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 sunflower ever turning
To the mighty sun,
With faithfulness of fealty
Following only One-
So make me, Lord, to Thee.