I felt instinctively that the purpose of this room was not only to give opportunity for practice and pleasure to those whose musical ability lay in this direction, but also, should any wish, to be used for sacred service during Sunday hours or at other times. Turning to Mr. Andrews I asked if my surmise was correct.
“Yes,” he said, “often many of our older members feel unable to take the long trip to church. Frequently, also, the younger people for some reason are disinclined to go. Amid such surroundings, however, there is opportunity for all to express their praise and thanksgiving.”
Our way then led us to another room whose predominant coloring in delicate greens, exquisite pictures, inviting books and graceful furniture declared it to be indicative of spring with all her beauty of leafing trees, budding blossoms, rippling waters released from winter’s cold embrace and the time when all nature seems to have gained new life, new strength, new inspiration. I think I liked this best. I could get from it my conception of what our lives should be. Free from the repelling cold of winter in our manner, in our thoughts and in our hearts; free from the feeling of depression, lassitude and inactivity accompanying hot summer days; free from the involuntary sense of sadness and cheerlessness that sometimes comes to those who know the changes of the seasons and in fall see the days glide by, now bright, now gloomy, the leaves showing forth in all their autumn splendor before they gently drop and die, and nature seems to have reached perfection only to wither and decay. But spring carries the blessed thought of resurrection, of a new life on earth and beyond, of hope and cheer, of inspiration to do and to be what is best. So of all I proclaimed this my choice.
“Spring, Spring, beautiful spring
Laden with glory and light you some;
With the leaf, the bloom, and the butterfly’s wing,
Making our earth a fairy home.
The primroses glitter—the violets peep;
And zephyr is feasting on flower and bloom.
Arouse, ye sluggards, what soul shall sleep