Sweet flowers are blooming in God’s sight,
Created by His word,
Beneath His heav’n of sunny light,
By spring’s quick pulses stirred.

Through sky blue depths the larks do sing:
Their music fills the air;
What is it makes their voices ring
With gladness ev­ery­where?

It is the love of God, I know,
His world with joy doth fill;
His birds that sing, His flowers that blow,
Each of them does His will.

If He is glad when small birds sing,
And flowers drink the dew,
Can I, His child, do anything
To bring Him service too?

I am not wise, nor great, nor strong,
But I His will may do;
May love and serve Him all day long,
Be innocent and true.

And if to birds and flowers His smile
Of love and joy be giv’n,
His child shall serve Him all the while,
And find that love is Heav’n.