There is a little flower that grows
With tender golden heart,
Despite the snows.
There is a little lamp whose light
Friendly and sacred burns
Throughout the night.
So is the mighty faith that grows
In tender loving heart,
Despite earth's woes,
And love that consecrated burns
To cheer the pilgrim's night,
Till day returns.
Thus, even thus, the saints have trod,
Proving by day and night
The love of God.
