Trees that brave storms are not propagated in hothouses!

The staunchest tree is not found in the shelter of the forest, but out in the open where the winds from every quarter beat upon it and bend and twist it until it becomes a giant in stature.

It requires storms to produce the rooting.

Out on the meadow it stands to shelter the herds and flocks. The earth about the tree hardens. The rains do little good, for the water runs off.

But the terrific storm strikes. It twists, turns, wrenches, and at times all but tears it out of its place. If the tree could speak it might bitterly complain.

Should nature listen and cease the storm process?

The storm almost bends the tree double. It is wrath now. What can such seeming cruelty mean? Is that love? But wait!

About the tree the soil is all loosened. Great cracks are opened up way down into the ground. Deep wounds they might appear to the inexperienced. The rain now comes in with its gentle ministry.

The wounds fill up. The moisture reaches away down deep even to the utmost root. The sun again shines. New and vigorous life bursts forth. The roots go deeper and deeper. The branches shoot forth. Now and again one hears something snap and crack like a pistol: it is getting too big for its clothes! It is growing into a giant! It is rooting!

This is the tree from which the mechanic wants his tools made—the tree which the wagon-maker seeks.

When you see a spiritual giant, think of the road over which he has traveled—not the sunny lane where wildflowers ever bloom, but a steep, rocky, narrow pathway where the blasts of hell will almost blow you off your feet, where the sharp rocks cut the feet, where the projecting thorns scratch the brow, and where the venomous serpents hiss on every side.

The Lord provides deep roots when there are to be wide-spreading branches.

God of the gallant trees Give to us fortitude: Give as Thou givest to these, Valorous hardihood.

We are the trees of Thy planting, O God, We are the trees of Thy wood.

Now let the life-sap run Clean through our every vein, Perfect what Thou hast begun, God of the sun and rain.

Thou who dost measure the weight of wind, Fit us for stress and strain!

A. W. C.

Blessed be storms!

I will be as the dew unto Israel: he shall grow as the lily, and cast forth his roots as Lebanon.

His branches shall spread, and his beauty shalt be as the olive tree, and his smell as Lebanon.

Blessed is the man that trusteth in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord is.

For he shall be as a tree planted by the waters, and that spreadeth out her roots by the river, and shall not see when heat cometh, but her leaf shall be green; and shall not be careful in the year of drought, neither shall cease from yielding fruit.

I the Lord have brought down the high tree, have exalted the low tree, have dried up the green tree, and have made the dry tree to flourish.

The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree: he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon.

Those that be planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God.

They shall still bring forth fruit in old age; they shall be fat and flourishing.