ON THE MANUSCRIPTS OF GOD 



her performances, instead, look like delicate 

 hints and suggestions to lure her children to 

 work miracles with her. 



"Dear children," she seems to say, "hear 

 me play a wind fugue on the pine trees or 

 through the reeds and grasses, or listen to 

 this sylvan chant which I play with falling 

 waters and rustling leaves. My perform- 

 ance is nothing beside what you can do if 

 you will only work out the various sugges- 

 tions which I give you. When you have 

 elaborated all these suggestions, even those 

 which I make so softly that the outer ear 

 misses them entirely, you may inherit a king- 

 dom of heaven of your own making." 



Man, listening with his outer and his in- 

 ward ear, year after year, generation after 

 generation, to these luring hints of his fair 

 mother, has added each year something to 

 the melody and harmony of the world; nor 

 is he more troubled than nature herself be- 

 cause his miracles, like hers, seldom excite 

 any wonder after the waning of a single 

 moon. What did it matter, to the inspired 

 man who Burbanked a tree and a cat into 



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