How kind the grass has been
To my wayfaring feet;
How often have the flowers
Refreshed with fragrance sweet,
The great rock shelter given,
The sunshine cheered my way—
And yet how often I
Have, thankless, gone my way.
And will the grass then be
Less kind unto my feet,
The sun refuse to shine,
The flowers withhold their sweet?
And, wherefore, should I say—
When friends unfaithful prove,
Ungrateful or unkind—
"I will no longer love"?
We have no power to change
Man's God-appointed role,
More than sun, rock, or flower
Their part in the great whole.
The earth brings forth the grass,
Flowers send sweet breath above,
The sun lights all the world,
And we, Love's likeness, love.
