1 How in the flowery spring, my God,
The buds of promise ope,
And blossom o’er life’s thorny road,
To cheer the Christian’s hope!
Like them exulting from the tomb,
We, too, revived shall rise,
And flourish in immortal bloom,
In Edens of the skies.

2 What though in pensive autumn’s wane,
Earth’s sere grown glories fall,
And sleep through winter’s dull domain,
When death is writ on all;
Exulting, in the breaking year,
The lily doth unclose,
And daisies o’er the waste appear,
And roses from the snows.

3 So then to dust, our dust shall turn,
So too shall rise and sing,
When falls upon the mouldered urn
The joyous dew of spring;
The God that rears the tender flowers,
And breathes to life their dust,
From coldest grave will quicken ours,
And new-create the just.