The Sacred Grove

The Sacred Grove By Charles F. Steele

(An extract from the writer's diary, entered in May, 1919.) A life-long hope was realized this morning when, in com- pany with adorable little Palmyra, tiny hostess of the old Smith homestead, I found myself nearing the Sacred Grove. It was the Sabbath. Stillness reigned over the countryside. The fog, which had hung low during my journey from Rochester, had lifted, revealing the full brightness of the sun. The fields and woodlands were flooded with the welcome warmth, the blades of grass sparkled like living gems. The birds piped melody from tree to tree. In the distance, the red roofs and steeples of Pal- myra arose. And yonder, is it not the village graveyard? The white stones mark the resting-places of simple folk who in the flesh gazed in derision at the Grove. The Sacred Grove is not unlike the other groves in this particular neighborhood. And yet, to me there is a difference, as there is in the Sacred Hill, a few miles to the south. As one draws near he instinctively feels the spirit of the holy spot. He treads more lightly, fearful that the snapping of a twig may break the spell. The head is bared as memory of the wondrous story fills the mind. "This is the Grove," said Palmyra, simply, divining my desire to be undisturbed in my devotions. We entered together, soon reaching the heart of the wood. "This is where little Joseph prayed," said Palmyra softly, pointing to a particular tree which tradition says marks the spot where a child's faith moved the heavens and called to earth the Father and the Son. In silence I meditated, and in overflowing gratitude my soul teemed with rejoicing unto the Most High. Such joy I never felt before: as, if this mute earth could speak would it not confirm the visions moving in grand succession before my eyes? Sacred Grove, I pray thee, speak. Tell me the story from thy very lips. Speak to this generation. Are all these glories true? Breathless, I waited for the answer, my heart thrilled with heavenly emotions. In a moment the answer came to my soul, soft yet vivid as the music of the leaves