Questions & Answers
The path of duty is the way to glory; He that walks it, only thirsting For the right, and learns to deaden Love of self, before his journey closes, He shall find the stubborn thistle bursting Into glossy purples, which outredden All voluptuous garden-roses: Shall find the toppling crags of duty, scaled, Are close upon the shining table-lands To which our God Himself is morn and sun. Tennyson.
Christian ! how charming the name ! How tender, how sweet and sublime ! Rejoicing all those who would gain In knowledge and wisdom divine. Sincerely and truly must all Truth's bright, shining pathway pursue Into the pure haven of rest.
When he frowns his mother cries : " Clouds to-day and gloomy skies!" When his tears fall soft and fast, " Summer showers that will not last. " When he romps in noisy play.
There lived a liar once who planned To crush the truth, and silence one Who dwelt within a far-off land; And marred his purpose, fearing none, And hoped to smite; him by the hand Of others, and to hold his own. So, in a lordly tone, he wrote To one—a better man, I wis— Whose work it was, he said, to note And punish madmen like to this (Wellnigh his very words I quote) ; And wherefore had he been remiss? But this man proved a poor ally, And read the letter to his foe— A mail commissioned from on high To raise aloft and lay alow— Who straightway made a stern reply, And doomed him to a double woe.
" For whatsoever through Love's eye we see, Or through Love's ear we hear, or in Love's heart Conceive or purpose, whether in thought or act, Endures, and is imperishable and true, Growing within us, toward that greater self Which lives and is Eternal as the Heavens. All else is but the shadow of a shade, A smoke when the fire dies—a thing of nought.
God loves us though none else should love, In spite of all our wrong; His hand of blessing touches us, His goodness makes us strong ; His pity is so wonderful, His tenderness so beautiful, That as we lift our eyes to His, And understand what Jesus is, Our hearts are full of song. Not for our love the father loves ; Not for our faithfulness, Does Jesus hold us in His heart, To pity and to bless; The love lasts on, for God is love, No change can touch that life above, Which is our life through trustful faith— God's love is good for life and death, He cannot love us less.
" Forbid them not," said the Master "But let them come unto Me. " And so they clustered around him.
Over and over again, No matter which way I turn, I always find in the Book of Life Some lesson I have to learn. I must take my turn at the mill, I must grind out the golden grain ; I must work at my task with a resolute will Over and over again.
"De memoires de Roses on n'a point vu mourir le Jardinier. " The Rose in the garden slipped her bud, And she laughed in the pride of her youthful blood, As she thought of the Gardener standing by— "He is old—so old ! And he soon will die!" The full Rose waxed in the warm June air, And she spread, and spread, till her heart lay bare; And she laughed once more as she heard his tread— "He is older now.
Just a saunter in the twilight, Just a whisper in the hall, Just a sail on sea or river, Just a dance at rout or ball, Just a glance that hearts enthral— This is all—and this is all. Just a few harsh words of doubting.