THE SEVENTH DAY.
SENT WITH A CLUSTER OF MAIDEN-HAIR FERNS.
Doubtless you are much surprised
That we are not fossilized,
Geologic, or antique,—
Only little ferns and meek.
Yet we grew at His command,
Touched by that same loving Hand
Which the day from night divided,
Planets on their courses guided,
Set on high the firmament,
Alps from Alps asunder rent,
All the earth with life invested;
And He made us while He—“rested.”