Buttercups and daisies growing everywhere,
In the field of clover, on the hillside fair,
And in lovely valley, tilled with greatest care.
Naught but weeds and rubbish, in the farmer's eyes,
Drawing off the nurture from the grain they prize,
And their great luxuriance sore their patience tries.
But the dews of heaven give them richest bloom,
And their smiling beauty drives away our gloom;
For such little beauties surely there is room.
In this world of sorrow flowers ne'er bloom in vain,
Though they in their blooming sap the golden grain,
And drink in the moisture of the latter rain;
For our Heavenly Father deemed it wise and good
To diffuse this beauty with the grain for food.
And this wise arrangement He has never rued.
Teaching us this lesson we are slow to learn;
Man lives not for eating, nor for duties stern,
But to serve God's pleasure, then to Him return.
Room for joy is given and for purest bliss,
And we may all find them in a world like this,
If our aims are sordid all this gold we miss;
But if we are faithful and to God inclined,
Seeing Him in nature, and of heavenly mind,
Aiming to be like Him, and by grace refined,
We shall live forever where there is no gloom;
Though the path to glory leadeth through the tomb;
But a moment's darkness--flowers that ever bloom.