But tell me now, who made these flow’rs,
Who moulded them so fair;
Who taught them, with such rich perfume,
To scent the morning air.
Who fill’d their cups with drops of dew,
When parch’d with summer’s rays;
Who tinged their leaves with brightest hue,
On which we wondering gaze.
Can man such splendid dyes produce?
Can he such colours blend?
Can he the tendril graceful twine,
Or the soft branches bend?
Oh no! ’tis God, who reigns on high,
Who form’d the earth and heaven;
Who framed each star that lights the sky.
He hath to mortals given
All these, and more! And should not we,
Frail children of mortality,
With thankful hearts, each day, each night,
Think of his goodness infinite?
And pray, that gratitude may still
Our stubborn hearts with rapture fill?
O teach us humbly to adore
Thee first, Thee last, Thee evermore!

THE END.

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Gracechurch-street, London.