Miriamele
I work among my pansies
With an humble, contrite soul,
For I sense their lovely portion
In the part that makes the whole
Of God’s most wondrous, perfect plan,
Whose magnitude and scope
I’ll never fully comprehend
No matter how I hope.
Each blossom has a beauty
That is just its very own,
Each color blended perfectly
As tho from God’s hand blown.
And gently swaying, nodding there,
They seem to beckon me
And ask to be caressed and loved.
Is this their destiny
To ‘waken in the hearts of man
Still stricken to the sod,
A spark of pure unselfish love
Implanted there by God?
I slowly lift each face to mine
And drink its beauty deep,
And ‘round my heart in gentle warmth
The love of God doth creep.
Oh, blessed holy moment
As I kneel here on the ground,
And gaze into the heart of God
In pansies all around.