THE NOBLEST ARE THE LOWLIEST.
By Fannie Bolton
WHAT'S the delight of the noblest?
The things most simple and innocent;
The flower that lifts up its face of rest,
And discloses the love of God's sweet intent.
The greatest have knelt low to learn from a flower
A lesson that kept life more calm for an hour. Oh! over the sordid, and into the fine,
The tint of the sunset may set us free.
The brow, grown weary, becomes divine,
As we rise for a glimpse of the thing to be;
And hears not the spirit most masterful words,
Caught up to the stars in majestical chords? What most touches the noblest?
Some simple tale of a commonplace life,
Whose hidden pathos, perhaps unguessed,
Reveals the secret of inmost strife;
And swifter than light, and softer than dew,
The heart is inspired to be more true. What most appeals to the noblest?
The tender words of the Holy Book,
"Come unto me, I will give you rest;"
The prayer heart-broken, the pitying look;
The touch of a child's soft little hand,
Has fallen like balm from the better land. I think of the lowly things to-day,
And I bless the Lord for their mighty power,—
The sunshine falling so over the way,
And the delicate face of the little flower;
And the children dear, and the soul of worth,
God's lowly things that have blessed the earth. The noblest souls are the lowliest,
Like Him who was meek and lowly of heart.
I read his image in all the best,
In Heaven and earth, in valley and mart;
For all things fair speak his royal sway,
And tell of his sovereign majesty. Oh! lowliest One. Oh! noblest,
Lily of meekness. Pearl of all pearls;
For the rose of love is within thy breast;
Chief of ten thousand throughout all worlds,
Make me, oh, make me partaker of
That nature whose innermost name is "love." Draw my soul to behold thy grace;
Let me learn of thee how the heart may rest.
Trace thou thine image on soul and face,
Trace thou thine image on brow and breast.
Whatever the cost, shall I not be blest,
If but granted a place with thy lowliest?