DECEMBER 213 



Strange wonder with a delicious surprise 

 held the child's lips that he could not 

 speak. And the mother gently led him 

 by the hand up to the beauteous tree, and 

 pointing to the ripe living fruits that hung 

 thereon, she whispered : ' They are yours ! ' 

 They were of such kinds as ripen not in 

 earthly gardens. The radiance and the 

 colours of them shone from a heavenly 

 land, where grow unchecked the fruits of 

 love and joy and peace, of wisdom and of 

 eternal life and innocence. Wreathed 

 about the branches were garlands of the 

 freshest flowers, pure flowers of meekness 

 and gentleness and long-suffering and truth. 

 And amidst of these immortal flowers and 

 fruit, half hidden by their bloom, far far up 

 beyond our reach, hung many crowns of 

 divers kinds jewelled crowns of delight, 

 and rainbow crowns of fancy, white cold 

 snow-crowns, and royal crowns of fire, and 

 pale crowns of fear and silvery chains 

 festooned with pearls which are tears ... 

 But on all these we set not our eyes. For 

 near the very summit of the green pyramid 

 of glory, hung one beautiful flower-crown 



