Nature vicarye of the Almighty Lord.

Nature vicarye of the Almighty Lord.

Life has loveliness to sell, all beautiful and splendid things, blue waves whitened on a cliff, soaring fire that sways read more

Life has loveliness to sell, all beautiful and splendid things, blue waves whitened on a cliff, soaring fire that sways and sings, and children's faces looking up, holding wonder like a cup.

I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting station, through which God speaks to us every hour, if read more

I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting station, through which God speaks to us every hour, if we will only tune in.

Keep your love of nature, for that is the true way to understand art more and more.

Keep your love of nature, for that is the true way to understand art more and more.

Choose only one master - Nature.

Choose only one master - Nature.

By reading the scriptures I am so renewed that all nature seems renewed around me and with me. The sky read more

By reading the scriptures I am so renewed that all nature seems renewed around me and with me. The sky seems to be a pure, a cooler blue, the trees a deeper green. The whole world is charged with the glory of God and I feel fire and music under my feet.

In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they're still read more

In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they're still beautiful.

All finite things reveal infinitude: The mountain withi its singular bright shade Like the blue shine on freshly frozen snow, read more

All finite things reveal infinitude: The mountain withi its singular bright shade Like the blue shine on freshly frozen snow, The after-light upon ice-burdened pines; Odor of basswood upon a mountain slope, A scene beloved of bees; Silence of water above a sunken tree: The pure serene of memory of one man,-- A ripple widening from a single stone Winding around the waters of the world.

At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
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At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill
And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove.