Article January 24, 1931 Issue

Lessons from the Trees

EZRA W. PALMER

Christ Jesus was a student of nature. His sermons, drawn from the things of nature, are the most beautiful in literature; the winds, the trees, the lilies of the field, the birds of the air—all furnished him with themes for thought. So, too, we can study nature and learn new lessons of God's beauty and power. Our beloved Leader, Mary Baker Eddy, in her poem entitled "The Oak on the Mountain's Summit" (Miscellaneous Writings, p. 392; Poems, p. 20) tells us that she loved "the Hebrew figure of a tree," and throughout her writings we find many evidences that she turned to nature to learn new lessons of God and His universe. In her book "The First Church of Christ, Scientist, and Miscellany" (p. 129) she writes, "The oracular skies, the verdant earth—bird, brook, blossom, breeze, and balm—are richly fraught with divine reflection."

The writer of the first psalm had probably spent much time among the hills of Judea. He undoubtedly was a close student of nature, and noted a feature frequently seen in our own deserts. He noted that sometimes a tree remained green and flourishing in the summer time, despite the drought and heat of the dry climate of Palestine. Should we travel across the desert of our western states we should doubtless sometimes see a tree or group of trees, fringing some watercourse, green, fresh, flourishing, the leaves rustling in the breeze—a pleasing picture in the heat and drought of midsummer. Beneath its refreshing shade the patient cattle lie, and in its spreading branches the birds find refuge and home. What is the secret of the freshness and vigor of the tree when all about it are desolation and inaction? Why has the grass withered? Why are the shrubs inactive and apparently dead, while this tree is flourishing? The secret is well known to all who are familiar with the western plains: the roots of the tree penetrate the dry soil, reaching to the water beneath. Because it has this secret supply of water it bravely and smilingly meets the summer's heat and drought, undaunted and prosperous.

The Psalmist doubtless noted similar facts, and as he pondered them he noted the parallel to the career of the righteous man. The righteous man does not wither in the blasts of every hot wind of error that blows. He withstands the heat of hate. He drinks from the living water of life of which Jesus spoke to the woman of Samaria. He continues to prosper. As the green tree in the desert gladdens the eye of the weary traveler and assures him that close at hand are shade and, possibly, drink, so the righteous man is strong, deeply rooted in righteousness, and, as Isaiah declared of the Godlike man, he is "as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land." His strength sustains the weak and weary along dark and difficult paths. His ability to meet and master adversity encourages and inspires all who seek his aid.

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