Bees On Pink Zinnias

This is my Father's world, and to my listening ears
all nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Father's world: I rest me in the thought
of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
his hand the wonders wrought.


This is my Father's world, the birds their carols raise
the morning light, the lily white declare their maker's praise.
This is my Father's world: He shines in  all that's fair;
in the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.
Maltbie D. Babcock