ion when he says, 'COME YE YOURSELVES APART INTO A
LONELY PLACE, AND REST A WHILE.' For since his blessed kingdom was first
established in the green fields, by the lakeside, with humble fishermen
for its subjects, the easiest way into it hath ever been through the
wicket-gate of a lowly and grateful fellowship with nature. He that
feels not the beauty and blessedness and peace of the woods and meadows
that God hath bedecked with flowers for him even while he is yet a
sinner, how shall he learn to enjoy the unfading bloom of the celestial
country if he ever become a saint?

"No, no, sir, he that departeth out of this world without perceiving
that it is fair and full of innocent sweetness hath done little honour
to the every-day miracles of divine beneficence; and though by mercy he
may obtain an entrance to heaven, it will be a strange place to him; and
though he have studied all that is written in men's books of divinity,
yet because he hath left the book of Nature unturned, he will have
much to learn and much to forget. Do you think that to be blind to the
beauties of earth prepareth the heart to behold the glories of heaven?
Nay, Scholar, I know that you are not of that opinion. But I can tell
you another thing which perhaps you knew not. The heart that is blest
with the glories of heaven ceaseth not to remember and to love the
beauties of this world. And of this love I am certain, because I feel
it, and glad because it is a great blessing.

"There are two sorts of seeds sown in our remembrance by what we call
the hand of fortune, the fruits of which do not wither, but grow sweeter
forever and ever. The first is the seed of innocent pleasures, received
in gratitude and enjoyed with good companions, of which pleasures we
never grow weary of thinking, because they have enriched our hearts. The
second is the seed of pure and gentle sorrows, borne in submission
and with faithful love, and these also we never forget, but we come to
cherish them with gladness instead of grief, because we see them changed
into everlasting joys. And how this may be I cannot tell you now, for
you would not understand me. But that it is so, believe me: for if you
believe, you shall one day see it yourself.

"But come, now, our friendly pipes are long since burned out. Hark, how
sweetly the tawny thrush in yonder thicket touches her silver harp for
the evening hymn! I will follow the stream downward, but do you tarry
here until the friend come