plexion of the inner world, even here. There are times when a dismal pall seems spread over all creation; when all around us seems like a desert; when the sweetest flowers are undelightful, and the laughter of children has no music to our ears, and the faces of dearest friends no beauty to our eyes;—times when the loveliest scenes in nature—the brightest sunshine and the verdant earth—have for us no cheerful smile, but rather an indignant frown. And are not these the times when the heart is cold and desolate and sad? when darkness and gloom brood over our inner world? But when the sunshine returns to the soul, when the heart glows with affection, and hope is bright and buoyant, and the world within us becomes lighted up with a sweet and serene joy, how changed is the aspect of the world without! Nature no longer mourns or frowns, but greets us everywhere with benignant smiles. The very air seems balmy, as if laden with the perfume of flowers. The faces of friends beam with unwonted lustre. There is music in the rain's dull drizzle, and in the wind's low sigh. The aspect of the whole outward world is changed, and that which seemed so sombre and frowning but a little while ago, is now radiant with beauty and with smiles.
Such is the controling, power which our inner or subjective exerts over our outer or objective world, even here on earth. Such the manifest tendency of the soul to stamp its own moods or complexion on all its surroundings;—to color and shape the outward in complete correspondence with itself. Men of the deepest insight have ever seen and acknowledged this law. It is well expressed by one of our own poets, who sings:
