His pale face was upturned to the
sky, and the rain shaken free from the cloudy skirts of the retiring
storm, was falling upon it. I continued to gaze upon the force of
the prostrate man, until there came into it a flush of life. Then
his limbs quivered; he threw his arms about. A groan issued from his
constricted chest. In a little while, he arose.
"Which is best? Which is most to be loved and admired?" said the old
Man. "The wild, fierce, brilliant tempest, or the quiet rain that
restores the image of life and beauty which the tempest has
destroyed? See! The gentle breezes are beginning to move over the
fields, and, hand in hand with the uplifting sunlight, to raise the
rain that has been trodden beneath the crushing heel of the tempest,
whose false sublimity you so much admired. There is nothing
startling and brilliant in this work; but it is a good and a great
work, and it will go on silently and efficiently until not a trace
of the desolating storm can be found. In the still atmosphere,
unseen, but all-potent, lies a power ever busy in the work of
creating and restoring; or, in other words, in the commonplace work
of doing good.
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