THE BEAUTIFUL. 119 



fices himself for the love of his friend ; wherever the 

 mother watches and waits in anxious vigils by her sick 

 child's bedside; wherever the father, for his family's sake, 

 welcomes the care and labor which waste his powers and 

 sap his life-blood; wherever a stricken heart pours its 

 libation of tears and rekindles a tender memory over 

 the tomb of buried love, in all these acts of blessed and 

 beautiful human life we feel that there is drawn up from 

 the deep susceptibilities of humanity something which is 

 divine and infinitely beautiful. Oh, how blessed to attain 

 such beauty as this! 



In the reason of every one exists the idea of perfect 

 virtue, unspotted purity. We think of that ideal purity 

 with a feeling of admiration, with a feeling of aspira- 

 tion. Oh, who has not sighed for a nearer approach to 

 that ineffable excellence? 



"Nearer, my God, to thee." 



Who has not wept that with all his aspirations and aims 

 he has fallen so far short of this standard? I never en- 

 countered a pure and guileless character but I felt like 

 falling in worship before it. And my reverence is height- 

 ened when sinlessness has been won in the conflict of 

 temptation and the storm of passion. 



Our human life is embellished and beautified with pic- 

 tures of immaculate purity blended with helpless inno- 

 cence. The little children which throng our pathways and 

 cling to our necks, beautiful messengers which come 

 out of heaven through the clouds which settle about the 

 celestial heights, touch our hearts and melt them with 

 the sweet radiance of their innocent faces, utter a few 

 phrases which live moi'e imperishably in our memories 



