God can give and
he can withhold; I do not question his power or his right; I mourn over
the hard gifts from his hand; but when he sends me a sweet gift, let me
try to realise, what I do not doubt, that indeed he wishes me well.
Once in the afternoon we stayed our boat, and I climbed to the top of
the flood-bank and sate looking out over the wide fen; I saw the long
dykes run eastward, the far-off churches, the distant hazy hills; and I
thought of all the troubles that men make for each other, adding so
wantonly to the woes of the world. And I wondered what was this strange
fibre of pain so inwoven in the life of the world, wondered wistfully
and rebelliously, till I felt that I drew nearer in that quiet hour to
the Heart of God. I could not be mistaken. There was peace hidden
there, the peace that to-day brooded over the kindly earth, all
carpeted with delicate green, in the cool water lapping in the reeds,
in the green thorn-bush and the birds' sudden song, even in this
restless heart that would fain find its haven and its home.
LVII
To-day was oppressively hot, brooding, airless; or rather, not so much
without air, as that the air was thick and viscous like honey, without
the thin, fine quality. One drank rather than breathed it. Yet nature
revelled and rejoiced in it with an almost shameless intoxication; the
trees unfolded their leaves and shook themselves out, crumpled by the
belated and chilly spring.
Pages:
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366