"For who but He who formed the skies,
And poured the day-spring's living flood,
Wondrous alike in all He tries,
Could rear the daisy's simple bud!

"Mould its green cup, its wiry stem,
Its fringed border nicely spin;
And cut the gold-embossed gem,
That, shrined in silver, shines within;

"And fling it, unrestrained and free,
O'er hill, and dale, and desert sod,
That man, where'er he walks, may see,
In every step the trace of God."


"And I, too, have had my daisy given to me," poor Mrs. Newton would
say, with tearful eyes, as she gazed on her little flower-girl; "I
too have my daisy, and though it may be little cared for in the
world, or trodden under foot of men, yet will it ever bear, I trust,
the trace of God."

But it happened the very morning that the gentleman had given Fanny
the half-sovereign in mistake, Mrs. Newton's money was quite spent;
and she was much troubled, thinking the child must go the next
morning to the garden without money to pay for her flowers, for she
did not think it likely she would sell enough to buy what they
required, and pay for them also; so she told Fanny she must ask Mr.
Simpson to let her owe him for a day or two until she got a little