QUAILS fill my mind with holy thoughts;
For when the chosen tribe
Were wandering in the wilderness
Jehovah was their guide.
When hungry, to the Lord they cried;
He sent them quails for food.
God will send us, in hour of need,
Whatever is for good.

ROSES are very fair to see,
And fragrant is their breath;
Their soft perfume doth scent the air
The sweetest after death.
O, let us die in holy peace;
And may our deeds of love
Bear witness of a holy life,
A pledge of rest above.

SWANS float upon the waters blue;
How beautiful the sight!
Their snowy plumage, graceful form,
And neck so arched and light!
Old poets say, the swan doth sing
One song with dying breath;
How sweet the thought—with holy song
To welcome coming death!