I too will wait with thee returning spring,
When thick the leaves shall cling on every bough,
And birds within their new grown arbor sing,
Unmindful of the storms that tore me now;
For I have stripped me naked to the blast,
That now in triumph through my branches rides;
But soon the winter's bondage shall be past,
To him who in the Savior's love abides;
And as his Father to thy limbs returns,
Blossoms and bloom to sprinkle o'er thy dress,
So shall Christ call from out their funeral urns,
Those who in patience still their souls possess;
And clothe in raiments never to wax old,
All whom his Father gave him for his fold.