'S a feädèn flow'r, but time's a brook
To run an' not gi'e out, John.
An' yet, while things do come an' goo,
God's love is steadvast, John, an' true;
If winter vrost do chill the ground,
'Tis but to bring the zummer round,
All's well a-lost where He's a-vound,
Vor if 'tis right, vor Christes seäke
He'll gi'e us mwore than he do teäke,—
His goodness don't gi'e out, John.