The Harvest of a Quiet Eye

the elm-tree's nodding crest; And e'en the nest benea

me of year has passed

nds in a mist of green

ir feather foliage; the ruddy bushy growth that seemed comically like whiskers, at the base of the elms and the lindens, has changed into a surprise of glorified green; the low shoots from the stump of the old oak-tree in the hedge bring out their wealth of soft, crumpled, youn

but life, on such a day as this, imperatively demands to be enjoyed. The copse rings with the laugh of the little willow-wren; the chiff-chaff ceaselessly announces his presence; the woodpecker cries as he leaves tree for tree; the blackcap, not singing ju

y hurtful blast, Spring takes, O sprightly

er before the cruel bill. Only lately, it seems,90 on the way across the fields to the station, a delicate fairy mass, the light lilac of the "faint sweet cuckoo-flower," had spread its kindly screen over the hacked and maimed stumps of the fallen wood. But the

the year? Truly, there are flowers enough at this season to satisfy

ls, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden daffodils, Besi

hey stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten t

a light, a gleam, a possession that he thenceforth held; a sweet, living landscape of the heart, a

ittle thought What wealth

ed with patches of brown land, slanted away under a pale grey sky, even at s

ard eye, Which is th

ime even, that glad gleeful yellow landscape would come back, with something of the light and joy of a kind deed done, o

easure fills, And danc

s forgotten glow comes back, and a hint of the vigour to which dreams seemed realities, and impossibilities possible, stirs the sluggish sap of92 the soul. Such times there are, when the mists of November have departed, and the frosts of the succeeding months, and the bitter winds of March, and the flooding tears of April; it is the May, with its lavish promise and exuberant life, and ecstatic beauty! Times when illness or earth or laziness or lack of power no longer chill the soul that is indeed eager to burs

ter? Why are we not always on the watch for every occasion in which a word may be said, or a deed done, or a thought thought, that shall be a protest for Christ, in this vain and sinful world? Why is God's love but a rare Wintry gleam, and never a steady Summer in our soul? Think, for instance, of such a thing as

ky above us seems pale and heavy, and dull and impenetrable, and our hearts beneath abiding in their Wintry sleep! O

eep his sitter waiting a whole morning, and at last send him away, unable to win the right humour to his heart, and feeling that his work would not be we

ng it is, according to our mood! How delicious a thing is it when th

with thought, Ere thought

ideas

leaves upon a tree

e seem

page, The image of the

ore often February than May within us. A subject that seemed full of leaf when it occurred to the mind so

ur for its work, and of doing that work easily and glibly. How many a Clergyman would endorse this, merely in the every-day case of taking a clas

ad us? I think to two considerations-

mployed. The soul's Flower-time should never be allowed to pass away without having left some noble fruit set. It is common-place to repeat that the May-days of the

thy youth: it will not stay; Enjoy the fragra

therwise it will pass, and no trace be left. We may make a great May-day show by merely gathering our flowers and weaving them into garlands; and there may be much dancing and excitement and glee. But then, it seems purely and simply sad to see them next day lying neglected, limp, and withering, in patc

ious hour; let it not pass unemployed. Do not merely taste, but exhaust its sweetness. When God seems to make His listening apparent, refrain not; besiege His throne with prayers, supplications, praises. And again, when the heart has thawed from its deadness and indifference, and a very May-gathering of zeal for God, of love for God and man, of high and holy96 yearnings and longings and resolves and purposes, crowd upon the Winter sleep of the soul; oh, then, indulge not in a mer

d beside Peter or John; times when it seems a light thing to spend and to be spent for Christ's sake and the brethren; times when the World has no allurements and the Flesh no power, and Satan seems already beat down under our feet; times when we go out to face the hardest duties with no secret desire that the call on us may not be made, but rather with grave steady resolution and with face set like a flint. There are times, I say, whe

lden opportunity remain unemployed. Beware lest the east winds return, and nip and scatter the frail petals ere the germ of some good fruit be formed. Life is ever offering to us Sybilline books, and very often we have at last to give as much effort in old age, for the attaining of a poor service to God, as we should have given, long ago, for a full, rich, hearty, life-long serving Him. Late or early, however, employ the excitements, the May-warmths of the soul.

is pleasanter to speak a painful word, to perform a painful duty, in those moods when the uplifted heart almost exults at having it to do. It is nothing to deny ourselves when some gleam of heaven has so exalted us that the world and the flesh and the devil have nothing to offer which can turn us from the ecstatic contemplation of Christ, and the Home whither He has gone to prepare. But is prayer more acceptable, is praise more beautiful in God's sight when the

always to have a May-day in our heart for this service. And yet, perhaps, indeed almost surely, He does not mean this to be so in this life of discipline. Here it must not be

t listlessness and wandering thoughts, may, if still earnest, prevail or please more-who knows?-than that which seemed to fly up at once full-fledged to heaven's gates. If, though limping, we still hobble on with all our might, we may be really making as much progress as when we seemed to be skimming the ground; for God gives both the wings and the crutches. Of course I am not supposing that the hindrances to love and service arise from want of watchfulness, that let the world creep in, or want of prayer for the Help which alone is sufficient for us. But, generally, we must make up our mind to have more days of weary