Wake up quite early every morning and listen. Be patient, and one morning, just as the first pink glow of the rising sun tinges the east, you will hear a watching tree call out,— |
The year’s at the spring,
And the day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hillside’s dew pearled;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in his heaven—
All’s right with the world.
And then all the lily-bells will chime out the call to prayer, the great red sun will come up and lead, and the little Chautauqua will open.
You will hear the sweet notes of praise from the bird choir, and prayers will rise from the flowers like sweet incense; you will see and hear it all, but will you remember that it is all to show forth the glory of God?