Cant. ii.2

As the lily of the valley,

White and pure and sweet,

As the lowly violet trodden

Under wandering feet;

As the rose amidst the briars

Fresh and fair is found,

Heedless of the tangled thicket,

And the thorns around --

As the sun-flower ever turning

To the mighty sun,

With the faithfulness of fealty

Following only one --

So make me, Lord, to Thee.