smelling balsam, strong, resinous and fragrant.
'Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name.'"

Then the birches said:

"Thy evening brightness illumines the heavens, O Lord! and in Thy
splendors our small leaves golden are and burning. Now with our golden
leaves we sing to Thee, O Lord, and our delicate twigs play as the
strings of the harp, O good Father of ours!"

Again the sorrowing cypress said:

"Upon our sad foreheads, exhausted with the heat, softly falls the
evening dew. Praise be to Thee, O Lord; brothers and sisters rejoice,
because there falls the cooling dew."

Amid this chorus of trees the aspen alone trembles and is afraid; for
it gave the wood for the Cross of the Saviour of the world; at times
it faintly groans:

"O Lord, have mercy upon me. Have mercy upon me, O Lord."

Again, sometimes, when the oaks and pines cease for a moment, there
rises from under their feet a faint, modest voice, low as the murmur
of insects, silent as silence itself, which says:

"A small berry am I, O Lord, and hidden in the moss. But Thou wilt
hear, discern and love me; though small, devout am I, and sing Thy
glory."

Thus every evening prays the forest, and these orchestral sounds rise
at every sunset from earth to heaven--and float high, high, reaching
where there is no creature, where there is nothing only the silvery
dust and the milky way of the stars, and above the stars--God.

At this moment the sun hides his radiant head in the far-distant seas;
the farmer turns upward his plowshares and hastens to his cottage.
From the pastures return the bellowing herds; the sheep raise clouds
of the golden dust. The twilight falls; in the village creek the well
sweeps; later the windows shine, and from the distance comes the
barking of the dogs.

The sun had not gone beyond the woods when Kasya had seated herself
under the mossy stone to weave her garlands. Its rays were thrown upon
her face, broken by the shadows of the leaves and twigs. The work did
not proceed rapidly, for Kasya was tired from heat and running in the
woods. Her sunburnt hands moved slowly at her work. The warm breeze
kissed her temples and face, and the voices of the forest lulled her
to sleep. Her large eyes became heavy and drowsy; her eyelashes began
to close slowly; she leaned her head against the stone, opened her
eyes once more as a child looking upon the divine beauty of the world;
then the noise of the trees, the rows of the stumps