Everyman’s Hut

Camp News, Volume 3, Issue 153, 18 December 1942, Page 4

Everyman’s Hut

God of the granite arid the rose! Soul of the sparrow and the-bee! ' The mighty tide of being flows, 4 Through countless channels, Lord, from thee. „ ■ It leaps to life in grass and flowers, Through every grade of being runs; Till, from creation’s radiant towers, Its glory flames in stars and suns. f; Know that, like birds, and streams, and flowers, The life that moves you is divine; Nor time, nor. space, nor human . ' : powers, Your god-like spirit can confine. ■ God of the granite and the rose! Soul of the sparrow and the bee! The mighty tide of being flows, Through all thy creatures, back to thee. ' Thus round and round the circle runs; A mighty sea without a shore; While men and angels, stars and suns, Unite to praise thee evermore. —L. Doten.

When I gaze into the blue deaths of the summer sky, or watch from the edge of the cliffs the ’ cloud-shadows .r-.-TmT, ,'fl'MHni.: WT IT 110 IMI nil IM chasing one another over the fertile berwyira., , nwdw mu ,&iwnwiwiw>ii plain, or, far. below the great sweep of purple heather, see the lake asleep "ini , yfrwatwiuyjar-. furwy' m *l/1114 beneath the sun, I see God, as it were, clad in His vesture of material loveliness. ' ' ' £ ' - Charles Beard. ' God comes to us through every, manifestation of life and power and beauty of which we can dream. . . . He is closer to us than the air we breathe, closer to us than the thoughts we think; for He . is the element in which we live and move and have our being. ... If you hold in your hand a rose and admire its fragrance, its tinting, its beauty, God looks out of it into your —Minot J. Savage.

The sight of the first pale flowers starring the copses; an anemone held up . against the blue sky with the sun shining through it towards you; . ... who that has ; felt the joy of these things would exchange them, even if in return he were to gain - the whole world with its 1 chimney-pots, and bricks, and dust, and dreariness ? And we know that the gain of a world never yet made up for the loss of a —From The Solitary Summer. EVERYMANS THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK. Flowers preach to us if we will hear. —Christino Rosetti.