|
Consider The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief: We are as they; Like them we fade away, As doth a leaf. Consider The sparrows of the air of small account: Our God doth view Whether they fall or mount,— He guards us too. Consider The lilies that do neither spin nor toil, Yet are most fair: What profits all this care And all this toil? Consider The birds that have no barn nor harvest-weeks; God gives them food: Much more our Father seeks To do us good. |