Entwined amid fresh springing grass
Doth odorous thyme her sweets exhale;
Those spicy leaves the flock will pass
On scentless herbage to regale;
While bees, that with the faintest streak
Of early dawn the fields explore,
Will that rejected nectar seek,
And revel in the balmy store.
The Maker and the Lord of all,
Who gives to men their daily bread--
Who marks each little sparrow's fall,
And watches o'er the infant's head;
Great God, who bids the waves retreat--
Who made the sky, the earth, and sea--
Spreads for the flock their pasture sweet,
And guards the portion of the bee.
All these their Maker's law fulfil;
By Nature led, they cannot stray:
But we, with choice of good and ill,
Must learn to take the better way.
