My Heart Is Like A

Flowers Preach To Us If We Will Hear.

We Must Not Look At Goblin Men, We Must Not Buy Their Fruits: Who Knows Upon What Soil They Fed Their Hungry Thirsty Roots?

Christmas Hath A Darkness; Brighter Than The Blazing Noon; Christmas Hath A Chillness Warmer Than The Heat Of June, Christmas Hath A Beauty Lovelier Than The World Can Show: For Christmas Bringeth Jesus, Brought For Us So Low

As A Tree My Sin Stands To Darken All Lands; Death Is The Fruit It Bore.

The Bourne Underneath The Growing Grass, Underneath The Living Flowers, Deeper Than The Sound Of Showers: There We Shall Not Count The Hours By The Shadows As They Pass. Youth And Health Will Be But Vain, Beauty Reckoned Of No Worth: There A Very Little Girth Can Hold Round What Once The Earth Seemed Too Narrow To Contain.