THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. 45 
He showed to our mistrustful kind, 
An emblem to the thoughtful mind 
Of God’s paternal care 1 
Eut not the less, sweet springtide’s flower. 
Dost thou display the Maker’s power, 
His skill and handiwork, 
Our western valley’s 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. 
Of thy twin leaves th’ embowered screen 
Which wraps thee in thy shroud of green; 
Thy Eden-breathing smell; 
Thy arched and purple-vested stem, 
Whence pendant many a pearly gem, 
Displays a milk-white bell • 
Instinct with life thy fibrous root. 
Which sends from earth the ascending shoot. 
As rising from the dead. 
