THE FLOWER THAT LOOKS UP.


"What beautiful things flowers are," said one of the party of little

girls who were arranging the flowers they had gathered in the pleasant

fields. "Which flower would you rather be like, Helen?"



"Just as if there would be any choice," said Laura. "I like the Rose.

I should like to be the queen of flowers, or none." Laura was

naturally very proud.



"For my part" observed Helen, "I should like
to resemble the

_Rhododendron_; when any one touches it, or shakes it roughly, it

scatters a shower of honey dew from its roseate cups, teaching us to

shower blessings upon our enemies. Oh, who does not wish to be as meek

as this flower? It is very difficult, I know," said Helen; "but we are

taught to possess a meek and lowly spirit."



"It is difficult, I know," said Lucy, "if we trust to our own

strength. It is only when my father looks at me in his kind manner,

that I have any control of myself. What a pity it is that we cannot

always remember that the eye of our Heavenly Father is upon us." "I

wish I could," said Helen.



"Now, Clara, we are waiting for you," said Laura. Clara smiled; and

immediately chose the pale woodbine, or convolvulus, which so

carelessly winds in and out among the bushes--this is an emblem of

loving tenderness.



"Now what says Lucy?" exclaimed Helen.



"I think I can guess," said Clara; "either a violet, or a heart's

ease. Am I right?"



"Not quite," said Lucy, "although both the flowers you have mentioned,

are great favorites of mine. But I think I should like to resemble the

daisy, most, because it is always looking upward."



Certainly Lucy made a wise choice. What more do we require for

happiness, than to be able, let the cloud be ever so dark, to look

upward with trusting faith in God.



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