looked down upon a verdant valley before them. In the very center a natural lake like a turquoise jewel reflected the azure sky. Mountains covered with great forest trees formed walls on all four sides. Rugged, uncultivated land full of heavy growth, uninhabited hills, a lake with muddy banks, and an almost impassable dirt trail leading to it - this is what the little party of men saw. But vision (sanctified imagination) sees other things. A few weeks later, the same tropical sun was beating down upon a group of men felling trees. The sound of ringing axes and bush knives hacking through heavy underbrush reverberated through the forest. Vision had put on its boots. • • • Today, in the state of Sao Paulo, Brazil, a narrow, mountainous road winds down to a trail which suddenly descends to a delightful valley. In the center lies the jeweled lake, reflecting the sapphire sky, but it is startling to see rows of rustic cabins perched on the hillside, as though dropped from some miraculous parachute. As dawn creeps over these South American hills, tropical birds trill a welcome to the new day. Suddenly music from a loudspeaker peals forth. It drowns the jubilation of the birds. Its message resounds across the lake and to the farthest mountainside:
“Rise, ye sleepers, to the work; Never shall we service shirk.
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