16 WILD FLOWERS. 
From dust to splendor; as the mortal seed 
Shall, at Thy summons, from the grave spring up 
To put on glory,—to he girt with power, 
And filled with immortality^? Receive 
Thanks, blessing, love, for these, thy lavish boons, 
And, most of all, their heavenward influences,— 
O Thou that gav’st us flowers! 
Flowers sent me during Illness. 
I loved you ever, gentle Flowers, 
And made you playmates of my youth; 
The while your spirit stole 
In secret to my soul, 
To shed a softness through my ripening powers, 
And lead the thoughtful mind to deepest truth. 
And now, when weariness and pain 
Had cast you almost from my breast, 
With each a smiling face, 
In all your simple grace, 
You come once more to take me back again, 
From pain to ease, from weariness to rest. 
