"All thy works praise thee."
47
The blossom only known to Thee,
A silent smile that gleams and dies,
The labor-anthem of the bee,
Whose rest in duty lies;
A silent smile that gleams and dies,
The labor-anthem of the bee,
Whose rest in duty lies;
The solemn chorus of the wind
That breathes thy power's triumphant tone,—
All frame Thy temple in my mind;
I am not here alone!
That breathes thy power's triumphant tone,—
All frame Thy temple in my mind;
I am not here alone!
