The poet who sang, "How beautiful to a mother is the face of her own child!" reduced to epigram the philosophy of time and eternity.
The heights and breadths of Love are here fully and forever expressed, for whether it be the unselfish love of devoted human motherhood, or the supreme impartial Love of our Mother-God for Her Child, the Universe, including man, there can be nothing more beautiful to that Mother-Love than the face of her own child.
And what of the love this Child bears the Mother? Above and beyond all human ability to express is the swift coexistent adoration and confidence of the idea for the Mind that conceived, created, and poised it in Eternal Good; and as consciousness realizes its own sinlessness, man finds that he looks not up from the dust, a helpless enigma, to a more helpless and enigmatical God, but that he radiates forth a light from the Light of Lights into Love's infinite activities and relationships.
