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Consider ye, the “Lilies of the field” 
Which neitlier toil nor spin,— not regai pride, 
In ail its plénitude of pomp revealed, 
Could hope to charm their beauties placed beside. 
If heavenly goodness thus for them provide, 
Which bloom to day, and wither on the morrow; 
Shall not your wants be from your God suplied, 
Without your vain anxiety and sorrow ? 
O ! ye of little faith, from these a lesson borrow! 
Barton. 
Now although our “Lilies of the Vale” may not in 
reason be supposed to be the “ Lilies of the field ” with 
which our Saviour illustrated his doctrine, they hâve 
been not unfrequently cliosen by poets, when they 
would adom their verses with the Scriptural lesson to 
which I hâve alluded. 
But not the less, sweet Spring-tide’s flower, 
Dost thou display thy Maker’s power, 
His skill and handy-work ; 
Our western vallies’ humbler child ; 
Where, in green nook of woodland wild, 
Thy modest blossoms lurk. 
What though nor care nor art be thine, 
The loom to ply, the thread to twine; 
Yet born to bloom and fade, 
Thee, too, a lovelier robe arrays, 
Than e’er in Israel’s brightest days 
Her wealthiest king arrayed. 
Bishop Mant, 
