place. It grows in the face of danger. But how? Day after day, as it
fights its way in the air and sunshine, blest or bruised as it may be,
the little plant never fails to keep at one thing. That is, to get a
firmer and firmer hold. From that it never lets go. Break its leaves
and its stem, crush it as you will, stop its upward growth even, but
as long as there is a spark of life in it there will be more roots
made. It aims from the first moment of its life to get hold strongly.

And it seems as if the plant has always a great motive. The moment it
feels it has grasped the mother-earth securely with its roots it turns
its strength to making something beautiful. In the air and light, in
the dark earth even, every part of the plant is seeking for the means
to do a wonderful thing. It drinks in the sunshine, and with the
warmth of it, _and to the glory of its own life_, it blossoms. It has
come from a tiny helpless seed to a living plantlet with the smallest
stem and root, and while the stem fights for a place in the air the
root never ceases to get a strong hold of the dear earth in which the
plant finds its home. Then when the home is firmly secured and the
days have made the plant stronger and more shapely, it forgets all the
rude winds and rain and the drifting leaves, and shows how joyful it
is to live _by giving something_.

Then it is clear that every hardship had its purpose. The rains beat
it down, but at the same time they were feeding it; the leaves dropped
about and covered it, but that protected its tenderness: and thus in
all the trials it finds a blessing. Its growth is stronger, and
thankful for all its life it seeks to express this thankfulness. In
its heart there is something it is sure. And true enough, out it comes
some day in a flower with its color and tenderness and perfume; all
from the earth, but taken from it by love which the plant feels for