24 THE FACE OF THE FIELDS 



The horse in my stable, the robin, the toad, the 

 beetle, the vine in my garden, the garden itself, 

 and I together with them all, come out of the 

 same divine dust; we all breathe the same divine 

 breath ; we have our beings under the same di- 

 vine law; only they do not know that the law, 

 the breath, and the dust are divine. If I do know, 

 and yet can so readily forget such knowledge, can 

 so hardly cease from being, can so eternally find 

 the purpose, the hope, the joy of life within me, 

 how soon for them, my lowly fellow mortals, must 

 vanish all sight of fear, all memory of pain ! And 

 how abiding with them, how compelling, the ne- 

 cessity to live ! And in their unquestioning obe- 

 dience what joy ! 



The face of the fields is as changeful as the 

 face of a child. Every passing wind, every shift- 

 ing cloud, every calling bird, every baying hound, 

 every shape, shadow, fragrance, sound, and tre- 

 mor, are so many emotions reflected there. But 

 if time and experience and pain come, they pass 

 utterly away ; for the face of the fields does not 

 grow old or wise or seamed with pain. It is always 

 the face of a child, — asleep in winter, awake in 

 summer, — a face of life and health always, if we 



