How fair are the li­lies,
What frag­rance they yield,
Unwatched and un­tend­ed by man!
For the Lord gives them beau­ty
To bright­en the field,
And the flow­ers are part of His plan.
Let me ne­ver des­pair
Of His love and His care,
If He thinks of the flow­ers,
If on fields He has smiled,
He will care so much more for a child.

There is not a spar­row
That cleaves the blue air,
Unnoticed by God in its fall;
For He made them, He knows them,
They all have His care,
And He loves them al­tho’ they’re so small.
Let us bless His dear name
Who is al­ways the same,
For He wants us to know that
We’re thought of above,
And that each lit­tle child has His love.

The moss grows un­seen
In the niche of the wall,
But could not be there with­out God;
And the dew drops that find it,
Where rain can­not fall,
He has pur­pose­ly scat­tered abroad;
So in my low­ly place
I may still feel His grace,
For the dew of His love
Can e’en come to me there,
And His bless­ing in an­swer to pray­er.

As we in His beau­ti­ful
Image were made,
He loves us be­yond all be­side;
But it grieved Him when sin
Caused that im­age to fade,
And to give the lost beau­ty He died;
And He now from His throne
Would make us His own,
He is say­ing with love
That is bound­less and free,
Let the lit­tle ones come un­to Me.