_Praise the Lord, Snow and Vapors, fulfilling his word.—Psalm 148:8._
[Illustration]
A striking characteristic of the snow-crystal is its perfection of
form. Whatever be the type of its structure, that type is completed
with the utmost regularity and nicety. Every angle is of the prescribed
size,—not a degree more or less. The number of parts is uniform. You
will never see a star with five rays, nor seven. With a precision
which art would strive in vain to excel, the pattern is carried out in
detail with the most exact symmetry, and in the most nicely-adjusted
proportions.
It is so in _every_ snow-crystal, unless broken or otherwise
injured. God has no show specimens in his cabinets, elaborately
finished, while the mass of them are left imperfect. There are no
obscure corners, no back apartments, where the half-formed, ill-shapen,
abortive portions of his work are gathered, out of sight. The tiniest
speck that is lost in the countless multitudes that robe the earth is
as perfect as if the skill of the Creator had been expended upon this
alone. The flake that falls in the vast polar solitudes, where no eye
of man will ever see it, or that plunges to instant death in the ocean,
is wrought with as much care and fidelity as if it were to sparkle in a
regal crown.
If there be apparent exceptions to this general statement, they are
only apparent, and even these confirm the fact. In ordinary storms,
large portions of the flakes are broken, sometimes reduced almost to
shapeless dust. Often the flakes, coming in contact with each other,
adhere, and constitute masses which are very irregular. Sometimes,
however, this union gives rise to regular forms, as twelve-pointed
stars, which are believed to be two hexagons, the one of them
overlapping the other. (Page 11, fig. 22, 23.) A few cases have been
observed where a ray or point of a star has become the germinating
center of a twin or parasitic star, forming together a structure
anomalous as a whole, though regular in each of its individual parts.
(Page 99, fig. 2.)
This universal perfection of figure results from the constancy and
uniformity of the laws which govern the process of crystallization.
But it is not too much to go beyond these, and behold a Divine mind
which loves beauty for its own sake, and delights to sow it broadcast
throughout creation. Though there be no human eye to behold and to
admire, they will not therefore be unbeheld. It is not true that
“Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And _waste_ its sweetness on the desert air.”
The universe is full of conscious intelligence, from him who is the
“Father of lights,” downward through endless ranks of being, and the
hymn of admiring praise perpetually ascends to him for the perfection
and glory of his works.
* * * * *
Obey God. His laws to the snow-flake are designed to make it beautiful
and useful. So are his laws to you. He tells the flake to put on
such a form and go to such a place, and it goes without murmuring or
reluctance. Obey God, and you will put on the beauty of holiness and
bless the world.
Kirk.
_The Snow-Flake._
“Now, if I fall, will it be my lot
To be cast in some low and lonely spot,
To melt, and to sink unseen and forgot?
And there will my course be ended?”
’Twas thus a feathery snow-flake said,
As down through measureless space it strayed,
Or as, half by dalliance, half afraid,
It seemed in mid-air suspended.
“Oh, no!” said the earth; “thou shalt not lie
Neglected and lone on my lap to die,
Thou pure and delicate child of the sky;
For thou wilt be safe in my keeping.
But then, I must give thee a lovelier form;—
Thou wilt not be a part of the wintry storm,
But revive, when the sunbeams are yellow and warm,
And the flowers from my bosom are peeping!
“And then thou shalt have thy choice, to be
Restored in the lily that decks the lea,
In the jessamine bloom, the anemone,
Or aught of thy spotless whiteness;—
To melt, and be cast, in a glittering bead,
With the pearls that the night scatters over the mead,
In the cup where the bee and the fire-fly feed,
Regaining thy dazzling brightness.
“I’ll let thee awake from thy transient sleep,
When Viola’s mild blue eye shall weep,
In a tremulous tear; or, a diamond, leap
In a drop from the unlocked fountain;
Or, leaving the valley, the meadow, and heath,
The streamlet, the flowers, and all beneath,
Go up, and be wove in the silvery wreath
Encircling the brow of the mountain.
“Or, wouldst thou return to a home in the skies,
To shine in the Iris, I’ll let thee arise,
And appear in the many and glorious dyes
A pencil of sunbeams is blending;
But true, fair thing, as my name is Earth,
I’ll give thee a new and a vernal birth,
When thou shalt recover thy primal worth,
And never regret descending.”
“Then I will drop!” said the trusting flake;
“But bear it in mind that the choice I make,
Is not in the flowers nor the dew to wake,
Nor the mist that shall pass with morning;
For, things of thyself, they will die with thee;
But those that are lent from on high, like me,
Must rise,—and will live, from the dust set free,
To the regions above returning.
“And, if true to thy word and just thou art,
Like the spirit that dwells in the holiest heart,
Unsullied by thee, thou wilt let me depart,
And return to my native heaven.
For I would be placed in the beautiful bow,
From time to time in thy sight to glow,
So thou mayst remember the Flake of Snow,
By the promise that God has given!”
H. F. Gould.
[Illustration]
_Mabel’s Wonder._
“There must be flowers in heaven!”
Little Mabel wondering cried,
As she gazed through the frosted window,—
“Ah yes, ah yes,” I replied.
“And every single blossom
Is white as white can be!”
“Perhaps;”—I carelessly answered,
“When we get there, we shall see.”
“And oh, they have so many!
Why, every tree must be full!”
“Of course,—Spring lasts for ever
In heaven,” I said, so dull.
“Do the angels get tired of flowers?”
Asked she, with a gentle sigh;
“For see, oh see, they are throwing
Whole handfuls down from the sky!”
I sprang to the frosted window,
To see what the child could mean:—
The ground was covered with snow-flakes,
And the air was full between.
I kissed my innocent darling,
And speedily set her right;
While I prayed that her heart might ever
Be pure as the snow and as light.