Through rose-strewn paths the sweet procession
Moves slowly up the aisle;
Each face aglow in Faith's profession —
As angel choirs might file.

The white-robed maids with snowy wreaths,
Crowning their flowing tresses,
The altar-boys whose bearing breathes
A reverence love professes.

The happy parents kneeling there,
Now watch with tear-dimmed eyes,
God's " little ones " approach, in prayer,
A Feast His love supplies.