238 IN PRAISE OF THE WEYMOUTH PINE. 
otee turns critic —an easy step, alas, for 
half-hearted worshipers — we are conscious 
of no lack. Magnificence can do without 
prettiness, and a touch of solemnity is bet- 
ter than any amusement. 
Where shall we hear better preaching, 
more searching comment upon life and death, 
than in this same cathedral? Verily, the 
‘ pine is a priest of the true religion. It 
speaks never of itself, never its own words. 
Silent it stands till the Spirit breathes upon 
it. Then all its innumerable leaves awake 
and speak as they are moved. Then “he 
that hath ears to hear, let him hear.’? Won- 
derful is human speech, — the work of gen- 
erations upon generations, each striving to 
express itself, its feelings, its thoughts, its 
needs, its sufferings, its joys, its Inexpressi- 
ble desires. Wonderful is human speech, 
for its complexity, its delicacy, its power. 
But the pine-tree, under the visitations of 
the heavenly influence, utters things incom- 
municable; it whispers to us of things we 
have never said and never can say, — things 
that lie deeper than words, deeper than 
thought. Blessed are our ears if we hear, 
for the message is not. to be understood by 
