The sum­mer flow’rs are fair and bright,
Bathing them­selves in sun­ny light,
Drinking the dew, drink­ing the dew;
But love­li­er far are those flow’rs that grow,
In the good man’s life as he walks be­low;
He basks in the light of heav’n­ly glow,
With a heart all pure and whit­er than snow,
A Chris­tian true, a Chris­tian true.

Those pre­cious gems of spark­ling hue,
Which deck the brow of mon­archs true,
Flashing their light, flash­ing their light;
Eclipsed are these all by those gems of grace,
Which you e’er in the good man’s life may trace,
As he walks by faith, with his hopes ablaze,
In the cloud­less light of his Fa­ther’s face,
In sweet de­light, in sweet de­light.