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Flowers

Written by my Father, J.C. Cline, in 1962


I gaze at the hillside in the early spring

And the sight that I see is a beautiful scene.

For the flowers are scattered all over the rise

In places they're thick as the stars in the skies.

Some yellow, some red, some pink, and some blue

Each eagerly awaiting the morning dew.

After it has fallen on their petals so light

They sparkle like diamonds with all their might.

As if then by magic, the dew disappears

The breeze starts a symphony that each flower hears.

I know this is true, for all through the day

The breeze plays the music and each flower will sway.

Yes, the tiniest breeze, a strong puff of wind

Will start the whole hillside preforming again.

Each bade me welcome and would motion "come in"

By odors of sweetness and fragrance they'd send.

So while picking a bouquet, which I could not resist,

I thought of a proverb which goes something like this:

"Consider the lily found out in the field

Arrayed in its splendor, springs forth by God's will.

And the mighty King Solomon, the wealthiest of man

Surpassed not this lily I held in my hand."

So, down on my knees amid the flowers that day

I looked toward heaven and started to pray:

"Jehovah, my God, way up there above

Creator of all things, who's way is love.

Please send down your spirit to guide and teach me

To praise you and serve you wherever I be.

And as I endeavor to follow your will

May I do so with the beauty of the flowers on the hill."



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