E lilies of the field, ye fairest flowers Of all which bloomed of old in Eden's bowers, And since thence exiled have this world arrayed With beauties time hath varied, ne'er decayed; To ye the pensive heart still turns again, And seeks for wisdom never sought in vain. For though we view with ever fresh delight The rose's blushing hue or tinted white, Each cultured gem of Flora's wide domains; Or, wandering far, behold, where Nature reigns, Those wilder sweets which o'er creation wave, And deck alike man's cradle and his grave;— Yet still on thee, thou fair and graceful flower, There seems to rest a deeper, holier power,— A charm which long survives thy transient bloom, And sheds its lustre o'er thine early tomb: For who, fair queen, can view thy peerless form Glance in the sunshine, bend beneath the storm, Or turn on high those purple streaks which glow Upon thy bosom else of purest snow,— Nor think of Him, the incarnate Son of God, Who, while on earth His pilgrim footsteps trod, (Chose thee from all earth's glorious things and fair, For man a lesson fraught with love to bear, And bade the faithless sons of Adam see A Father's changeless love portrayed in thee?
Oh! on thy form what human eye can gaze, Nor turn from thee to long-departed days, To Judah's once-loved land, so trebly blest, Where throned on earth the Almighty seemed to rest, Where all was peace and joy? How changed now! The brand of wrath imprinted on her brow,— Her altars reft,—her glory passed away,— Yet lovely still 'mid ruin and decay.
But oh! sweet land, thine own majestic flower Calls not to mind alone thy days of power, When, 'mid the Temple's gorgeous treasures found, In imaged wreaths the lily twined around; But when her form of beauty towers on high, Long years depart; and bright on Fancy's eve Far scenes revive:—beneath thy cloudless skies She sees in thought the mountain's brow arise,— The listening group who silent stand around One Godlike Form, and long to catch each sound Which falls from lips whose glowing accents seem To pierce the souls which hear with heavenly beau. And o'er each melting heart in mercy pour Such words of love as earth ne'er heard before, Hark! how He bids all Nature wisdom yield,— "Behold," saith He, "the lilies of the field; No life of anxious thought or pride is theirs, They toil not, spin not, feel no earth-born cares. Yet David's son, in all his pomp of power, Was not arrayed like yonder simple flower; And oh! if God so clothes the flowers which bloom In youth to-day—to-morrow find a tomb,— Shall He not much more all your sorrows share, Your wants supply,—for you all good prepare, Ye faithless hearts, who cannot trust His care?"
Such was the lesson, fraught with holy power, Breathed forth on thee!—and since that long past hour, Such are the words which o'er thy snowy leaves In threads of light the hand of Fancy weaves. Oh! that each heart which marks thy form so fair, Could rise in faith to Him who placed thee there; And learn from thee, though all be dark and drear, To trust His changeless love and ceaseless care.
E lilies of the field, ye fairest flowers
E lilies of the field, ye fairest flowers