Beautiful Butterflies. 53 



Not to induce me to repine, 



Or envy thee thy happiness ; 

 But from a lot so bright as thine 



To borrow musings born to bless. 



For unto him whose spirit reads 



Creation with a Christian eye, 

 Each happy living creature pleads 



The cause of Him who reigns on high ; 

 Who spann'd the earth, and arch'd the sky, 



Gave life to everything that lives, 

 And still delighteth to supply 



With happiness the life He gives. 



This truth may boast but little worth, 



Enforc'd by rhet'ric's frigid powers : 

 But when it has, its quiet birth 



In contemplation's silent hours ; 

 When summer's brightly peopled bowers 



Bring home its teachings to the heart ; 

 When birds and insects, shrubs and flowers, 



Its touching eloquence impart. 



Though many a flower that sweetly deck'd 



Life's early path, but bloom'd to fade : 

 Though sorrow, poverty, neglect — 



Now seem to wrap their souls in shade ; 

 Let those look upward, undismay'd, 



Turn thorny paths in anguish trod, 

 To regions where in light array 'd, 



Still dwells their Saviour and their God. 



