AMONG a row of fine beeches, one tree put out its leaves to the early spring more rapidly than the rest; but the east wind nipped its tender shoots, so that when the other trees were in their first beauty, the earliest was noticeable by its brown and withered leaves.
On a summer day I chanced again to pass under these beeches, and I was arrested by the sight of countless tender shoots shining amidst sere and crumpled leaves; life had asserted itself vigorously in the tree, which the east winds had so sorely cut back, and as the sun glanced through the somber summer leaves of the other trees, it sparkled upon the young buds of their now beautiful companion.
Here, thought I, does nature teach a lesson of grace, for though the first be last, yet the last shall be first. And many a heart that put forth its affections for Christ before its fellows, but was thrown back and swept once more into winter, shall yet be tender for Him when those who grew up under kindlier circumstances have settled down into the somber summer of conventional propriety.
And looking more earnestly upon the strange sight of spring in summer, I learned yet another lesson, for it could not but be observed, that the early withered and crumpled leaves had not been thrown aside by the tree as she cast away in her new year’s strength the dead leaves of the past autumn. Thus, too, is it with him who fails before his Master. The remembrance of the failure remains; not, indeed, to be a weight and weakness, but to remind of self-confidence and self-conceit.