THE LILY OF THE VALLEY,
By H. N. E.
I THANK my God, I feel that not alone
On mountain peaks His blessed sunshine glows,
And dews drop sweetness; even here, far down
In meads, a lily grows. I am His work who made the evening star;
Wherefore I lift to him my flow'rets bright.
They die to-morrow, but to-day they are
Beautiful in his sight. I look upon the hills, and sometimes dream
How they rejoice in morning's earliest light;
And how serene, and strong, and still they seem
To guard the valleys all the gloomy night. 'Tis said the heights are cold—it may be so;
That winds are keener there, and winters drear.
I know not how it is: I only know
My God has placed me here— Here in this little nook of earth—my own—
And sent a sunbeam—mine—to cheer my heart;
He bids me bloom—perhaps for Him alone;
Is there a better part? I bloom—stars shine—we bloom and shine for Him;
We give our best—grand world and humble flower—
A light through ages never growing dim—
The fragrance of an hour. So then He smiles, and takes with equal love
Our equal gifts, nor knows or great or small;
But in his infiniteness reigns above,
And comprehends us all.
—H. N. E. in Independent.