Little flowers of martyrdom

Verse 1

Little flow'rs of martyrdom, Whom the ruthless sword hath torn On the threshold of the morn, Rosebuds by the whirlwind shorn!

Verse 2

All regardless of their doom, Now in paradise they lay; Jesus’ tend’rest victims, they With their crowns in Heaven play.

Verse 3

Tyrant! What avails their tomb? He shall ’scape the bloody blade, Which hath many childless made, Infant born of mother-maid.

Verse 4

Thus the type of Him to come: Savior of lost Jacob’s clan, Moses fled the tyrant’s band, Guarded by an angel’s hand.

Verse 5

Jesu, born of virgin’s womb, Father, Spirit, One and Three, Sing we glory unto thee, Sing we everlastingly.