In London there dwells a man interested in rare and exotic
plants. A friend who had been in the Amazon brought him home a
rare tree. In the winter he keeps it in the hothouse, but when
summer comes, he carries it into his garden. So beautiful is
the bloom that he gave garden-parties that men might behold the
wondrous flower. One summer’s day he noticed a strange thing
that set his pulses throbbing--a singular fruit had begun to
set. Sending for an expert, they took counsel together. They
knew that this was the only tree of the kind in Paris, and they
could not understand from whence had come the pollen that had
fertilized the plant. At length they published the story in the
papers, and that story brought the explanation. A merchant wrote
that years before he had brought to Marseilles a young plant
from the Amazon. The pollen of that tree nearly four hundred
miles away had been carried on the wings of the wind over hill
and vale, and found out the blossom that awaited its coming.
And not otherwise is it with the soul. Because it is in His
likeness, it shares with Him in those attributes named reason,
wisdom, goodness, holiness and love. The soul waits. Without God
it can do nothing. Its life is from afar. Expectant and full
of longing, it hungers and thirsts, and desires His coming.
That repentant youth, lying in the desert, with a stone for his
pillow, waits, and then the light comes from God.--N. D. HILLIS.
(1802)