216
poems.
THE VOICE OF THE FLOWERS.
A sweet and blessed strain they swell,
The glorious-tinted flowers,
On sunny slope, in shaded dell,
To cheer our weary hours.
The glorious-tinted flowers,
On sunny slope, in shaded dell,
To cheer our weary hours.
Their fragrant odors rise to heaven
In homage and in prayer;
Silent the dewy incense given,
Yet God is hallowed there.
In homage and in prayer;
Silent the dewy incense given,
Yet God is hallowed there.
Bring them to strew around your dead,
To shine above their tomb:
Bright presage from their hues is shed
Of heaven's immortal bloom.
To shine above their tomb:
Bright presage from their hues is shed
Of heaven's immortal bloom.
They woo us with their balmy breath.
To summer bowers on high;
They point us from decay and death
To flowers which never die.
To summer bowers on high;
They point us from decay and death
To flowers which never die.
Praise to Thee, Brightener of our hours!
For this sweet ministry,
Which by the breath of Thy fair flowers
Is leading us to Thee.
For this sweet ministry,
Which by the breath of Thy fair flowers
Is leading us to Thee.
