. In the interest of
intelligence his mind is sheathed in this sensitive body and the world
forces without report themselves to this sensitive nerve mechanism.
Fire comes in to burn man's fingers and teach him how to make the fire
smite vapor from water. Cold comes in to nip his ears and pinch his
cheeks until he learns the economy of ice, snow and rain. Steel cuts
his fingers and the blood oozes out. Thenceforth he turns the axe
toward the trees and the scythe toward the standing grain. The stone
falling bruises him, compelling a knowledge of gravity and the use of
trip-hammer, weights and pulleys. Looking downward the eye discerns
the handwriting on the rocks and the mind reads earth's romantic
story. Looking upward, the vision runs along the milky way for
measuring the starry masses and searching out their movements. The ear
strains out sweet sounds, and St. Cecilia hears melodies from the sky.
Bending over the cradle, the parent marvels at God's bounty in the
face of a babe. When the little one goes away the parent copies its
face in rude colors, or carves its form in marble. Thus all the arts,
sciences and inventions are gifts of the body to man's mental and
moral life.

There is a beautiful story of a company of celestial beings, who, in
disguise, entered an ancient city upon a mission of mercy. Departing
hurriedly, in some way a fair young child was left behind and lost. In
the morning when men came upon the streets they found a sweet boy with
sunny hair sitting upon the steps of the temple. Language had he none.
He answered questions with streaming eyes and frightened face. While
men wondered a slave drew near, carrying a harp. Then the heavenly
child signaled for the instrument, for this language he could speak.
He threw his arms about the harp as the child about its mother's neck.
He touched one string. Upon the hushed air there stole out a note
pure, clear, and sweet as though amethysts and pearls were melted into
liquid melodies. It was music, but not such music as mortals give to
mortals. It was such a song as spirit would sing to spirit, signaling
across the streets of heaven. It was a hymn to the mother whom he had
loved and lost. With tearful eye and smiling face the little stranger
and the harp together wept, and laughed, and sobbed out their grief
and song. It was the speech of a child homesick for heaven. What that
harp was to the silent boy, the human body is to man's soul within.
The soul teemed wi