The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1908-08-01

that nature is God, and that death i
an eternal sleep. Shall we believ,
them?
The learned scientist of today af
firms that nature follows true and un
changing laws, and that like eve
produces like. He also afirms tha
atoms and molecules are both blinC
and unreasoning, and yet they evel
follow and are controlled by laws that
are reasonable and unchanging, a:
fixed in their course as the eternal
stars. But he denies the operations
of creative God and posits the eter.
nal nature of matter and its laws.
He forgets, however, that like be-
gets only like; that the atoms and
molecules, being blind and unreason-
ing, could not themselves have evolv-
ed the reasonable and perfect laws
that control them. Where then did
the atoms get those laws? And right
there we must acknowledge that a
higher power formed them. Even
the heavens, as nightly they put on
their glittering crowns, declare with
eloquent silence the power and glory
of the great God, the creator and up
holder of all things, seen and unseen.
Every planet sends its ray, and the
pencils of light thus formed of many
rays are the instruments with which
God writes upon the minds of men
the great facts of creation. And oh,
that men would accept the message
nightly sent them from the Father OF
lights, whose love for them is so ten
der and so true; a love that shall
abide when the stars shall have grown
cold and shine no more.
How beautiful are the skies and
fantastic cloudlands I have witnessed
through b your windstirred leafy
branches, or from the entrances to
your corridors. How shall I ever
forget the streamers and banks of
soft violet clouds, their edges bloom
ing like an orchard in springtime.
And in the early dawn, when the sun
bravely struggled through the gray
wall of mist, his long crimson arm
swept way through to the realm of
day. And 1 remember also the gold
and purple and rose-colored sky,
where on the far-off horizon bloomed
vast cloud fields of lavender, whose
perfume never descended to delight
the sense of smell.
In autumn, when the golden air
seems to dream, and at even to softly
sleep upon the colored couch of earth,
what pleasure it was for me to
watch the blue mist over the wales,
and the glowing orange sky beyond.
The white smoke from chimneys
would curl and float away to some
cloud that awaited to fold it in its
embrace and ere the day departed to
the rosy halls of the west, the far
away lights along the road would
sparkle and gleam upon the waving
curtains of clouds. Then as the day
waned and died a wild rose flush
NoM as FEaer R6 hse HsStfBa ara
clasps hands with the somber- featured
night watch the last faint glow in
the sky, where star looks through
with bright glances. One by one the
sentinels of the sky take their posts
in the far away fields of blue and sig
nal the earth that God is keeping
watch over all. The winds stir the
plumcd branches overhead and seem
to whisper peace to the warriors that
sleep beneath the flower. carpeted cor
ridors of the groves.
In the far. past years your groves
were the dwelling places of the red
man, and the waters of the lake were
dotted with the birch canoes that
bounded across their sun-fashed sur
face. Then in the woods could be
seen the wigwams and other para
phernalia of an Indian camp. Crave
looking braves and bright eyed boys
and girls wandered about your hill
sides, and fshed in your streams.
Now the bright eyes are but ashes,
and the fires OF their camps are forever
put out. Softly they sleep, their
dream1ess heads resting upon scented
pillows of earth.
Now I seem to hear once more the
Groom of insects In your fragrant
halls, and then a great silence, as the
winds family sigh over the resting
places of the departed. ere they leave
the place. The silence seems to speak
to my soul, and 1 feel once more its
wondrous spell, as in the days when
strolled through the woodland halls,
and felt that God was near, and about
me were the everlasting arms of His
love.
"Hark, how the sacred calm that breathes
around,
Bids every fierce, tumultuous passion cease.
In still small accents whispering from the
ground.
A grateful earnest of eternal peace.