Bloom from the garden, and flowers from the field;
Gifts for the stricken ones, knowing Thou carest
More for the love than the wealth that we yield.
2
Send, Lord, by these to the sick and the dying,
Speak to their hearts with a message of peace;
Comfort the sad, who in weakness are lying,
Grant the departing a gentle release.
3
Raise, Lord, to health those again who have sickened,
Fair be their lives as the roses in bloom;
Give of Thy grace to the souls Thou hast quickened,
Gladness for sorrow, and brightness for gloom.
4
We, Lord, like flowers, must bloom and must wither;
We, like these blooms, must fade and must die;
Gather us, Lord, to Thy bosom forever,
Grant us a place in Thy house in the sky.
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