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(Spelling and capitalization have been modernized) 

My Blessed Lord, art thou a lily flower?

          Oh! That my soul thy garden were, that so

Thy bowing head root in my heart, and pour

          Might of its seeds, that they therein might grow.

          Be thou my lily, make thou me thy knot:

          Be thou my flowers, I’ll be thy flower pot.


My barren heart thy fruitful valley make:

          Be thou my lily flourishing in me:

Oh lily of the valleys. For thy sake,

          Let me thy valley, thou my lily be.

          Then nothing shall me of thyself bereave.

          Thou must not me, or must thy valley leave.


How shall my valley’s spangling glory spred,  

          Thou lily of the valleys spangling

There springing up? Upon thy bowing head

          All heaven’s bright glory hangeth dangling.

          My valley then with blissful beams shall shine,

          Thou lily of the valleys, being mine.