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And answered, "Nay, I love you more for
the modest words you’ve said.
The Master loveth nought so much as sweet
humility,
And He will say I rightly chose.—Dear ones,
look up to me."
And when they shyly raised their heads,
their gentle friend to view,
They caught the colour of his eyes; and
straightway they were blue.
Or it maybe the first white violet bloom
Sprung into life amid the dreary gloom
Of yonder wilderness, where, long ago
The Baptist Prophet wandered to and fro,
And, fasting thro’ that long and lonely Lent,
Cried out with earnest voice, “Kepent!
Repent !”
Did violets then cast oil their robes of blue,
And vow no more to wear so gay a hue?
Did they as nuns put,on a snow-white veil?
Did they as saints a sinful world bewail ?
Did they unite—a sinless sisterhood—
Yet ever humbly praying—“Make us good?’’
We cannot tell.. We only hear
Their one sweet lesson year by year.
Ever they tell us, white or blue,
“Be meek and lowly, pure and true,”
