THE USE OF FLOWERS.

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THE USE OF FLOWERS.

MARY HOWITT.

GOD might have made the earth bring forth Enough for great and small,

The oak-tree and the cedar-tree,

Without a flower at all.

We might have had enough, enough

For every want of ours,

For luxury, medicine, and toil,

And yet have had no flowers.

The ore within the mountain mine

Requireth none to grow;

Nor doth it need the lotus-flower

To make the river flow.

The clouds might give abundant rain,
The nightly dews might fall,

And the herb that keepeth life in man,
Might yet have drunk them all.

Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, All dyed with rainbow light,

All fashioned with supremest grace

Upspringing day and night,

Springing in valleys green and low,

And on the mountains high,
And in the silent wilderness
Where no man passes by?

Our outward life requires them not;
Then wherefore had they birth? -
To minister delight to man,

To beautify the earth.

To comfort man, to whisper hope
Whene'er his faith is dim

For who so careth for the flowers
Will much more care for him!

THE WOODLAND SANCTUARY

F. D. HUNTINGTON.

O THOU, that once on Horeb stood
Revealed within the burning tree,
To-day, as well, in each green wood,

Be seen by hearts that yearn for thee.
Each shining leaf is bright with God,
Each bough a prophet's "budding rod,”
Each by thy flaming sun illumed,
Yet each, like Horeb's, unconsumed.

SCENE AFTER A SUMMER SHOWER.

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O Thou, whose hand poured Jordan's stream,

Whose angel-dove hung o'er its wave,
To hallow with a heavenly gleam

The Son whose love a world would save!
Bring from the waters at our side
Some whisper, gentle as their tide,
Saying, like Christ on Galilee,—

That holier lake, - Peace, peace to thee!

We pray, O Lord, who touched the mount,
We pray through Him who stilled the sea,-
May every outward sight a fount

Of inward life and courage be.
The radiant bush, the white-winged dove,
The fire of faith, the peace of love,
Uplift our souls, and urge them on
To take the cross, to wear the crown.

SCENE AFTER A SUMMER SHOWER.

ANDREWS NORTON.

THE rain is o'er. How dense and bright
Yon pearly clouds reposing lie,
Cloud above cloud, a glorious sight,
Contrasting with the dark blue sky!

In grateful silence, earth receives

The general blessing; fresh and fair, Each flower expands its little leaves,

As glad the common joy to share.

The softened sunbeams pour around
A fairy light, uncertain, pale;

The wind flows cool; the scented ground
Is breathing odors on the gale.

'Mid yon rich cloud's voluptuous pile, Methinks some spirit of the air Might rest, to gaze below awhile,

Then turn to bathe and revel there.

The sun breaks forth; from off the scene
Its floating veil of mist is flung;

And all the wilderness of green

With trembling drops of light is hung.

Now gaze on Nature, yet the same,
Glowing with life, by breezes fanned,
Luxuriant, lovely, as she came,

Fresh in her youth, from God's own hand.

Hear the rich music of that voice

Which sounds from all below, above

She calls her children to rejoice,

And round them throws her arms of love.

THE PASTOR'S PRAYER AT SUNSET.

Drink in her influence; low-born care,
And all the train of mean desire,
Refuse to breathe this holy air,
And 'mid this living light expire.

THE PASTOR'S PRAYER AT SUNSET.

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FROM THE EXCURSION." WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

"ETERNAL Spirit! universal God!

Power inaccessible to human thought,

Save by degrees and steps which Thou hast deigned

To furnish; for this effluence of thyself,
To the infirmity of mortal sense

Vouchsafed, this local transitory type

Of thy paternal splendors, and the pomp
Of those who fill thy courts in highest heaven,
The radiant Cherubim, - accept the thanks
Which we, thy humble creatures, here con-
vened,

Presume to offer; we, who, from the breast
Of the frail earth permitted to behold
The faint reflections only of thy face,
Are yet exalted, and in soul adore!

Such as they are who in thy presence stand