I have in mind a four-year-old girl, favored in many things, but
especially happy in that she spends her summers on an island
in a beautiful lake, mountain-rimmed. She has always been
privileged to walk with her father and mother in the fields
and woods; to “go a-trudging,” as she called it, has been her
chief delight. “Where did the trees get their red and yellow
leaves?” she asked. “Who made them red and yellow?” Her question
answered, she ran to her mother with her chubby hands filled
with her new treasures, saying, “See, mama! I have brought you
some of God’s beautiful leaves!”
“How came the island here?” she asked. “Who brought the rocks
and the trees?” She was told how the island was lifted into
its place; how the soil was formed, the trees planted, and the
island made ready for the birds, for the trees, for the rabbits,
for the squirrels, and for her--just as her father had built
the house for her, in which she lived. As the time for her
return to her home approached, she sat one evening watching the
sunset and the early evening stars, and said, “Don’t you hope
that God will be at home when we get there, just as He has been
here this summer?” So linked with her love of the beautiful
in the world was her reverent thought of Him who had made it
beautiful--SARAH LOUISE ARNOLD, “Proceedings of the
Religious Education Association,” 1905.
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