vanity, in bondage to corruption, travailing in pain, looking
forward in a sort of desperate hope to a freedom not yet realized
(Rom. 8:19-24). Nature is far less tragic for Jesus, far
happier--perhaps because he knew nature on closer terms of intimacy;
Nature, as he portrays things, is in nearer touch with the Heavenly
Father than we should guess from Paul[10], and there is no hint in
his recorded words that he held the ground to be under a curse. If
we are to use abstract terms and philosophize his thought a little,
we may agree that the four facts Jesus notes in Nature are its
mystery, its regularity, its impartiality, and its peacefulness[11].
What he finds in Nature is not unlike what Wordsworth also finds--

A Power
That is the visible quality and shape
And image of right reason; that matures
Her processes by steadfast laws; gives birth
To no impatient or fallacious hopes,
No heat of passion or excessive zeal,
No vain conceits; provokes to no quick turns
Of self-applauding intellect; but trains
To meekness, and exalts by humble faith;
Holds up before the mind intoxicate
With present objects, and the busy dance
Of things that pass away, a temperate show
Of objects that endure?[12]

This is not a passage that one could imagine the historical Jesus
speaking, or, still less, writing; but the essential ideas chime in
with his observation and his attitude "for the earth bringeth forth
fruit of herself; first the blade, then the ear, after that the full
corn in the ear" (Mark 4:28). Man can count safely on earth's
co-operation. From it all, and in it all, Jesus read deep into God's
mind and methods.

It has often been remarked how apt Jesus was to go away to pray
alone in the desert or on the hillside, in the night or the early
dawn--probably no new habit induced by the crowded days of his
ministry, but an old way of his from youth. The full house, perhaps,
would prompt it, apart from what he found in the open. St.
Augustine, in a very appealing confession, tells us how his prayers
may be disturbed if he catch sight of a lizard snapping up flies on
the wall of his room (Conf., 10:35, 57). The bird flying to her
nest, the fox creeping to his hole (Luke 9:58)--did these break into
the prayers of Jesus--and with what effect? Was it in such hours
that he learnt his deepest lessons from the birds and the lilies of
the field? Why not? As he sat ou