“Lo! the winter is past; the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land." (Song of {s 22221}Solomon 2:1111For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; (Song of Solomon 2:11))OS 2:11{
LAST month we could only find a few sprays of wallflower, which, as if heedless of cold winds, or chilling frosts, had in some sheltered corner of our gardens, or under a south wall, struggled into bloom; but it is April now, and the pretty, sweet-scented flower seems to blossom everywhere. It grows alike upon the churchyard wall, and in the cottage garden. I have seen it in the early springtime make the crumbling walls of the ruined castle at Hastings a perfect vision of beauty. The castle was built so long ago that if we are curious to know its history we must go back to Saxon times, as it is said to have been standing when the Normans came to England.
Gather a spray, and look closely at its flower-cup. It belongs to a family of flowering plants, which, though not so numerous as the composites, we noticed last month, we shall often find during our summer rambles. The corolla or blossom is formed of four distinct petals; which, as they lie open form a fragrant cross, richly tinted with varying shades of red and yellow. Shall not its form have a voice for us? Yes, surely, if we are “swift to hear," it will remind us of the CROSS of our Lord Jesus Christ. I do not mean only the wooden Cross on which He died, but of the tale of wondrous love that could have been fully told out nowhere else. It speaks of judgment borne, and sin put away forever. It tells of sins forgiven, of peace with God, of everlasting blessing, and coming glory. In the Cross the sinner sees how "God so loved the world." Has it any message for you?
“Inscribed upon the cross we see,
In shining letters, 'GOD IS LOVE';
The Lamb who died upon the tree,
Has brought us mercy from above.”
How many stamens are there? Just six; four short, and two long each with a rather large anther; they surround the pistil in the center, with its little stigma, waiting to receive the golden shower that, when fully ripe, will fall upon it.
I must not forget to tell you that the family to which our little wallflower belongs is called the “Cruciform." For all plants are divided into orders, or families. This family is a very curious one, for it not only includes all flowers that have the corolla, divided into four petals, but also several kinds of vegetables, such as turnips, cabbages, land and water cresses and even sea-kale! How strange! you will say. Yes, but we all know how useful these vegetables are, and, if you look carefully at the blossom of any of these you will see the four petals forming a cross-shaped flower, with its six stamens, and one pistil which, when the pollen has fallen upon it and ripened the seed within, becomes the seed vessel. In some plants the seed-vessel lies below the pistil, but in the crucifous family the pistil itself becomes the seed pod, or pouch.
“Spring! Spring! Beautiful spring,
Hitherward cometh, like hope on the wing—
Raises a chorus of joy in the wood;
Pleasantly looketh on streamlet and flood;
Toucheth the bud and it bursts into bloom,
Biddeth the beautiful rise from the tomb;
Blesseth the heart like a heavenly thing,
Spring! Spring! Beautiful spring!”
The varied colors of the different flowers add greatly to the interest and beauty of our gardens; but it may surprise us to learn that, with very few exceptions, they may be divided into two classes, or, as they are called, series, the yellow and the blue. The dahlia, the tulip and rose all belong to the yellow class, but though, by the skill and care of the gardener, they exhibit almost countless tints of white and red, a yellow flower will, as a rule, refuse to become blue; the common harebell belongs to the blue series, and though, owing to conditions of soil and light, may take a deeper or paler shade, never becomes a yellow flower. Donald reminds us that the pansy is often both a blue and yellow flower. Yes, it is, perhaps, one of the exceptions to the rule, but it still remains to be proved that a yellow petal would ever become blue.
Flowers have a silent yet very precious ministry of their own. Not very long ago I was spending a spring day with a devoted Christian lady, who, though her health is far from strong, finds many open doors for loving, loyal service. When in the garden she said, “I do hope my sweet-peas will do well this year. I am praying about them, asking the Lord to send the sunshine, or the showers, just as He sees best. I do not want them for myself, but for my dear, old people in P—Workhouse. There are over thirty in the ward in which, whenever possible, I spend one afternoon every week; I take a small bunch of flowers for each, and you don't know how pleased they are. They do so enjoy having anything of their own; workhouse life is not all sunshine, and though never really alone, some who have seen better days, make few if any friendships and often seem sad and lonely. A few flowers are not much to give; and yet the tiny bunch of spring blossoms often seems like a key that opens some fast-barred door, for it gives me a golden opportunity of speaking of the Love of God, in the gift of His SON.”
Bird-life is all astir, for many of our British birds build or repair their nests during April, and a few of the earlier birds of passage re-visit our shores, after spending the winter months in warmer lands than ours. Perhaps, of these, the swallow is one of the best-known, and certainly one of the most interesting of our feathered friends. It loves to build near our houses, and its nest which is shallow and open at the top, may often be seen under the over-hanging roof of a stable or barn, or in some sheltered corner near the chimney-tops. The nest is formed of mud or clay, which the birds carry in their bills from the road, or the bank of a river. While damp it is molded into shape, and when dry is quite firm and strong. Inside it is carefully lined with fine grass or straw, over which is placed a soft bed of feathers. Four, five, or sometimes six eggs are laid; they are long and narrow, they are white in color, but spotted all over with gray or brown. Two broods are usually reared during the season; the last being hatched about the end of July; so that all the young birds are fully grown, able to fly, and strong enough for their long flight to Spain or Africa by the end of September.
The swallow is an insect feeder, and feeds on the wing; it can see its prey at some distance, and, darting after it, catches the fly or moth in its long and slender bill; it seldom alights on the ground, and so escapes the snare of the fowler. As I write, a Bible verse seems to be saying itself over and over to me. “Surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird."(Pro. 1:1717Surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird. (Proverbs 1:17)), or, as the margin reads, “in the eyes of anything that hath a wing.”
Have you, dear young believer, found out that you have wings? I do not mean to your body, but to your soul, wings by which, through faith in a Risen, Living Savior, and in the power of the Holy Spirit, you can rise up, above the world, and its poor, quickly-passing pleasures, and enjoy the "unseen things that are, where Christ is now at the Right Hand of God." Satan has many kinds of snares; some are so cleverly hidden that if we begin to seek for pleasure in the world, we are almost sure to get caught in one or other of them. Our only safety is like the swallow, to keep on the wing, and the only way by which we can do so is “Looking unto Jesus."The One Who knows, as none other can, all our weakness, and all our need said, “Without Me ye can do nothing." (John 15:55I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing. (John 15:5).)
Don't try to hide Whose you are, and Whom you serve. A simple, modest confession will honor your Savior and Lord; and if still in dependence upon Himself, you will be better fitted to meet the next testing time.
A young Christian had taken a situation in the showroom of a large drapery establishment, at some distance from London. A few hours after her arrival, the manager said, "To-morrow, Miss M—is our early-closing day; we usually subscribe for the hire of a wagonette, and, if the weather permits, go for some miles into the country, where some hours are very pleasantly spent in dancing under the trees and other amusements. We shall hope to have the pleasure of your company." “Dancing and worldly amusements!" She felt it would be no place for her; but should she have faith and courage to give her real reason for refusing to join the party? In a moment the suggestion came, "Say you have home letters to write, and so cannot accept. Wait till they know you better, before saying why you don't want to go. It will be easier later on." But she knew it was the voice of “a stranger," not that of the Great, Good Shepherd of the Sheep.
Just a moment's pause—her color rose, and her heart beat quickly, but she answered, “I am sure you mean kindly by asking me to be of your party; but I am a child of God. My time belongs to Him, and I do not think I should glorify Him by spending it as you propose.”
Miss M—remained for some years in the same situation. Telling the story afterward, she said, “At first they thought me very strange, and sometimes used to tease me a good deal, but now they are all kind to me, and if any of our young people are in trouble, or have bad news from home, they are sure to come and tell me about it.
The bees are out in quest of honey, and it is pleasant to listen to their low, musical hum.
THE WASP AND THE BEE.
“A wasp and a bee together
Went out on silver wings,
With bodies black and yellow,
And both of them had stings.
Bee flew into a tulip
And sucked its golden cup,
And when her thighs were laden,
Went home to store it up.
Wasp got into a cherry,
And stung a little boy
Who snatched the rosy berry,
And then flew off with joy.
Boys and little maidens,
Be good, and true, and kind;
'Tis better to store up honey
Than to leave a sting behind.”