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Updated: May 19, 2025
He finally thought no more of the rest, listened to nothing but the divine eloquence of their lean slenderness, regarding them only under the semblance of tall flower-stems deep in carved stone tubes and expanding into faces of ingenuous fragrance, of innocent perfume, while Christ, touched and saddened, blessing the world, seemed to bend from His throne above them to inhale the delicate aroma that rose from these up-soaring chalices full of soul.
I my grateful voice would blend, With nature's loud thanksgiving; Praises through the earth would send For the bliss of living. Then, God, look on me, From Thy throne eternal, Make pure unto Thee, This my hymn diurnal. On the wings of morning, With songs of birds up-soaring, I address Thee, Praise and bless Thee, Joying and adoring.
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