142 
Floral Poetry. 
Who forms thee thus, with unseen hand? 
Who at creation gave command, 
And willed thee thus to be ; 
And keeps thee still in being, through 
Age after age revolving ? Who 
But the great God is He ? 
Omnipotent, to work His will; 
Wise, who contrives each part to fill 
The post to each assigned; 
Still provident, with sleepless care, 
To keep ; to make thee sweet and fair, 
For man’s enjoyment—kind ! 
“ There is no God,” the senseless say : — 
“ O God ! why cast’st thou us away ?” 
Of feeble faith and frail, 
The mourner breathes his anxious thought ; 
By thee a better lesson taught, 
Sweet Lily of the Vale ! 
Yes, He who made and fosters thee, 
In reason’s eye perforce must be 
Of majesty divine ; 
Nor deems she that His guardian care 
Will He in man’s support forbear, 
Who thus provides for thine. 
Bishop Mant. 
