100 EVENING PRIMROSE. 



the sun withdraws his rays, watches over 

 even the minutest concerns of life. 



Oh ! the spirit of Christ is grieved, 

 When man doth take no heed 



Of the wild, yet wondrous things, 



Which he giveth for an hour of need. 



Let the lone and weary wanderer, 



Who hath no dwelling nigh. 

 Graze on this nightly flower, 



While the stars keep watch on high. 



Mark well each brimming fountain. 



The light in each fairy hall ; 

 The joyous things that hasten 



To the banquet spread out for all. 



Let him ask, if indeed it can be, 



That the Power whom none may scan, 



Careth more for these feeble beings. 

 Than his trusting creature, Man ? 



