The Flowers.
When we walk in the fields, how many flowers we see; some spring from the grass, where they look like little stars; some twine in the hedge; some grow on each bank; and some hang from trees and plants.
How we love to look at them—red and blue, and yellow and white. Some are round, like cups; some stand up, with sun-like rays; some hang down their heads; but all their forms seem to please the eye.
And then, while they look so bright and fair, how sweet they smell. The air is full of their sweets; and bees sing songs round them, and sip honey from their rosy lips.
They come in the first soft winds of spring, and shed their pure bloom on the white bosom of the snow; they seem to look at the sun with joy, and watch him through the day. At night, when the sun is gone to rest, they seem sad, hang their heads, and droop.
But at morn, they open their leaves, and the clear dew seems, like a tear of joy in their eyes, to hail the sun that lights them.
Why did God make the flowers so fair and pure, and bright, and paint them with so many hues? Because it was his wish that they should make glad our eyes.
He might have made them dull, dark, ugly things, so that when we looked upon them they would have given us pain, and not joy; but God wished to make us happy.
As the sun shines upon flowers, so God smiles on us when we do what is right: when we, like him, try to shed light, and joy, and peace, about us.
As flowers turn toward the sun all day, and seem to follow him in his course, so should we let our hearts turn to the God who made us; for he is our bright Sun, and without him we should fade and die.
