— — 0 Father, Loril t 
The all-benificent ! I bless Thy name. 
That Thou hast mantled the green earth with flowers, 
Linking our hearts to nature ! By the love 
Of their wild blossoms, our young footsteps first 
Into her deep recesses are beguiled, 
Her minster cells ; dark glen and forest bower, 
Where, thrilling with its earliest sense of Thee, 
Amidst the low religious whisperings 
And shivery leaf-sounds of the solitude. 
The spirit wakes to worship, and is made 
Thy living temple. By the breath of flowers, 
Thou callest us, from city throngs and cares. 
Back to the woods, the birds, the mountain streams, 
That sing of Thee ! back to free childhood’s heart. 
Fresh with the dews of tenderness ! Thou bidd’st 
The lilies of the field with placid smile 
Reprove man’s feverish strivings, and infuse 
Through his worn soul a more unworldly life, 
With their soft holy breath. Thou hast not left 
His purer nature, with its fine desires, 
Uucared for in this universe of Thine! 
The glowiug rose attests it, the beloved 
Of poet hearts, touch’d by their fervent dreams 
With spiritual light, and made a source 
Of heaven-ascending thoughts. E’en to faint age 
Thou lend’st the vernal bliss : — the old man’s eye 
Falls on the kindling blossoms, and his soul 
Remembers youth and love, and hopefully 
Turns unto Thee, who call’st earth’s buried germs 
From dust to splendour ; as the mortal seed 
Shall, at Thy summons, from the grave spring up 
To put on glory to be girt with power. 
And fill’d with immortality. Receive 
Thanks, blessings, love, for these Thy lavish boons. 
And, most of all, their heavenward influences, 
0 Thou that gavest us flowers ! 
Mbs. IIemans, 
