The Snowdrop 



are, who have never needed repentance. 

 And this less perfect old must perish, that 

 from its death may arise the more perfect 

 new. 



And though every form of life, whether 

 high or low, has its own peculiar beauty, 

 yet little here is lost in comparison with 

 what we gain. Snow and ice are cold, 

 deathlike, dreary. Here is a flower which 

 preserves one of the choicest beauties 

 of the snow, and shows what we might 

 otherwise have deemed impossible — 

 that this beauty can be made compatible 

 with life of a more active kind. This 

 is but one of the lower steps of the 

 ladder which must end in heaven, point- 

 ing us to a union of happinesses which 

 cannot coexist on earth, where activity de- 

 stroys contemplation, the fruit the flower, 

 and the love of near relationship forbids 

 the deepest kind. Are these thoughts 

 fanciful or arbitrary ? Is it merely by 

 accident that this flower awakens them, 

 by some chance interweaving of its form 

 with our feelings at the time of its birth, 

 or is it not rather plain that every por- 

 tion of its fabric was exactly framed 

 with a view to awaken and express such 

 feelings ? If arbitrary, the thought would 

 be comparatively worthless ; its value 

 IS 



