Wreaths for the warrior brave!
He conquered in the fight, Bright day chased sable night, Wave banners! proudly wave!

Laurels for statesman bold!
Men wake from callous sleep, As tones, in pathos deep, A people's wrongs unfold.

Sweet flowers with poesy chime;—
Gay-deck those poet lays Which incense care-worn ways, Raise souls to heights sublime.

Rare flowers of spotless hue
For heralds of the cross, Who fear nor shame nor loss, But type the Christ-life true.

Richest of nature's gems
Within His courts we bring; Ours, and all nature's King; King of heaven's diadems.

Chaplets for brow of toil!
Rough hands, but heart all rich, Who fitly fills his niche On God's life-giving soil.

Flowers for the suffering throng!
Oh meek! long-during band! High in the painless land Sad plaint will rise to song.

White-wreathe we infant tombs!
Where breathes no chilling blast, Where skies ne'er over cast, Hope's full fruition blooms.

Be-crown the aged heads
With sprays of evergreen! Earth waneth, heaven serene Undying lustre sheds.

Bright-fringe, Oh fragrant flowers!
Life's ever-changeful day; Till shadow's flit for aye, In amaranthine bowers.