[i. A NEST IX A HEATHER BUSH. 135 



Of hue, and shape, and fragrance, of the flo\ver 



Both making up the marriage-feast of spring. 



The heather-bells make silent music, which 



The inner ear of soul alone can hear; 



The bird's sweet song expresses all the joy 



Of young life budding from the old and sere 



The perfect harmony of means and ends 



In God's great world, of kindred natures made. 



Above the mystery of a higher life 



Hid in its heart the seed of future wings 



And future song the wayside heather-bush, 



Burning with its own crimson fire of bloom, 



Reveals the presence of the great " I Am," 



Who clothes the lilies feeds the fowls of Heaven, 



Associates Himself with all His works, 



Dwells in the bush and in the human heart, 



And gives expression full in various modes 



To the same primal element of love ; 



So that the passer-by, who looks within, 



And understands the meaning of the sight, 



Puts off his shoes in reverence, and feels 



The place whereon he stands is holy ground. 



