I could feel the soft airs on my face; I could hear the buzzing of bees in the meadow flowers, and by turning my head just a little I could see the slow fleecy clouds, high up, drifting across the perfect blue of the sky.

And the scent of the fields in spring!--he who has known it, even once, may indeed die happy.
Men worship God in various ways: it seemed to me that Sabbath morning, as I lay quietly there in the warm silence of midday, that I was truly worshipping God.

That Sunday morning everything about me seemed somehow to be a miracle--a miracle gratefully accepted and explainable only by the presence of God.

There was another strange, deep feeling which I had that morning, which I have had a few other times in my life at the rare heights of experience--I hesitate always when I try to put down the deep, deep things of the human heart--a feeling immeasurably real, that if I should turn my head quickly I should indeed SEE that Immanent Presence....
One of the few birds I know that sings through the long midday is the vireo.

The vireo sings when otherwise the woods are still.