a forest of trees, the entire
vegetable growth on the earth, the movement of the planets, to the
growth and involuntary vital operations of our own bodies.

No words can bring so full a realization of the quiet power in the
progress of Nature as will the simple process of following the growth
of a tree in imagination from the working of its sap in the root up to
the tips of the leaves, the blossoms, and the fruit. Or beginning
lower, follow the growth of a blade of grass or a flower, then a tree,
and so on to the movement of the earth, and then of all the planets in
the universe. Let your imagination picture so vividly all natural
movements, little by little, that you seem to be really at one with
each and all. Study the orderly working of your own bodily functions;
and having this clearly in mind, notice where you, in all movements
that are or might be under the control of your will, are disobeying
Nature's laws.

Nature shows us constantly that at the back of every action there
should be a great repose. This holds good from the minutest growth to
the most powerful tornado. It should be so with us not only in the
simple daily duties, but in all things up to the most intense activity
possible to man. And this study and realization of Nature's method
which I am pleading for brings a vivid sense of our own want of repose.
The compensation is fortunately great, or the discouragement might be
more than could be borne. We must appreciate a need to have it
supplied; we must see a mistake in order to shun it.

How can we expect repose of mind when we have not even repose of
muscle? When the most external of the machine is not at our command,
surely the spirit that animates the whole cannot find its highest plane
of action. Or how can we possibly expect to know the repose that should
be at our command for every emergency, or hope to realize the great
repose behind every action, when we have not even learned the repose in
rest?

Think of Nature's resting times, and see how painful would be the
result of a digression.

Our side of the earth never turns suddenly toward the sun at night,
giving us flashes of day in the darkness. When it is night, it is night
steadily, quietly, until the time comes for day. A tree in winter, its
time for rest, never starts out with a little bud here and there, only
to be frost bitten, and so when spring-time comes, to result in an
uneven looking, imperfectly developed tree. It rests entirely i