GARDENS, WREATHS, &e. 17 



While holy Mary at thy shrine, 



Another pure flower blooms, 

 Welcome to thee with news divine,* 



The lily's faint perfume. 

 Proudly its stately head it rears. 



Arrayed in virgin white, 

 So Truth, amid a world of tears, 



Doth shine with vestal light. 



And thou, whose opening buds were shown, 



A Saviour's cross beside. 

 We hail thee. Passion Flower alone 



Sacred to Christ who died. 

 No image of a mortal love. 



May thy bright blossoms be 

 Linked with a passion far above, 



A Saviour's agony. 

 All other flowers are pale and dim. 



All other gifts are loss, 

 We twine thy matchless buds for him 



Who died on holy Cross. 



* The Lily blooms about Annunciation day. 



2* 



