Her 1ife, which had been a series of pious works, had cloaked her in a kind of transparent whiteness. And in growing old she had acquired a kind of beauty of goodness. What had been thinness in her youth, was in her maturity a transparency, and this ethereal quality permitted glimmers of the angel dancing within.
softly in the whispering of the wind ...
sweetly in the melodies of the songbird ...
peacefully in the rustling of the leaves ... and,
lovingly in ways that touch your heart.
In the country it seems as if every tree said to me "Holy! Holy!"
Who can give complete expression to the ecstasy of the woods!
O, the sweet stillness of the woods!
