“Remember thine early days—
The orange grove, the vine-clad hill;
The river where the sunbeams play—
The evening calm and still.
“Remember thine early days—
Thy mother’s smile, thy sister’s song;
Thy childhood’s little hymns of praise,
Which kept the heart from wrong.”
Then did the air and the ocean break out into a tender joy; and the spirit of the man rode on the waves of sweet sound along the whole course of the Mediterranean into the sunny Adriatic, and among the rocks of the Ægean. And voices came from the Capes of Sicily, whispering that God the Beautiful expected his children to be Beautiful too—beautiful in spirit, in thoughts, affections, and desires. And a like strain floated over the Grecian Isles, and told the enraptured listener, what a spirit of love it was which had poured out the beauty of Heaven on the hills and plains and valleys of the world; and it bid him believe that He who had cherished the grass and the flower through the dews of night and the chill of winter, did also intend a kindness to the soul, in pouring on it the dews of sorrow.
And the man wept, and mingled his feeble voice with nature’s, and they worshipped together, and said—“Our Father! Hallowed be thy name!”