“Easter’s Promise,” Friend, Apr. 1974, 5
Now the snow begins to melt;
The earth is cold and brown.
I wonder where the flowers are—
There’s not a bloom around.
Do they sleep beneath the earth
And stretch impatiently
And wait until the sun comes out
To be alive and free?
And do you think that when we die,
We’ll slumber for a while
And then like flowers bloom again
With Heavenly Father’s smile?