But perhaps it is more correct to say that in the presence of music the provisional distinction between inward and outward, between the soul and the surrounding world, becomes wholly effaced.
Expression is always the counterpart of perception; and we may rest assured that the deep, subtle, and elusive feelings to which music gives utterance have reality for their counterpart.

The musician does not often reproduce in his compositions the audible sounds of the outward world,--the voices of animals, the songs of birds, the rustle of leaves, the murmur of the sea, the sighing of the breeze, the thunder of the storm.

What he does reproduce is the music that awakes in his soul when the emotions which these sounds kindle begin to struggle for expression,--the music that is behind all the audible sounds, and perhaps also behind all the inaudible vibrations of Nature,--the music that is in his heart because it is also at the heart of Nature,--_the rhythm of the Universe_, as one may perhaps call it for lack of a fitter phrase.

It is the sense of this rhythm which inspires the great Composer when he builds up his masterpieces.
It is the sense of this rhythm which inspires the child when, in the joy of his heart, he breaks spontaneously into dance and song.

To bring the rhythm of the Universe into the daily life of the child, to give free play to his instinctive sense of its all-pervading presence, is one of the highest functions of the teacher.