CHAPTER XX.
THE ROOTS OF THE HILLS.
In the poems of James Thomson, we find two hymns to the God of Creation--one in blank verse, the other in stanzas.

They are of the kind which from him we should look for.

The one in blank verse, which is as an epilogue to his great poem, _The Seasons_, I prefer.
We owe much to Thomson.

Born (in Scotland) in the year 1700, he is the leading priest in a solemn procession to find God--not in the laws by which he has ordered his creation, but in the beauty which is the outcome of those laws.

I do not say there is much of the relation of man to nature in his writing; but thitherward it tends.