(Macmillan's Magazine, Jan. 1866.)

Consider
The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:--
We are as they;
Like them we fade away,
As doth a leaf.

Consider
The sparrows of the air of small account:
Our God doth view
Whether they fall or mount,--
He guards us too.
Consider
The lilies that do neither spin nor toil,
Yet are most fair:--
What profits all this care
And all this coil?

Consider
The birds that have no barn nor harvest-weeks;
God gives them food:--
Much more our Father seeks
To do us good.