SERMONS.
SOMETIMES a little flower will tell us more
Of God's good wisdom than the grandest words
That ever preacher preached or organ chords
Thundered within the temple's sacred door!
A flying seed wafted on busy wind,
A bird-nest hiding where the branches lean,
A glimpse of sunlit valley, left behind,
With sweet homes nestling in the living green,
Some friendly voice that greets us on the road
In common salutation brief and kind,
A gentle glance by stranger eyes bestowed,
The dear face of a child with tender meaning lined,
A lonely grave where violet buds have blown
These are the presents by which-God is known.