A great teacher of England, passing through a hospital, stopt beside a little wan-faced crippled boy, who was dying. The handsomest man in England stooped to that little stranger, saying, "My boy, God loves you." An hour later, the little cripple, in a wonder of happiness, called one nurse after another to his side, exclaiming, "He said, 'God loves me!'" and with smiles wreathing his face, the dying boy repeated the magic word. But to go toward the god of nature is to lie down in a bed of nettles. Nature exhibits God as a purple earthquake. Going toward nature is going toward a sheaf of red-hot swords. Man subdues nature's fire and wind and water, and makes them serve. Back of these rude physical forces that are to help man's body stands the infinite Father. Man's body, on a snowy day, needs a blazing fire on the hearth, and man's heart needs God's love, that redeems, guides, and forever saves.---N. D. Hillis.
