Poetry Archives

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 coil?

    Consider
The birds that have no barn nor harvest-weeks;
    God gives them food:—
Much more our Father seeks
    To do us good.