FLOWERS. 
Oh ! they looked upward in every place 
Through this beautiful world of ours, 
And dear as a smile on an old friend’s face 
Is the smile of the bright, bright, flowers ! 
They tell us of wanderings by woods and streams; 
They tell us of lanes and trees ; 
But the children of showers and sunny beams 
Have lovelier tales than these — 
The bright, bright flowers! 
They tell of a season when men were not, 
When earth was by angels trod, 
And leaves and flowers in every spot 
Burst forth at the call of God; 
When spirits, singing their hymns at even, 
Wandered by wood and glade, 
And the Lord looked down from the highest heaven, 
And blessed what he had made — 
The bright, bright flowers! 
That blessing remaineth upon them still, 
Though often the storm-cloud lowers, 
And frequent tempests may soil and chill 
The gayest of earth’s flowers. 
When Sin and Death, with (heir sister Grief, 
Made a home in the hearts of men, 
The blessing of God on each tender leaf 
Preserved in their beauty then — 
The bright, bright flowers! 
The lily is lovely as when it slept 
On the waters of Eden’s lake; 
The woodbine breathes sweetly as when it crept 
In Eden from brake to brake. 
They were left as the proof of the loveliness 
Of Adam and Eve’s first home : 
They are here as a type of the joys that bless 
The just in the world to come—• 
The bright, bright flowers! 
