measureless and penetrating tide of vitality, 

 the other eagerly, worshipfully receptive. 

 Nature has no more inspiring truth for us 

 than this constant and complete enfolding 

 of our life by a higher and vaster life, this 

 unbroken play of a diviner purpose and 

 force through us. Nothing is lost, nothing 

 really dies ; all things are conserved by an 

 energy which transforms, reorganises, and 

 perpetuates in new and finer forms all vis- 

 ible things. The silence of winter counter- 

 feits the repose of death, but it is not even 

 a pause of life; invisibly to us the great 

 movement goes on in the earth under our 

 feet. While we watch by our household 

 fires, the unseen architects are planning the 

 summer, and the sublime march of the 

 stars is noiselessly bringing back the bloom 

 and the perfume that seem to have van- 

 ished forever. Every morning restores 

 something we thought lost, recalls some 

 charm that seemed to have escaped. 



In all noble natures there is an ineradi- 

 cable idealism which constantly interprets 

 life in its higher aspects. In the dust 

 137 



