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It was in a little wood in early morning. The sun was climbing up behind a steep cliff on the east, and its light was flooding nearer and nearer and then making pools among the trees. Suddenly, from a dark corner of purple-brown stems and fawny moss, there shone out a great golden star. It was just a dandelion and half withered, but it was full face to the sun, and had caught into its heart all the glory it could hold, and was shining so radiantly that the dew that lay on it still made a perfect aureole round its head.

If the Sun of Righteousness has risen upon our hearts, it will transfigure us like the dandelion.