DEEP, DEEP IN THE HEART SOMETHING STIRRED

DEEP in the heart of the forest - snugly buried beneath the warm earth and leaves - lay an hyacinth bulb. In the heart of it, it dreamed of a beautiful pink flower - so full of perfume that it filled the whole woods. It dreamed of a very blue sky and tall, black trunks of trees with their great swaying branches - but still it dreamed on - because this was not possible to My Lady Hyacinth - since she lay buried deep in the earth which was covered with a heavy layer of leaves and snow - but, anyway, she dreamed it - it was her secret. She did not tell anybody else, because it was too sacred - and because she had no words to express that secret, had she wanted to talk about it - but one thing she knew, and that was that it was there.

Deep in the heart of man lies buried the same secret - he feels a Godlike something imaging itself in his thought - he thinks also of lofty hills and blue skies, and he dreams of untrammeled walks, through green pastures and besides still waters - but it, too, is buried deep in an earth of material reasoning and thinking, and over this is a thousand and one mortal laws and human opinions which even freeze the ground tighter about him. And he, too, tells his secret to no one - because it is so sacred - and also because he has no words to express it - and then, too, because no one would understand it. But within, his heart sings to him, and sometimes it almost pleads openly to be expressed.

And in the heart of the pale blue egg that lay in the robin's nest a whole world was mirrored - but it was bound by an ugly hard shell that it could never break - its thrilling dream of flight through the air with its throat swelling with glorious music was also the secret that it kept - the secret of expressing itself.

But anon - deep in the heart of the hyacinth something stirred - it was a queer sort of feeling - half disturbing, half joyous - almost as if something was pushing it out of its warm white bed. Yes, that was what was happening, and the hyacinth thrilled with joy - but presently it was confronted by the dark earth which said to it, "You can never force your way through all this - you will die in the struggle; and, besides, when you do peep through, the frost will freeze you, and you'll wish you had stayed where you belonged." But something had stirred in the hyacinth - and just as she was about ready to turn back and give up, this something said, "Keep going - the way will open." And so the hyacinth abandoned herself to this inner voice, and her dream came true.

And so with the little blue egg - something stirred - but the shell said, "You cannot get out of this condition; I have bound you fast - you cannot break through this wall of prejudice and heredity." But something had stirred, and the little bird kept growing until he had almost filled the shell, and then he thought - and feared and wondered. "To-morrow I shall completely fill the shell - then what will happen? I cannot get out; to-morrow will be the end of it all." To-morrow was a black and awful affair to the little bird who had almost used up his supply - who had come to the limits of his present condition. He could not see any further than the narrow boundary of his shell, and he had completely forgotten to look within, and by looking within see the way out of the whole situation; so he settled down to worry, often looking at the tiny mite of room he had left to grow in - and which he was constantly using up. He wished he could stop growing; he wanted to save the room. He could not see that by using up all he had he would burst its narrow limitations and have all the room that there was in the world. But presently in his dire distress he turned to the "still, small voice" within and heard the words, "Take no thought for the morrow. Now is the time. Live to the fullest extent now, if it be to the last sou you posses, use all that you have which you find necessary to use - and see what happens." So the little bird also with an abandon grew to the limit of the shells' capacity, and then the narrow walls began to crack and give way. A powerful light began to penetrate the shell - and again a wild fear took possession of him. He was loosing his protection - his present home was being broken up - he was being cast into a strange world; and another panic ensued. Fearful images of what might happen if he dared to leave his present hedged-in thinking. He kept his eyes closed fixed on the outer condition, and they certainly looked as nothing other than chaos and decay. But the happy inner voice said to him, "Judge not from appearances - get a look at the power back of all this change; keep praising its wonderfulness, because all power is good, and only good can result from any change when you declare that the power of good is at work accomplishing whereunto it was sent." So the little bird felt a happy, contented feeling that the whole matter was in the hands of this power, and that, whatever came, it must be good for him, because there was but one power, and that one Good. And at last the shell gave way, and his dream was realized. Had he one regret that he had declared the truth about there being but one Power, and that one Good? Had he one faint longing to return to the narrow confines of his former abode? Had he one fear that he could not meet the issues as they came to him if he listened to the "still, small voice" within? No; not one. He lay there snuggled up under the wings of Love - oh, so happy, so warm; and as he lay there he listened to the singing of the heart of Love. It was a silent song, not herd with ears, but infinitely sweeter. It was the great heart of Love that sing s a constant symphony of harmony and love to the listening ear. It was the great unselfish and impartial parent love which breathed forth in holiness, "Our Father which art in heaven." It was the joy of being in His presence and feeling his tender care and relationship that wove itself into the song which the little bird heard, but which the noisy world missed.

And so within the heart of man - something stirred, but he, too, was afraid to listen. His family said it was imagination; his friends laughed at it; material laws held up its hands and said, "Impossible - idealistic and absurd." And the poor fluttering hopes of man fell into despair and bondage. But the heart of him sung on, "You are free born - you are the son of a king." "Speak as one having authority." "Ask and ye shall receive" - and little by little the man began to listen to this inner voice. He used the "manna" of that day without fear that the inexhaustible source would be cut off, without trying to hoard up enough for to-morrow; and presently the shackles dropped from him and he walked Free - a son of the King.

So, dear one who has heard this story, if a condition presents itself to you that you do not understand - and which seems like chaos or fear - just turn within and declare that the power operating within you can only be good, since all power is good; and judge not from appearances, no matter how contrary to good they seem. The very worst condition that may present itself to you may only be the power of good pushing you from the shell of limited thinking, and preparing you to enter a greater sense of Heaven.

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