Dark-green and gemm'd with flowers of snow, With close uncrowded branches spread Not proudly high, nor meanly low, A graceful myrtle rear'd its head.

The Dove, on silver pinions, winged her peaceful way.

Yet nightly pitch my moving tent, a day's march nearer home.

Hymns should have unity, graduation and mutual dependence in the thoughts, a conscious progress, a sense of completeness and be easily understood.

Dark-green and gemm'd with flowers of snow, With close uncrowded branches spread Not proudly high, nor meanly low, A graceful myrtle rear'd its head.

Songs of praise the angels sang, Heav'n with alleluias rang, when creation was begun, when God spoke and it was done.

There is a flower, a little flower With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky.