"There is beauty in flowers
When kissed by the showers
That fall in the bowers
Of gardens so fair,
When music is telling
In notes that are swelling,
And love is excelling,
Aloft in the air.
Birds now are singing,
Deep valleys are ringing,
And harmony bringing
Content to the mind.
Flowers are caressing,
And sending a blessing
To all now confessing
To be to them kind.
Minds soon are roving
To lands that are blooming
Afar from the glooming
Of woe and despair,
Saying, “Come to the bowers
Filled with rare flowers
Nature’s kind dowers,
Free as the air.”
Come, my love, and do not spurn
From a little flower to learn:
See the lily on the bed,
Hanging down its modest head;
While it scarcely can be seen,
Folded in its leaf of green.
Yet we love the lily well,
For its sweet and pleasant smell,
And would rather call it ours
Than many other gayer flowers;
Pretty lilies seem to be
Emblems of humility.
’Tis not beauty that we prize,
Like a summer flower it dies.
But humility will last,
Fair and sweet, when beauty’s past;
And the Saviour, from above,
Views a humble child with love.
From a little flower to learn:
Let your temper be as sweet
As the lily at your feet;
Be as gentle, be as mild:
Be a modest, simple child."
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