THROUGH LIBRARY WINDOWS 29 



shall be like Him." There is a possible Eden 

 in every garden. Not every one senses it nor 

 sees Him Who walks it as of old, touching it 

 into beauty and distilling His thoughts into its 

 exquisite coloring and sweetness. Our garden 

 grows more and more into a Paradise. I won- 

 der if the word "garden" now so popular in 

 literature, does not root itself back into that 

 primitive paradise where began human life in 

 the world's dawn ? 



Thomas Edward Brown, an English poet, 

 not as well known as he ought to be, puts well 

 our thought— 



" A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot/i 



Rose plot, 



Fringed pool, 



Ferned grot — 



(The veriest school 



Of peace; and yet the fool 



Contends that God is not — 



'Not God! in gardens! when the eve is coolf 



Nay, but I have a sign: 



'Tis very sure God walks in mine!" 



In our garden there are such rare days of end- 

 less variety, such mornings and evenings, such 

 sunshine and shadow, such loyalty and loveli- 



