Of His Good Pleasure 1 93 



Of His Good Pleasure 



THE splendour of the hills and plains is 

 wonderful ; the trees which a week ago 

 were as green as in June have felt the re 

 inforcement of the rains, which have put into solu 

 tion the salts of the earth that give to our forests 

 the marvelous hues of the season. Here once 

 more is the magic of transformation, here once 

 more the unceasing expression of the life which 

 wreaks that lovely magic. Man has in himself 

 incorporate a personality which leaves him at his 

 end a problem and an uncertainty to himself; but 

 if he could meet his seasons as the roses and 

 grasses and trees do, would he not desire and 

 would he not receive such vicissitudes between 

 spring and spring, through summer and fall and 

 winter, with joy and triumph ? Not thus is it 

 with man, that restless spark of the divine with 

 in him can have no pauses for recovery and re 

 newal ; on it must go, and its best chance for 

 developing advance is by Goethe s motto, &quot; With 

 out haste, without rest.&quot; And this other : &quot; For 



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