T 2 6 THE OLIVE LEAF, CHAT-. 



expected that a bird which is in constant motion, flying 

 swiftly through the air, catching its prey on the wing, 

 and hardly ever alighting on the ground, would build 

 its nest on a branch of some slender tree, where it 

 might be rocked by the wind like a sailor's hammock. 

 Between such a resting-place and its own restless habits 

 there would, in our estimation, be a suitable harmony. 

 And yet the swallow chooses a very different kind of 

 home. It builds in the corners and under the roofs 

 of strong substantial human dwellings where it may be 

 safe alike from wind and rain. It attaches its frail nest 

 to the enduring structure of man that it may share in 

 its endurance. It seeks, as the Psalmist tells us, the 

 vicinity of the altar of God, the safe sanctuary of holy 

 places. 



i. And is there not a profound lesson for us in 

 this curious contrast ? We, too, are wandering crea- 

 tures, finding no rest for the sole of our foot, because 

 God has endowed us with a nature so vast that no 

 earthly thing can satisfy it. We are pilgrims and 

 strangers on earth. We are migratory like the swal- 

 low ; and the land from whence we have come and 

 to which we are hastening is fairer than any tropical 

 dream of groves of palm and violet skies of unfading 

 summer. We wear immortal wings within ; and no 

 small part of the sadness of human life arises from the 

 incongruity between our capacities and attainments, our 

 longings and enjoyments ; between the infinite duration 

 of our immortal spirits and the transitoriness of all 

 things here. The fox finds its hole and the bird its 



