MARIGOLD. 
307 
And how she veils her flowers when he is gone, 
As if she scorned to be looked upon 
By an inferior eye; or did contemn 
To wait upon a meaner light than him : 
When this I meditate, methinks the flowers 
Have spirits far more generous than ours, 
And give us fair examples to despise 
The servile fawnings and idolatries 
Wherewith we court these earthly things below, 
Which merit not the service we bestow. 
But Oh, my God! though grovelling I appear 
Upon the ground, and have a rooting here 
Which hales me downward, yet in my desire 
To that which is above me I aspire, 
And all my best affections I profess 
To him that is the Sun of Righteousness. 
Oh ! keep the morning of his incarnation, 
The burning noon-tide of his bitter passion, 
The night of his descending, and the height 
Of his ascension,—ever in my sight, 
That imitating Him in what I may, 
I never follow an inferior way. 
