“All Thy works shall praise Thee, O Lord, and Thy saints shall bless Thee." — (Psalm 104:10.)
WE shall hardly expect to gather flowers this bright January morning, and it is too early in the year for us to learn much about the secrets of “Birdland,"as the work of building or repairing nests has not yet begun; but our walk through the wood need not be a dull or uninteresting one. When quite a child I remember reading a story in which I was greatly interested; it was called “Eyes and No Eyes." It was about two boys who went for a walk. Like ourselves, they had chosen a winter's morning. Both took the same walk, but the report they gave was totally different. When the first, whose name I forget, so will call him Harry, returned, he was cold, cross and discontented. He had seen nothing, observed nothing; said there was nothing worth looking at, and wondered that anyone not really obliged to go out should care to do so on such a day.
A little later, his brother Bertie, entered the schoolroom; glowing with exercise, and looking very bright and happy. He had had a lovely walk. The untrodden snow was so purely white, and the ice candles that hung from the boughs of many of the trees glittered and sparkled in the sunshine till they looked almost like diamonds. More than once a wild rabbit had crossed his path, and he had watched with great interest, the odd ways of a flock of lapwings.
We shall all, I feel sure, agree that the boy who used his eyes was by far the wiser and happier of the two, but before starting our rambles in woods and fields, I should like to remind my young friends, that it is only believers, those who know the Lord Jesus as their own trusted Savior, who can, in the best and highest way, admire and enjoy the wonderful works of God in Creation. Many years ago, a great traveler, Mungo Park, was crossing a desert in Africa. By some means he had become separated from the caravan with which he traveled. Parched with thirst, and overcome with weariness, he lay down, alone and friendless, he thought to die; but, at that moment his eye rested upon a tiny clump of moss, green, fresh and beautiful. It was God's little messenger to that lonely man. As he looked at it, the thought came, “If God takes care of that tiny moss, and keeps it alive in this sandy desert, He is surely able to take care of me." With fresh hope and courage he got up, and before very long found some of his friends. And to-day, flowers and plants are doing just the same kind of work.
A Scripture-reader called upon a poor woman who rented one small room in a dull, crowded court in one of the poorest parts of East London. She was a widow, and very, very poor. Her room contained very little except a broken table, one or two chairs, and an apology for a bed; but on the narrow window-sill, a strawberry plant grew and flourished in an old, cracked flower-pot. As the visitor noticed its bright green leaves, and white blossoms, he said: "Your plant thrives well here, you will soon have ripe strawberries." “I don't keep it for its fruit," was her reply. "Why do you keep it at all then?" she was asked. “Just to keep me in mind of the Goodness of God. I am too poor to keep even a bird, or a cat, but I know my little plant could not live if He did not send the sunshine, and give me the sense to give it a little water from time to time; and every day, as I look at it, it helps me to trust Him to take care of me.”
Several of the houses we passed on our way to the wood looked bright and cheery with the yellow flowers of the Cape, or winter jessamine; always a welcome sight. I do not know exactly what it means in the language of flowers, but, to me, its message always seems to be, “Have Faith in God.”
The trees are leafless, but the holly, with its bright green leaves and red berries, is a pleasant sight, and numbers of wild birds are feeding, though most of them fly off at our approach. Hark! there is the well-known chirp of the Robin. One of the best-known of British birds, and his half-shy, half-saucy ways of making himself at home near our houses, and in our gardens, have made him many friends. It is not quite easy to say where we should be most likely to find a robin's nest, as, while it sometimes builds quite near the ground, it is more often in a hole in some wall, or tree, or it may choose a low bush or hedge, while ivy, growing against a wall, is a favorite nesting-place. Sometimes a robin's nest is found in a box, or flowerpot, and now and then, when it has learned to know and trust its friends, it will even venture to build inside the house. The nest is nearly always built of dead leaves, with mosses and fine stems of plants woven in, and inlaid with wool, hair and some feathers. The eggs vary greatly in color, as sometimes they are pure white, at others tinged with pale gray or green, they are frequently spotted or speckled with pale red; they are usually five or six in number. Robins begin to build early in the year, and two or three broods are hatched and reared during the season.
Early in the year as it is, in some sheltered corner of the wood we are almost sure to find a few leaf buds. Gather the largest you can find; open the outer covering very carefully, and you will be able to notice how wonderfully the little leaflet is folded within; not crumpled, but folded, in some kinds, doubled over, in others, neatly wrapped round each other. Try to unfold without breaking it. It will need a very gentle hand, and light touch. But how fresh, and green, and beautiful it will look. Lay it upon a piece of white blotting paper, place one or two thicknesses of blotting paper over it, put it into a book, and place a weight upon it, when it is dry you will have a leaf, that the sun never shone upon, that never felt the cold breath of the winter's wind; and, as you look at it, you may, perhaps, be reminded of some little child you have known and loved, early taken by the Lord Jesus, our Good Great Shepherd, to be with Himself, where He is.
"Forbid them not,' the words were spoken
On the far-off Judæan shore;
But the echo of their music
Fills the ages evermore.
They are going, little children,
Going where the Master calls;
Where no stain of sin can enter,
Where the shadow never falls.
They are coming, once our children,
In the triumph of the King,
He must bring the sleeping with Him,
Ere His Kingdom's joys begin.