Editorial October 10, 1903 Issue

The Passing Leaf

The splendor of New England's wooded hills, these autumn days, leads one to wonder if the Aurora of the north-land has not escaped the meshes of the night and drifted into milder climes, that our summer might vanish in a dream of color; and in its profusion, its variety, and its delicacy of tints, the fleeting vision has surely brought to all who, having eyes, see, suggestions of that unfading beauty which pertains to the manifestations of Spirit.

Material sense may seem to veil and obscure the glory of these manifestations, but it cannot mar or restrain them, for the clouds of this mortality are being shot through and through by that revealed and revealing word which will ultimately dispel them all and usher in the perfect day.

There are those to whom the varied aspects of nature make strong and immediate appeal, who are gladdened and helped in some degree by companionship with the fields and the flowers, the wild birds and the sky,—and yet who see in all but the expressions of an unthinking, unfeeling force. In all their getting, these "nature-lovers" have no found the true riches. They have ascended Nebo, but they have not seen "the Promised Land."

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