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145
THE FLOWERS.
When God to man a being gave,
'T was with a garden fair;
His first-drawn breath was from a wave
Of odor-wafting air.
When vision, at his spirit's birth,
The tender eyelids burst,
He saw, from out his kindred earth,
The flowers had risen first!
'T was with a garden fair;
His first-drawn breath was from a wave
Of odor-wafting air.
When vision, at his spirit's birth,
The tender eyelids burst,
He saw, from out his kindred earth,
The flowers had risen first!
'Mid clustering vines, and trees, that wooed
His new-created sight,
Were fruits for rich, salubrious food,—
The flowers for his delight.
And these were fed from living springs,—
Baptized with holy dew,—
And softly fanned by angels' wings,
In beauty while they grew.
His new-created sight,
Were fruits for rich, salubrious food,—
The flowers for his delight.
And these were fed from living springs,—
Baptized with holy dew,—
And softly fanned by angels' wings,
In beauty while they grew.
They shone, a glorious volume, spread
For his all-peaceful hours:—
The first sweet book man ever read
Was of the leaves of flowers!
Pure thoughts of his Almighty Friend,
With radiance from above,
Were on its countless pages penned,—
Its Author's name was Love!
For his all-peaceful hours:—
The first sweet book man ever read
Was of the leaves of flowers!
Pure thoughts of his Almighty Friend,
With radiance from above,
Were on its countless pages penned,—
Its Author's name was Love!
146
When Adam was condemned to leave
His blissful native bowers,
To soothe him and the sorrowing Eve,
God spared them still the flowers.
For, quickly as an angel speeds,
Before him had there flown,
From Eden, myriad swift-winged seeds,—
All earth with flowers was strown!
His blissful native bowers,
To soothe him and the sorrowing Eve,
God spared them still the flowers.
For, quickly as an angel speeds,
Before him had there flown,
From Eden, myriad swift-winged seeds,—
All earth with flowers was strown!
Their smiles along the exile's way,
And spicy breath, they gave:
When cold in death and dust he lay,
They gathered o'er his grave.
If sometimes there they drop their bloom,
From living germs they rise,
As Hope springs heavenward from the tomb,
Unfolding to the skies.
And spicy breath, they gave:
When cold in death and dust he lay,
They gathered o'er his grave.
If sometimes there they drop their bloom,
From living germs they rise,
As Hope springs heavenward from the tomb,
Unfolding to the skies.
When Christ to earth in meekness came,
With soul-redeeming power,
He chose a home that bore the name
Which signifies a Flower.
The lily-bells, that beauteous hung
Where passed his infant days,
Had each a pure and truthful tongue
To give their Maker praise.
With soul-redeeming power,
He chose a home that bore the name
Which signifies a Flower.
The lily-bells, that beauteous hung
Where passed his infant days,
Had each a pure and truthful tongue
To give their Maker praise.
And earthward as they lowly bowed,
Like vials, o'er the sod,
They poured sweet odors, as a cloud,
That, mounting, rose to God:
The while, on countless airy stems,
As censers, many a cup,
Like gold, and pearl, and bright-hued gems,
Fresh incense offered up.
Like vials, o'er the sod,
They poured sweet odors, as a cloud,
That, mounting, rose to God:
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As censers, many a cup,
Like gold, and pearl, and bright-hued gems,
Fresh incense offered up.
When by his lips the precepts taught
His Father's will revealed,
He chose, to image forth his thought,—
“The lilies of the field.”
And 't is his Church, that, like “the Rose
Of Sharon” sweet and fair,
Or “Lily of the valley,” grows
Alone beneath his care.
His Father's will revealed,
He chose, to image forth his thought,—
“The lilies of the field.”
And 't is his Church, that, like “the Rose
Of Sharon” sweet and fair,
Or “Lily of the valley,” grows
Alone beneath his care.
If thus our Saviour loved the flowers,
And thence pure symbols drew,
Must not a love like his be ours,
While we to him are true?
If they delighted man before
His eye had dropped a tear,
Shall we not worship God the more
That they surround us here?
And thence pure symbols drew,
Must not a love like his be ours,
While we to him are true?
If they delighted man before
His eye had dropped a tear,
Shall we not worship God the more
That they surround us here?
Made perfect by Almighty skill,
As when in Eden-bloom,
They brighten all our paths, and still
Our vital air perfume.
That Book of thousand beauteous dyes
Presents His love and power
Whose hand sustains earth, sea, and skies,
Recorded in the flower!
As when in Eden-bloom,
They brighten all our paths, and still
Our vital air perfume.
That Book of thousand beauteous dyes
Presents His love and power
Whose hand sustains earth, sea, and skies,
Recorded in the flower!
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