As in the blade of grass and in the smallest herb, the first years of our globe gave signs of the coming tree; as in the first drops of rain there was the promise of a coming ocean; as in the little garden of Eden there lay the prophecy of future homes, so the earliest instincts and affections of animal life were advance heralds of a profound devotion destined to appear in the form of a mother's love. Each wild beast which to the death would defend its young, each bird that screamed and fluttered when an enemy approached its nest, said in distinct accents that Nature was preparing the way for that sublime sentiment‚ human love. No wonder, then, that when writers, sacred or profane, have desired to convey some adequate notion of the love of God for His universe, they have always asked us to look upon a mother and her child. In that love we find all the heights and depths of sentiment, and when we have compared God to a loving mother, we can say no more‚ our richest emblem is then exhausted. By Professor Swing.
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