[Written for the Sentinel.]

GOD DIRECTS

Whether the flower grow fast or slow,Whether the rain be fallingOr on its petals the sunbeams glowWhen the south wind is calling;Whether the dew bathe its tender face,Or a chill breeze be blowing,Through a divine, eternal graceGod hath directed its growing.

Whether the mellow fields of grainSmile in the August dawning;Whether the grasses in meadow or plainScatter sweet incense each morning,Whether they send forth a tender flower,Or be swept away in the mowing,Every day, every passing hourGod hath directed the growing.

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Editorial
BLESSING AND BLESSED
December 28, 1912
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