A church spire, pointing the way toward God;
A dainty flower, pushing up from the sod,
A rainbow of hope in a misty sky;
The flag of our country, waving high.
Fresh curtains of white, in a tenament drear. -
The voice of a friend, bringing comfort, cheer.
A baby's eager, innocent face;
The lisp of a toddler, saying grace.
The song of a mother at her work;
Strong hands of youth that never shirk.
The glistening tear of sympathy, -
A children's choir in sweet harmony.
Clear eyes, bespeaking inward grace;
The tender smile of a wrinkled face.
Oh, beautiful things are everywhere:
Where beauty is - ah - God is there!
Florence B. Taylor
Next - 8/4/55 - Prayer to the Money-Bush
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