The Dove, on silver pinions, winged her peaceful way.
The tulip's petals shine in dew, All beautiful, but none alike.
Night is the time to weep,To wet with unseen tearsThose graves of memory where sleepThe joys of other years.
When to the cross I turn my eyes,And rest on Calvary,O Lamb of God, my sacrifice,I must remember Thee.
Blue thou art, intensely blue; Flower, whence came thy dazzling hue?
Baptize the nations! far and nigh,The triumphs of the cross recordThe name of Jesus glorify,Till every people call Him Lord.