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the lilies of the field, They neither toil nor sow; Yet God doth all things needful yield, That they may bud and blow.

Not Solomon in glory shone Like one of these poor flowers, That look to God, and God alone, For sunshine and for showers.

And does His mercy value less The offspring of His grace? And will a Father's love not bless The child that seeks His face?

Oh, then away with fear and care For all that may betide: And turn to God in trustful pray'r, And in His love confide.

He is our Father, and He knows His earthly children's need; On all our daily wants and woes He looks with careful heed.

 

e'er my heart in riper years Shall beat with anguish, grief, or fears, My Jesus He will hear each moan, And gently say, "Thou'rt not alone."

Though fled were every earthly friend On whom I might or could depend 