For, "All flesh is like grass, And all of man's glory like the flower in the grass. The grass withers, and its flower falls;
Perhaps without my endeavoring to enlarge further you could yourselves muse upon this theme. It remains but for me upon this first head to return with earnestness to that point upon which I fear the greatest difficulty lies--the realisation of this birth--for we repeat it, we are speaking of a fact and not a dream, a reality and not metaphor. 