Roots which in their dusty bosoms
Hid an age of golden days,
Stirring, with a cloud of blossoms
Clothe their bareness for Thy praise.

Sometimes like a morning sun,
On the dazzled soul Thou breakest,
Heaven at once on earth begun!
Sometimes like a star appearing,
Seen and lost as earth-winds blow,
Wishing, hoping, thinking, fearing,
Thou hast saved us ere we know.

To the sinner in his sin;
Thou to spirits humbly seeking,
Answerest by a voice within;
Happier souls, like fruit-trees leading
Ordered branches o'er the wall,
Find in Thee the solace needing,
Shower or sunshine, Thou art all!