"Have love one to another."--_John 13:35_.
"Beloved, if G.o.d so loved us, we ought also to love one another."
--_I John 4:11_.
"Let us love one another: for love is of G.o.d."--_I John 4:7_.
{29} {30}
[Ill.u.s.tration]
THE DIVINE MOTHER AND THE CHILD By Murillo (1618-1682)
Bartolome Esteban Murillo was born at Seville, Spain, January 1, 1618.
Very poor at first, he afterward gained wealth and fame by his masterly work, which made him an artist of the first rank. "The peasant-painter of Spain," as he has been called, was a man of deep religious convictions. "He alone in the seventeenth century kept alive the pure flame of religious fervor which burned within the devout Italians of the early school." His Madonnas are all of an especially sweet and gentle and motherly type.
[End ill.u.s.tration]
{31}
G.o.d me is
My father loves me.
My mother loves me.
G.o.d loves me.
G.o.d is my Father.
G.o.d loves me.
I love G.o.d.
"G.o.d is love."--_I John 4:8_.
"We love him because he first loved us."--_I John 4:19_.
"Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us that we should be called the sons of G.o.d."--_I John 3:1_.
{32}
a gives all have home
I have a home.
I have a father.
I have a mother.
G.o.d gives me my father.
G.o.d gives me my mother.
G.o.d gives me my home.
G.o.d gives me all I have.
"Every good gift, and every perfect gift, is from above and cometh down from the Father."--_James 1:17_.
"Give us this day our daily bread."--_Matt. 6:11_.
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[Ill.u.s.tration]
A QUIET AFTERNOON IN THE UPLAND PASTURES
"Go out in the springtime among the meadows that slope from the sh.o.r.es of the Swiss lakes to the roots of their lower mountains There, mingled with the taller gentians and the white narcissus, the gra.s.s grows deep and free; and as you follow the winding mountain paths, beneath arching boughs, all veiled and dim with blossom--paths that forever droop and rise over the green banks and mounds sweeping down in scented undulation, steep to the blue water, studded here and there with new mown heaps, filling all the air with fainter sweetness,--look up toward the higher hills, where the waves of everlasting green roll into their long inlets among the shadows of the pines: and we may perhaps at last know the meaning of those quiet words of the 147th Psalm, "He maketh gra.s.s to grow upon the mountains.""--_John Ruskin_ [End ill.u.s.tration]
{35}
see the gra.s.s
makes grow green
See the gra.s.s.
I see the gra.s.s.
The gra.s.s grows.
The gra.s.s is green.
I see the green gra.s.s.
G.o.d makes the gra.s.s.
G.o.d makes the gra.s.s grow.
G.o.d makes the green gra.s.s grow.