So, my soul, like the ivy be,
Heaven, not earth, is the place for thee.
Wrapping itself round the giant oak,
Hiding itself from the tempest’s stroke;
Strong and brave is the fragile thing,
For it knows one secret, how to cling:
So, my soul, there’s strength for thee,
Hear the Mighty One, “Lean on me!”
Green are its leaves when the world is white,
For the ivy sings through the frosty night;