The Butterflies of the Field It is a beautiful world; Green trees, and fields, and flowers all basking in sunshine. Not far away, In some field you may know, Butterflies flit to and fro, As far as the eyes can see; Dancing from flower to flower most joyfully. A sip of nectar here and there, But mostly in the air; Flaunting their gorgeous wings. Look at me! Look at me! They seem to boast aloud. Watch the sunlight on our wings! See it dazzle! See it dance! This is not by chance! To think that creatures such as we could be formed by any other than the Master's hands. They shake their dainty heads. How foolish, They cry, To conceive that we were formed by accident. To think we appeared out of nothing, Because of nothing, Without any consideration of the brilliance of our design. But we are told that that is how the world is. And how strange it is that people think themselves so keen when they can't see what is right in front of their eyes. Don't they know; All of creation testifies!
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