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Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Jun 2, 1914

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 41, No. 21.

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Spring
Spring

Spring

By Mabel Corinne Craker

By Mabel Corinne Craker
Why is Mother Earth so restless? She is stirring up her bed, And displays a patchwork quiltlet From beneath the snowy spread.
Why have brooklets ceased their crooning, Hushed their drowsy lullaby? 'Tis a lively air they're humming, Waking countless sleepers nigh.
Flow'rets peep from out their dwellings, Close, thatch-roofed, and water-proof; And the liverworts are raising Their quaint parasols, forsooth.
Those brave sentinels, the pine-trees, Wave their boughs with added grace, While above their sturdy rootlets Sheets of gold the eye can trace.
Clinging vines, round massive columns, Deck the cedar and the oak; And the feathered prima donnas Gaily sing to woodland folk.
Tell me, why is man so fearful Lest he give his Maker praise, While around him all seem grateful For the blessings of His grace?
O, extol the God of heaven! Let His name adorn thy song. He it is who gives the springtime. Praises unto Him belong.