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Verse 1

Here, Lord, we offer Thee all that is fairest,
Bloom from the garden, and flowers from the field;
Gifts for the stricken ones, knowing Thou carest
More for the love than the wealth that we yield.

Verse 2

Send, Lord, by these to the sick and the dying,
Speak to their hearts with a message of peace;
Comfort the sad, who in weakness are lying,
Grant the departing a gentle release.

Verse 3

Raise, Lord, to health again those who have sickened,
Fair be their lives as the roses in bloom;
Give of Thy grace to the souls Thou hast quickened,
Gladness for sorrow, and brightness for gloom.

Verse 4

We, Lord, like flowers, must bloom and must wither;
We, like these blossoms, must fade and must die;
Gather us, Lord, to Thy bosom for ever,
Grant us a place in Thy house in the sky.

Verse 1

Great Giver of all good,
To Thee our thanks we yield
For all the beauties of the wood,
Of hill, and dale, and field.

Verse 2

Ten thousand various flowers
To Thee sweet offerings bear,
And joyous birds in woodland bowers
Sing forth Thy tender care.

Verse 3

The fields on every side,
The trees on every hill,
The glorious sun, the rolling tide,
Proclaim Thy wonders still.

Verse 4

But trees, and fields, and skies
Still praise a God unknown;
For gratitude and love can rise
From living hearts alone.

Verse 5

These living hearts of ours
Thy holy Name would bless;
The blossoms of the thousand flowers
Would please the Saviour less.

Verse 6

While earth itself decays,
Our souls can never die;
O tune them all to sing Thy praise
In better songs on high.