“Child! what God created,
Has a glorious aim;
Thine it is to worship,—
Thine to love His name.”
THE FLOWERS.
God might have made the earth bring forth
Enough for great and small,
The oak tree and the cedar tree,
Without a flower at all.
He might have made enough,—enough
For every want of ours,—
For luxury, medicine, and food,
And yet have made no flowers.
Then wherefore, wherefore were they made,
And dyed with rainbow light,
All fashioned with supremest grace,
Upspringing day and night.
In fertile valleys, green and low,
And on the mountains high,
And in the silent wilderness,
Where no one passes by.
Our outward life requires them not,—
Then wherefore had they birth?
To minister delight to man,
And beautify the earth.
To comfort man,—to whisper hope,
Whene’er his faith is dim;
For He, who careth for the flowers,
Will surely care for him.
LITTLE BY LITTLE.
One step, and then another,
And the longest walk is ended;
One stitch and then another,
And the largest rent is mended
One brick upon another,
And the highest wall is made;
One flake upon another,
And the deepest snow is laid.