fortune's sunshine
We should feel over proud and high,
And in our pride forget
To wipe the tear from poverty's eye;
Some small dark clouds of sorrow come,
We know not when or how,
But every balde of grass
Keeps it's own drop of dew.

Confide Ye Aye in Providence, by James Ballantyne

Confide ye aye in Providence,
For Providence is kind,
And bear ye a' life's changes
Wi' a calm and tranquil mind.
Tho' press'd and hemm'd on every side,
Hae faith an ye'll win through,
For ilka blade o' grass
Keps its ain drap o' dew.

Gin reft frae friends, or cross'd in love,
As whiles nae doubt ye've been,
Grief lies deep hidden in your heart,
or tears flow frae your een;
Believe it for the best,
an' trow there's gude in store for you.
For ilka glade o' grass
keps its ain drap o' dew.

In lang lang days o' simmer,
when the clear an' cloudless sky
Refuses ae wee drap o' rain
to nature parch'd and dry,
The genial night wi' balmy breath
gars verdure spring anew,
An' ilka blade o' grass
keps its ain drap o' dew

So lest 'mid Fortune's sunshine
we should feel owre proud an' hie,
An' in our pride forget
to wipe the tear frae poortith's e'e;
Some wee dark clouds o' sorrow come,
we ken na whence or how,
But ilka blade o' grass
keps its ain drap o' dew.