“Tall, slender lilies (for my Saviour loved them,
And tender words about their beauty spake),
And golden buttercups, and glad-eyed daisies,
But just awake:
“‘Grass of the field’ in waving, feath’ry beauty,
He clothed it with that grace, so fair but brief,
Mosses all soft and green, and crimson berry,
With glossy leaf.
“While yet the dew is sparkling on the blossoms,
I’ll gather them and lay them at His feet,