II Is rnining, llttle flowers ? lie glnd of rain ! Too iiiiuh raiu would wlther thee, Twlll shiue again. Ihe clouds are very black, 'tis trae, But just beyond thera shlnes the blue. Art thon weary, tender heart? Be glad of pain ; Iu sorrow sweetest t lii hl;s wlll grow. As flowers In rain. Qod wHicliis, and thou wilt have Kim When clouds thelr perfect work havi' AtÉM.