138 THE KNIGHT, THE HERMIT,

 

covered in the cool air. “The stars are
moving in their courses; the trees are
spreading forth their branches and rising to
heaven; and the stream flows on to the
ocean; but I, superior to all these—lI,
gifted with a will, an understanding, and
active energies—am doing no work! ‘ Well
done, good and faithful servant. Those
blessed words cannot be said of me.”
‘Morning came, and the hermit. saw the
bee at its labour, the bird building its nest,
and the worm spinning its silken thread.
“And is there no work for me, the
noblest of all created things?” said he.
The hermit knelt in prayer, but found
no utterance. Where was his work? He
had none to bring but evil work. He had
harmed his fellow men—but where was
the good he had done? Prayers and peni-
tential deeds wiped away no tear from
the eye of sorrow—fed not the hungry—
' clothed not the naked.
“De Montfort !—it is vain! there must
be charity as well as piety !”