652 VIS MEDICATRIX NATURAE 



We live in her midst and know her not. She is inces- 

 santly speaking to us, yet betrays not her secret . . . 



She rejoices in illusion. Whoso destroys it in himself 

 and others, him she punishes with the sternest tyranny. 

 Whoso follows her in faith, him she takes as a child to her 

 bosom. 



She wraps man in darkness, and makes him for ever long 

 for light. She creates him dependent upon the earth, dull 

 and heavy ; and yet is always shaking him until he attempts 

 to soar above it ... 



I praise her and all her works. 



She has brought me here and will also lead me away. I 

 trust her. She may scold me, but she will not hate her 

 work. 



Every one sees her in his own fashion. She hides under a 

 thousand names and phrases, and is always the same. 



I praise her and all her works. She is silent and wise. 

 I trust her." 



But we cannot worship Nature. We cannot be grateful 

 to a system. We cannot find abiding human satisfaction in 

 Nature's voices alone. Invigorating, inspiring, and instruc- 

 tive they certainly are, but they are full of perplexities, and 

 it is with a sad wistfulness that we hear their echoes dying 

 away in the quietness of our minds like the calls of curlews 

 on the moor as they pass further into the mist. Happy, then, 

 are those who have what Sir Thomas Browne called " a 

 glimpse of incomprehensibles, and thoughts of things that 

 thoughts but tenderly touch ". Shall we not seek to worship 

 Him whom Nature increasingly reveals, from whom all 

 comes and by whom all lives ? 



