Beauteous are the flow­ers of earth,
Flowers we bring with ho­ly mirth,
Bright and sweet and gay;
Will our Fa­ther deign to own
Gifts we lay be­fore His throne,
On this hap­py day?

Yes, He will; for all things bright
Are most pre­cious in His sight,
And He loves to see
Children come with flow­ers for Him
Whom the flam­ing se­ra­phim
Worship cease­less­ly.

Yes, He will; for child­ren’s love
Makes this world like Hea­ven above,
Where no ev­il reigns,
And where all unite to bring
Purest of­fer­ings, and sing
Love’s un­end­ing strains.

Yes, He will; for hearts that turn
To the sick and poor, and learn
How to make them glad,
Shine like bea­cons on the strand
Of the far-off, hap­py land,
To the lost and sad.

So our low­ly gifts to Thee,
Lord of earth and sky and sea,
Thou wilt kind­ly take;
Every lit­tle flow­er we bring,
Every sim­ple hymn we sing,
And not one for­sake.