The Flowers Talked

As up the schoolhouse road I walked
It seemed to me, the flowers talked;
As if they glorified their God all day,
Their little faces—O so bright-
Reflected heaven's glory light.
For rain and sunshine from above,
They thanked the gracious Lord of Love.
Nor did they murmur nor complain
When for a spell there was no rain.
They took whatever by His grace
Came into their specific place,
Their raiment too had come from Him;
That's why they looked so pure, so prim.
Then wondered I if there might be
A lesson here for you, for me!
Perhaps, if we were like the flowers,
What difference then if sun or showers
Should be our lot? We'd see the good;
We'd praise the Lord the best we could;
We'd wear a smile upon our face
To honour His unfailing grace.

Poems of the Way

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"The flowers appear on the earth…"
Song of Solomon 2.12

Just yesterday, proud in its leafy bower,
I saw a real rose, a perfect flower,
And folded in its golden petals lay
The glorious promise of a summer's day.

Its heart was red, as if pure blood had stained
Each golden petal—some were finely veined,
Like flesh...and yet not flesh—those petals were
A living silk, most wonderful and rare.

Did sin-free Adam, when in Eden's bliss,
See any flower more beautiful than this?
Was there a brighter glow, a sweeter scent,
By paths where Eve, free from the curse, once went?

Today, I thank my God, Who gives my eyes
This sign, this early glimpse of Paradise;
I thank my God, that He still fashions here
The rose, His messenger of hope, each year.

The God of all grace and me
Maurice Cox