LAURA E. NEWELL.
1. See, the fields of grain are waving,
In the sunlight free and bright,
And the sweet voiced birds are trilling
Silv'ry songs of pure delight.
'Tis the hand that formed the heavens
That hath all our blessings given,
All things speak his boundless love,
And his watchful care we prove.
2. For the flow'rs that seek the valleys,
Doth his tender love provide,
Much more doth he love his children,
Safe by him whate'er betide.
Oh! The peerless perfect beauty,
Seen on hillside, grove and valley,
Blessings which with us remain,
Make our lives one glad refrain.