The Three Graces


Bloom brightly, little bud;

All humble as thou art,

God sendeth the still dew

To nestle in thy heart;

And all he sends is best for thee,

Even though it be adversity.


Soar calmly, my sweet bird;

Ne'er flutter, faint, nor fail,

Though many a mocking word

Turn upward flight assail;

Ere long the starry heavens shall open,

And crown with joy my patient Hope.


Plow gently, little stream,

Beneath a burning sky;

Spread gladness like a gleam

Of mercy from God's eye.

Though parched the earth, 

One touch from thee

May quench that thirst, 0 Charity.