Monday, August 24, 2009

Flower Garden

Oh, the flowers in her garden cheer the weary mother’s heart
When she bids her chores sweet pardon and she sets an hour apart
Just to bask in perfumed glory of the purples, pinks and blues
And to breathe in all the splendor of a thousand different hues

Oh the flowers in her garden brighten up dear mother’s hours
For what is quite as pleasant as a garden full of flowers?
When a bed of budding promise bursts into most glorious bloom
Triumph after showers in sweet nature’s living-room

Oh, the flowers in the garden when we’re bowed low in sorrow
A precious, loving symbol of fair hope in some tomorrow
For the bud that blooms, then fades and dies all scattered on the ground
Will plant a seed that blooms again when spring-time comes around

Oh, the flowers in the garden, a picture of man-kind
Where youth blooms for a season then is left so far behind
Til the Master of this garden calls us to His world on high
Where we’ll dwell within a garden where the flowers never die

All Rights Reserved Aug. 2009
Janet Martin

All men are like grass and their glory is like the flowers of the field.
The grass withers and the flowers fall
because the breath of the Lord blows on them.
Surely the people are grass.
The grass withers and the flowers fall
But the word of our God stands forever. Isa.40:68

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