When you’re walking in the garden
With its many-colored flowers,
Do you ever stop and wonder,
As you gaze, perhaps for hours,
Why so many shapes and sizes—
And each one a different hue—
Pink and white and red and yellow
And some lavender and blue?
‘Tis the handiwork of God.
Can you tell when sitting, resting
In the shade of some old tree,
Why the oaks and pines and cedars
All so different should be?
Or why carrots, beets, and lettuce,
Pears, bananas, plums, and grapes
Differ all in taste and color
And have many different shapes?
Tis the handiwork of God.
When you’re standing by your window
Wrapped in wonder at the sight
Of the moon in all her brightness,
And the beauties of the night,—
At the planets shining brightly,
And the twinkling stars beyond,
Does a note of thanks and gratitude
Deep in your heart respond
To the handiwork of God?
Yes, the flowers, the trees, the mountains
All bespeak God’s love and power,
And the heavens in all their splendor
Breathe His glory, hour by hour,
May our hearts be ever grateful
To the One Who made them all,
And our ears be ever open
To His tender, loving call.
09/13/1936