&quot; The Fountain Light &quot; 153 



the myriad grasses and ferns and flowers, aye, in 

 streams of the spring and in the very rocks them 

 selves, which are called insensate as if anywhere 

 in a living universe there could be a thing insen 

 sate ! We are not merely in God s hands, we are 

 partakers of his being, and without us, surely, 

 there were no God. 



Why should we limit our vision and shut our 

 ears in the presence and witness of the greater 

 harmonies, the everlasting truths ? Labour in our 

 accustomed ways we must ; the transient busy 

 world of men has work for us all to do, and none 

 may shirk or deny it. But there remaineth a rest 

 to the people of God, and it is open to all to 

 partake of it, not in some imagined heaven with 

 out duties and responsibilities, some abode of sub 

 limated selfishness, but here and now, while we 

 have our work, and are doing it. To it we re 

 turn, as by instinctive movement of that spark of 

 the divine, that true self, the soul we got from the 

 Over-soul, in which abide, though smothered un 

 der passing circumstance and burden, yet now and 

 again thrilling us with deathless fire, the feelings 

 which, &quot; be they what they may,&quot; 



&quot; Are yet the fountain light of all our day, 



Are yet a master light of all our seeing, 

 Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make 

 Our noisy years seem moments in the being 



