noon
Aubrey shook his head gently , but replied not . `` Yes , '' resumed I , after a pause , -- `` yes , it is indeed a glorious and fair world which we have for our inheritance . Look how the sunlight sleeps yonder upon fields covered with golden corn ; and seems , like the divine benevolence of which you spoke , to smile upon the luxuriance which its power created . This carpet at our feet , covered with flowers that breathe , sweet as good deeds , to Heaven ; the stream that breaks through that distant copse , laughing in the light of noon , and sending its voice through the hill and woodland , like a messenger of glad tidings ; the green boughs over our head , vocal with a thousand songs , all inspirations of a joy too exquisite for silence ; the very leaves , which seem to dance and quiver with delight , -- think you , Aubrey , that these are so sullen as not to return thanks for the happiness they imbibe with being : what are those thanks but the incense of their joy ? The flowers send it up to heaven in fragrance ; the air and the wave , in music . Shall the heart of man be the only part of His creation that shall dishonour His worship with lamentation and gloom ? When the inspired writers call upon us to praise our Creator , do they not say to us , -- ` Be / joyful / in your God ? ' ''