Faith

Just as a flower, in lovely night,

On moonbeams fed, doth drink the dew,

So I reach up from roots in earth

To Thee, by whose design they grew.

Raging storms of Thine now have come, have gone,

Breath of Spring now fills, moonlit night superb,

Do Thou with me whate'er Thou wilt;

Thou art my gard'ner, I am Thine herb.