He came to trace for us, until the day

The cruel crown was pressed upon the Brow

That smiles upon us from His glory now.

And so He won for us

Sweet, thornless, everlasting flowers thus.

He bids our desert way

Rejoice and blossom as the Rose to-day.

There is no hidden thorn

In His good gifts of grace. He would adorn

The lives that now are His alone,