It is the mystery of the
meeting horizons,--the visible beauty seeking to lose and find
itself in the Invisible.
In returning to my daily toil among workmates from the hill-
country, the scenery to which they belonged became also a part of
my life. They brought the mountains with them, a new background
and a new hope. We shared an uneven path and homely occupations;
but above us hung glorious summits never wholly out of sight.
Every blossom and every dewdrop at our feet was touched with some
tint of that far-off splendor, and every pebble by the wayside
was a messenger from the peak that our feet would stand upon by
and by.
The true climber knows the delight of trusting his path, of
following it without seeing a step before him, or a glimpse of
blue sky above him, sometimes only knowing that it is the right
path because it is the only one, and because it leads upward.
This our daily duty was to us. Though we did not always know it,
the faithful plodder was sure to win the heights. Unconsciously
we learned the lesson that only by humble Doing can any of us win
the lofty possibilities of Being.
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