5
SPRING FLOWERS.
It is not all a barren waste, This brown, this frost-bound earth;Spring calls with vivifying power All nature to new birth.
This is not all a cheerless life, Though many a dear hope dies;From weariness, and loss, and grief, Reviving joys arise.
God reigneth still, God loveth still, God for us still doth care;And, though He send the withering blast, Mercy is everywhere.
Death is not victor, though he take Our beautiful, our best;Our Father hath but bidden him Hush them awhile to rest.
There comes a resurrection day, That shall make all things plain,The mysteries of life and death, The meaning of all pain.
So say the flowers, as year by year, Their beauty is renewed,And gladder, stronger grow our hearts, With this great hope imbued.
First from their wintry prison-house The pure white snowdrops spring,And with them the frilled aconites Hold friendly communing.
