Even the Smallest

By: Pioneer, Maria


In a garden somewhere near,

A buttercup once grew.

She was not tall, but quite small,

And sad and lonely, too.

The little flower sighed,

“It’s awful to be so plain.

Lovely flowers please God,

But what can buttercups gain?”

The buttercup had a neighbor,

A vain daisy that was feared.

She heard the little one’s sigh,

Then laughed at her and sneered.

“Why do you wish to please Him?”

The flower huffed with glee,

“You are little, I am great,

He looks not at you, but me!”

Poor Buttercup cried all night,

Not wishing to go to bed.

“He cannot love me,” she whispered,

Dropping down her yellow head.

But in the morning, she saw a sight,

Which turned her mind around:

A dozen tiny forget-me-nots,

Were smiling up from the ground.

The buttercup asked,

“Why are you so gay?

Clouds cover the sky.

What makes you glad today?”

The tiny flowers answered,

“Because God loves us so,

And He gives us water and soil.

He is why we live, you know.”

The buttercup was confused.

How can He, so great, love you?

Surely, he cares for the lilies more,

And the roses and tulips, too.”

“No,” the little ones said,

“He loves us all the same, indeed.

For He sends the rain and sun,

And grew us each from a seed.”

The buttercup thought for a second,

That maybe they were right.

How could she live without water?

Or the sun which gives light?

“But, He cannot be happy with us,”

Said the buttercup small,

“We are not tall or beautiful,

We can do nothing at all.”

“Oh, yes we can,”

The others hastened to say,

“If we simply be the best we can be,

We thank Him every day.”

“He made us quite simple,”

Said the little white flowers,

“And we shall try to be so,

Throughout our days and hours.”

The buttercup was happier

From that day forward.

She no longer cried,

But tried to please her Lord.

With her plain yellow face,

She looked up high to the sun,

And thanked God for everything

That He was doing and had done

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