As the Lily
Oh, to be yellow, joy wrought in petal,
Golden sun and twinkling rain.
To dance in breeze, bloom soft and unsettled,
To never weep, to know no pain.
Yet flowers fade as seasons change,
And erring foot may trample range.
But deeper roots no storm can shake,
In God’s own hand, no heart can break.
For tears we shed are cleansing rain,
That sharpens sight to see again.
Though fleeting, pain refines the heart,
In our Sculptor’s hand, a healing art.
Better human than lily’s white,
Better heart and flesh than fragile stem.
Better still, a child in God’s light
Who will not fade but rise again.
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