The Tree said to the Sun
“Only and Perfect One!
Master of heat and light
Before whom the day is bright—
After whom follows the night;
In whose warmth we bloom and grow
And the sap streams richly flow;
Whose rays draw up the rain
To pour upon earth again;—
Rain, the delight of our leaves;—
O Sun! my strong heart grieves
That I may not better express
Our exquisite thankfulness—
Nor find fit voice to raise
In gratitude and praise—
That my soul no way can see
Rightly to worship Thee!”

Answered The Sun to the Tree—
“What is such praise to me?
Can you imagine The Sun
Caring that any one
Of the myriad plants of earth
Should appreciate his worth?
The joy of the glowing Sun
Is to feel that his work is done
That work in the life you know
Is to make things Grow!

Grow! If you wish to praise!
Let golden harvests blaze,
Let roses blossom as now,
The red fruit weigh on the bough
While green leaves bathe in the light
And the trees build height on height

I am to be worshipped So—
Be what you are—And Grow!