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TO MY HUSBAND Whose Faith and Whose Courage Transmuted His Vision into Deeds. |
Low on the earth is the skylark's nest,---in the soft herbage, and where the little flowers bloom, where littlest creatures find shelter and voices too low for our ears sing their song of Life. The sound of the dew-drop and the sound of the wind when it sweeps by in a storm; voices from the dust and voices from the sky; all these the skylark hears in his nest and he gives it to us as he mounts and sings in a very ecstasy of joy, the blended voice of the common life that is so lovely,---so lovely that when he has poured it forth in rapture, as he wings and swings in the blue, he goes back like a beam of light to hear again voices he can only hear with heart and ear close to little things. So I bring you the story of the world as we have known it in France during the years of war; heard it from the lowly and the great; heard it from people of many lands; heard it in a little house near to the heart of it all.
The story is a "Hymn of Praise," that Honour and Sacrifice and Love have been tried in the balance and not found wanting. Smiles and Tears have served together and above the din and the strife there is still a song of Heavenly sweetness to be heard. The Voice of the People, God's little children growing toward the perfect day when they will all be God's men and know themselves to be "Brethren" one to another.
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To my friends EVELYN SCHUYLER SCHAEFFER and MARY PERKINS RAYMOND Glencoe, 1924. |
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