Plants a hope.
Rootlets up through fibers blindly grope,
Leaves unfold unto horizons free.
So man's life must climb
From the clods of time
Unto heavens sublime.
Canst thou prophesy, thou little tree,
What the glory of the boughs shall be?
Almighty God, thy power is so great I cannot express it; help me to comprehend the meaning of it, that I may feel more profoundly thy expectations of my life. May I remember that to forget that life is eternal may make me to lose all it has grown. Amen.