Who is the man who knows the flower? Is it he who plucks, and dissects, and classifies? or he who, seeing the blossom floating on the summer air, glistening in the sunlight, feels a tender, thrilling recognition of that beauty, which is the good gift of a good and loving God? And who is the man who knows a word? "Why it lies there on the paper,—a mere word. " You have spoken it a thousand times.
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