The root is fixed in the foulest mud;
And from it grows this pure lily bud;
While speckled frogs, and the slimy eels,
Around its roots find their daily meals.
As lilies fair from the foul mud grow,
So oft it is with good men below;
In daily life they absorb the pure,
And the adverse elements endure;
And rise, through grace, to a higher sphere,
Their hearts in heaven, and their root down here.