The young shoots burst out at once, and very
soon all along the ridges were to be seen rows of
tender blades, tinting the whole field with a
delicate green. And day by day the Master of the
Harvest saw them, and was satisfied, but he
spoke of other things and forgot to rejoice.
Then a murmur rose among the corn-blades.
``The Master was angry because we did not come
up; now that we have come forth why is he not
glad? Are we not doing our best? From morning
and evening dews, from the glow of the sun,
from the juices of the earth, from the freshening
breezes, even from clouds and rain, are we not
taking food and strength, warmth and life? Why
does he not rejoice?''
And when the Master's wife asked him if the
wheat was doing well he answered, ``Fairly well,''
and nothing more.
But the wife opened her Book, and wrote again
on the flyleaf: ``Who hath divided a watercourse
for the overflowing of waters, or a way for the
lightning of thunder, to cause it to rain on the
earth where no man is, on the wilderness wherein
there is no man, to satisfy the desolate and waste
ground, and to cause the bud of the tender herb
to spring forth? For He maketh small the drops
of water; they pour down rain according to the
vapor thereof, which the clouds do drop and distil
upon man abundantly. Also can any understand
the spreadings of the clouds, or the noise of his
tabernacle?''
Very peaceful were the next few weeks.
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