Classic Poem

God careth for the smallest seed,
Which falls into the ground;
It springeth up a noble tree,
And spreads its branches round.

He careth for the feeble worm,
Which spins its shroud to die;
He gives it many-colored wings,
And bids it soar on high.

Through all the realms of God below,
Through all his realms above;
A differing glory still proclaims
The same great Father's love.

So is the rising from the dead!
'Tis not what thou hast sown;
But, in the body God shall give,
Will each to each be known.

A mortal body here thou see'st
Unto dishonor given;
But that no pain, nor death shall know,
A glorious house from heaven!

God's various power, which cares for all,
E'en for the smallest seed;
And gives to each its different form,
According to its need;

Will for thy body, Man, provide,
Which now thou see'st decay;
And crown it with a glory too,
Which shall not fade away.