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A Field Service

by Ada A. Mosher

The Sabbath bell, the Breeze,
From its belfry in the trees,
Rang a summons to the little congregation;
And the Grasses sat in rows
Crowding one another close
Till the pews were filled to almost suffocation.

The Wild Rose read the Gospel
And the Clover led in prayer,
While the Briar Brethren, bending rev'rently,
Clasped their hands and now and then
Answered soft "Amen, Amen!"
Then they all sang "Let thy blessing fall on me."

"Even me—Even me"
With a touching modesty
That shrank as tho' its pleading were a boast,
As if He could love them less
For their homespun little dress
Knowing not that, being poor, He loved them most.

A curly-headed Thistle
Nodded o'er his tiny Missal
While the Daisy preached the sermon—how he stares—
Looking every inch the scholar
With his snowy Roman collar
And that amber-colored monocle he wears.

He preached upon the creed
Of the Wild-flower and the Weed,
And his logic carried with it full conviction,
And they all—but here it thundered,
So they rose and sang "Old Hundred,"
And a Shower gave the final Benediction.