A LITTLE daisy, White and gold, In my garden grew; All the daisy knew, Could be told In five lines or less; Yet the day I bless, That little flower, With heavenly dower, Sweet comfort brought to me. In its humble grace, I beheld the face Of the Christ of old, Who the birds and flowers, Loved with tender love. Would He love me less Than He loved the lilies long ago? Little daisy, bright and fair, We may trust His constant care, In field and garden everywhere |