'
But, moreover, he saw everywhere beauty; shapes, and colours, and
sounds, which were beautiful in his eyes, and gave him pleasure deep
and strange, he knew not why: and the Spirit of God within him told
him--'These fair things please thee. Do they not please Him who made
them? He that formed the ear, shall he not hear the song of birds?
He that made the eye, shall he not see the colours of the flowers?
He who made thee to rejoice in the beauty of the earth, shall not he
rejoice in his own works?' And God seemed to him, in his mind's eye,
to delight in his own works, as a painter delights in the picture
which he has drawn, as a gardener delights in the flowers which he
has planted; as a cunning workman delights in the curious machine
which he has invented; as a king delights in the fair parks and
gardens and stately palaces which he has laid out, and builded, and
adorned, for his own pleasure, as well as for the good of his
subjects.
And then, beneath all, and beyond all, there came to him another
question--What is life?
The painter paints his picture, but it has no life. The workman
makes his machine, but, though it moves and works, it has no life.
The gardener,--his flowers have life, but he has not given it to
them; he can only sow the seemingly dead seeds. Who is He that
giveth those seeds a body as it pleases him, and to every seed its
own body, its own growth of leaf, form, and colour? God alone.
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