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
"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.