Poems (Hale)/The Voice of the Flowers
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.
Their fragrant odors rise to heaven 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.
They woo us with their balmy breath. 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.