Worry not, dear flower,
Night doth not lurk by;
but he doth remember,
yet he shall say goodbye.
His immensity thereof,
fear not, I;
for I know, He, above,
holdeth me high.
I look to Thee, after,
to mine own flower, I turn.
I know Thou lovest her,
and I shall give in return:
My love, my praise,
my servitude, my thanks,
my time, and my prayers;
I'll sing Thy songs, Thy hymns.
I thank Thee, dear Father,
With all my soul, I doth,
thank Thee, for her,
so I shall deny Ye not.
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