'T was but a violet in a glen—
It gave its praise to God;
Obedient to the law of Love,
It smiled above the sod.
No place it craved except to be
Where Love had set its bloom,
To voice the song of beauty free
In nature's mansion room.
No power it sought except to show
The power of Love to give;
To make the thought of Love be known—
‘T was Love that made it live.
Make us, O Father-Mother Love,
Content to serve and be
Wherever we should bear our part:
Thy purpose may we see.
Reveal to us our given place
Love-ordered from above,
On hill, in glen, on land, on sea,
To serve the will of Love.
