We only begin to live in any true and satisfactory sense when we have learnt to take each day by itself, and to use it as if it were our last, and indeed as if it were our all; dismissing the thought of to-morrow as a mere phantom which for ever evades our grasp. Life is a mosaic, a large work shaping on the wall or in the dome of some vast cathedral which eye hath not yet seen; and it can only be effectually wrought if, with minute and concentrated care, the little piece of coloured glass which we call To-day is duly fixed into its bedding and fitted exactly to its immediate neighbours. "Why do you work with such intensity?" the great artist was once asked; "Because I work for eternity," was the answer. And that is why each day is of such importance; that is why each day demands all our thought and care: eternity is made up of days, and the present day is all of eternity that we can ever possess. It is well for us then each morning to take the day fresh from God's hands, and at once to throw our whole soul into it, and to live it with a pure intensity, a sense of solemn and joyful responsibility. "Oh, Day, if I squander a wavelet of thee, A mite of my twelve-hours' treasure, The least of thy gazes or glances (Be they grants thou art bound to or gifts above measure), One of thy choices or one of thy chances (Be they tasks God imposed thee or freaks of thy pleasure),-- My Day, if I squander such labour or leisure, Then shame fall on Asolo, mischief on me."[673] But it may be said, Is not this the life of a mere butterfly? Is it not the mark of a prudent man to work with his eye on the future,--"Prepare thy work without, and make it ready for thee in the field, and afterwards build thine house"?[674] Is it not just what we have to complain of in the foolish man that he ignores to-morrow,--"A prudent man seeth the evil and hideth himself, but the simple pass on and suffer for it"?[675]