The white dove cooeth in her downy nest, Keeping her young ones warm beneath her breast: The white moon saileth through the cool clear sky, Screened by a tender mist in passing by: The white rose buds, with thorns upon its stem, All the more precious and more dear for them: The stream shines silver in the tufted grass, The white clouds scarcely dim it as they pass; Deep in the valleys lily cups are white, They send up incense all the holy night. Our souls are white, made clean in Blood once shed: White blessed Angels watch around our bed: - O spotless Lamb of God, still keep us so, Thou wert born for us in time of snow. |