222 



incessantly and simultaneously, in a hundred different ways, all 

 over the world ; its diversity not destroying its unity, nor its unity 

 abolishing its diversity. It is too vast for human realisation as a 

 whole. In virtue, however, of its apparent divisions, its dismember- 

 ment to the human eye — assuming, as it does, an immense variety 

 of phases — it can be realised in detail ; and, in fellowship with any 

 one of the details, the soul of man has unquestionable fellowship with 

 the very essence of nature. Each of these, when apprehended by us, 

 awakens a kindred or correspondent state of feeling, while the 

 conviction of the profound unity of the whole remains unshaken. 

 The highest life of each separate object having thus an interior 

 relation to the life of every other, there is reciprocity amongst 

 them all. a never-ceasing intercommunion, as the common element 

 ebbs and flows throughout them. This is admirably expressed by 

 Mr. Stopford Brooke. He says : — 



"This idea is the loveliest of all which Wordsworth has 

 introduced into English poetry, and it flowed from his conception 

 of everything in nature having its own peculiar life. . . . There 

 was ceaseless intercommunion founded on the unutterable love 

 which flowed through all things, and with which every thing acted 

 on every other. The whole world was linked together ; every part, 

 every element, gave and received, honoured and did service, to 

 each other. . . . And they delight in social intercourse, like 

 friends who love each other — there is no jar, no jealousy, no envy 

 there — their best joy is in being kind to one another."* 



And better illustrations of this idea than those which Mr. 

 Brooke has selected from the poems could not be chosen : — 



Through all her depth, St. Mary's lake 



Is visibly delighted, 

 For not a feature of the hills 



Is in that mirror slighted. 



Or again- 



There is a blessing in the air, 



Which seems a source of joy to yield 



To the bare trees, and mountains bare, 

 And grass in the green field. 



Theology in the English Poets, p. 107. 



