The courier. (Lincoln, Neb.) 1894-1903, 1901-06-01
THB COURIER.
BRIEF CHAPTERS.
BY FLORA BULLOCK.
For The Courier

morning. II is not long till the bell will
rouse the household. and out Of doors
there lie no ono but the birds and the
great calm sun. / will show you the
way to my hill where you may stand and
touch the skies and view the tops OF
trees.
1t is Sabbath morning Of liquid sun.
shine that flows and swells around you.
hearing to your ears the snthems Of q
choir invisible; dimly you hear it
through all the love songs Of birds.
These are Of the earth, earthly. compared
with the celestial harmonic, that softly
breathe around you, vibrating the cords
o. the soul in sympathy. We must be
silent. This song never rises above q
babblipg Of tongues. Let worldly cares
and fears fall from you. Then stand
and gaze and hear and feel. and you
shall know the peace Of God.
The white dew glorifies even that
coarse mullen leaf. They have plowed
the unbeautiful potsto-tield, and the
smell Of the earth is sweet. The ugliest
Of rivers CLEANS in the sunlight. Moth
ing is amiss. Even the mother pig and
her family. cuddled in their pen under
the low locust tree, still sleeping in their
slotb, seem not unworthy Of the morn.
ing. Can it be. though, that in all the
wide world Of those who sleep through
dewy hours. there is one soul that would
not respond in this early service OF wor-
ship moro than that granting creature!
Why sleep away such golden moments!
We need not ''go to church" today.
This hillside is our sanctuary. Let the
preacher close bis book and drive his
people out Of doors. Under the sky is
found deeper peace than all his prayers
can give. His choir, bedecked in gor-
geous raiment, will not satisfy the ears
that have listened to this morning an.
them. And what bond Of brotherhood
lie stronger and sweeter to acknowledge
than the bond Of those who have stood
in silence and listened together out on
the hiIlsider l know that God 10 good.
Do you! Ay, and we are brothers. Out
in the stiffness and beauty Of this May
morning we may look into His face as
the pagans Of old. No church in the
world, no rites and ceremonies, no hu-
man eloquence or surpliced choir can
arouse in US the exaltation Of spirit OF
this morning hour.
Breakfast bell, and our little world
again.
To one member. at least, Of the A.O.U.
w. who visited Nebraska City the leafy
splendor of the place Was feast Of de-
light. He came from the far northwest
where trees do not grow and bluegrass
is dream. The man could not conceal
bis childieh delight and rapture at all
that he saw OF the wonderful green
glory. He would stand and gaze at the
trees, and 60 around and examine them
as il they were curiosi.ies. How barren
his sand bills must seem to him now!
Will it ever be changed out there?
The forestry expedition Of the summer
should be watched with interest by
every Nebraskan, as they 60 on their
way into our desert land. The old
.ancbers, the men of the sand bills
augh at the idea Of trees; the scientists
Who are starting on the long investiga-
ion have misgivings, but they will
,earch out the mystery. Think Of this
that there are trees growing in that
egion that were planted twenty years
.go and are now four feet high. II the |,