My job is in the open air
And, Lord, I love the work I do
For flowers are my joy of life
Though their beauty belongs to you.
Your flowers are so lovely;
Yet, I'm ugly, wrinkled and old.
I've lived beyond my mortal span
As the days I have left unfold.
Your lilies are my pride of life
And many of them there be.
They're worth a fortune, people say,
Though money has little worth to me.
Their glory is my just reward
As their radiant heads they raise.
I dedicate them to you,Lord,
With all my love and praise.
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