O Thou faithful bearer of the rusty shields,
Holy Service Tree!
Thy fragrant blessings on my heart's praying fields...
Thanksgiving to thee.

O humble crown, green vigil of delight,
Guard proud of God,
Thy blessings-shields borne high by the flaming Knight,
High where no fighter has trod,

Are crushed into pollen of throbbing gold,
O vault of luminous shade,
Look! Bunches of blossoming lights behold!
And the shadows of old fade...

Rustling mystery-tale! Love with covered face
Bent over the New-born!
One day under the shield of diamond grace
Thy emerald visor will be torn.