"The garden stands revealed. In ordered beauty live its flowers and trees. The murmur of the bees and insects on their winged flight is heard on every side. The air is rich with perfume. The colors riot to the blue of heaven...

The wind of God, His breath divine, sweeps through the garden... Low lie the flowers. Bending, the trees are [167] devastated by the wind. Destruction of all beauty is followed by the rain. The sky is black. Ruin is seen. Then death...

Later, another garden! but the time seems far away. Call for a gardener. The gardener, the soul, responds. Call for the rain, the wind, the scorching sun. Call for the gardener. Then let the work go on. Ever destruction goes before the rule of beauty. Ruin precedes the real. The garden and the gardener must awake! The work proceeds."