MY GARDEN-GROUND.
27
Look to the plains of Paradise
Where joys immortal beam;
There thou wilt find thy bud a flower,
Thy rippling brook a stream.
Where joys immortal beam;
There thou wilt find thy bud a flower,
Thy rippling brook a stream.
"One flows in anthems rich in praise
In heaven's eternal rest;
Thy folded bud will blossom fair
On Jesu's tender breast.
Soon shall the singing of the birds
Rejoice thy listening ear;
The shadows lengthening in the sun
Disclose the dawn is near."
In heaven's eternal rest;
Thy folded bud will blossom fair
On Jesu's tender breast.
Soon shall the singing of the birds
Rejoice thy listening ear;
The shadows lengthening in the sun
Disclose the dawn is near."
Now on I go, and bless the spot
Where once the brooklet ran,
And trace the wisdom and the love
That led the Husbandman
To lend awhile the pleasant plant
That graced my garden-ground;
And those, the dearest to my heart,
Christ hath the fairest found.
Where once the brooklet ran,
And trace the wisdom and the love
That led the Husbandman
To lend awhile the pleasant plant
That graced my garden-ground;
And those, the dearest to my heart,
Christ hath the fairest found.