A Journal Of The 'subjective' Kind I

The Whole World Of Thought Lay Unexplored Before Me, - A World Of Which I Had Already Caught Large And Tempting Glimpses.

The First Real Unhappiness I Remember To Have Felt Was When Some One Told Me, One Day, That I Did Not Love God. I Insisted, Almost Tearfully, That I Did; But I Was Told That If I Did Truly Love Him I Should Always Be Good. I Knew I Was Not That, And The Feeling Of Sudden Orphanage Came Over Me Like A Bewildering Cloud.

Because Its Myriad Glimmering Plumes Like A Great Army's Stir And Wave; Because Its Golden Billows Blooms, The Poor Man's Barren Walks To Lave: Because Its Sun-shaped Blossoms Show How Souls Receive The Light Of God, And Unto Earth Give Back That Glow I Thank Him For The Goldenrod.

The Beauty Of Work Depends Upon The Way We Meet It — Whether We Arm Ourselves Each Morning To Attack It As An Enemy That Must Be Vanquished Before Night Comes, Or Whether We Open Our Eyes With The Sunrise To Welcome It As An Approaching Friend.

Canst Thou Prophesy, Thou Little Tree, What The Glory Of Thy Boughs Shall Be?