WILD rose wooed by sunbeams, 

Was sinking back from sight,

And tremblingly unfolding 

Its petals to the light.

O rose, why do thine odors 

The glad air round me thrill?

The rose looked up and answered,

"'Tis my Creator's will."

I asked a kingly eagle, 

With lightning in his eye,

Why upward, ever upward, 

He soaring sought the sky.

With royal pinions tossing

And spurning earth's vile dust,

He said, as heaven received him,

"God wills it, and I must."

I asked Niagara's torrent, 

"Why do thy waters sweep 

With their eternal surges

Down, down yon dizzy steep?" 

A voice replied in thunder

That shook the solid land, 

ÔÇťOmnipotence impels me,

I roll at his command."