The smallest flower 

 That twinkles through the meadow-grass, can serve 

 For subject of a lesson ; aye, as well 

 As the most gorgeous growth of Indian climes ; 

 For love of nature dwells not in the heart 

 Which seeks for things beyond our daily ken 

 To bid it glow. It is in common life, 

 In objects most familiar, we find 

 Exhaustless matter for our privilege, 

 Our glorious privilege of reading God 

 Amid his bright creation. 



L. A. Twamlev. 



