Thou gav'st me many a fragrant flower,
But I have given them all away;
To restore thy gifts I have no power,
And when Thou ask'st; — what shall I say?

I'll say Thou taught'st me too to give,
And I but did what Thou hast done;
By doing what Thou do'st I live; —
And then Thou'lt call me, Lord, thy son.

'Twas Thou who gav'st them all their bloom,
Each colored leaf its differing hue;
And could I selfishly presume
What Thou hast made for all to view?

Their sweet perfume they caught from Thee,
That scented hill and lonely vale;
And could there dwell aught good in me,
And not for others too avail?

'Tis not thy gift; but that thy love
Is infinite in great & small
For even the humblest flower can prove
And show Thee Father all in all.