Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer's year. It brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul.
... the same hand that made trees and fields and flowers, the seas and hills, the clouds and sky, has been making a home for us called heaven.
There is not a flower that opens, not a seed that falls into the ground, and not an ear of wheat that nods on the end of its stalk in the wind that does not preach and proclaim the greatness and the mercy of God to the whole world.
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