The Song of the Harlequin

I am but a funny clown;
When I frolic through the town,
Children laugh with cheerful glee;
How they love to play with me!

Happy world of make-believe!
Fancy reigneth morn and eve,
Holding somber thoughts at bay;
Melancholy flies away.

Some may comment with a frown
That I am a foolish clown,
Living in a world not real,
Where there are no wounds to heal.

Yet my joy is rooted where
No misfortune brings despair.
For my Savior brings me joy
That no man shall e'er destroy.

As I cheer the little child
With caprices tender, mild,
So my Savior smiles at me,
Bringing joy eternally.