There are many things I have yet to see,
Many places and people to seek,
Many a virtue to find and be,
Lost in the Almighty hand of God.
I have traveled some weary roads,
I have carried a breaking load,
Many a river, and many a flood
Has barred me from things I cannot see.
Yet---in the pursuit of soft, bright flowers
Blooming and bending beneath the hours
I look at some fair and freeing power
Which is ever-present in the wood.
Nature's calamities bare no scorn,
Offer no anger against winter's war,
And the petals that on those harsh winds are borne
Sing nothing, save joy to their Lord.