« ZurückWeiter »
If men dealt less in stocks and lands,
And more in bonds and deeds fraternal, If Love's work had more willing hands
To link the world with the supernal; If men stored up Love's oil and wine And on bruised human hearts would pour it,
If “yours” and “mine
Would once combine,
If more would act the play of Life,
And fewer spoil it in rehearsal;
Till Good became more universal;
If Talent shone
In Truth alone,
If men were wise in little things
Affecting less in all their dealings; If hearts had fewer rusted strings
To isolate their kindred feelings; If men, when Wrong beats down the Right, Would strike together to restore it;
If Right made Might
In every fight,
M. H. COBB.
The Reign of Brotherhood.
One sees already the place which the Fatherhood will have in the new life into which the race in every land is entering. While piety imagined God as the Father of a few and the Judge of the rest, humanity was belittled and Pharisaism reigned; slavery was defended from the Bible, and missions were counted an impertinence. When He is recognized as the universal Father, and the outcasts of Humanity as His prodigal children, every effort of love will be stimulated, and the Kingdom of God will advance by leaps and bounds. As this sublime truth is believed, national animosities, social divisions, religious hatreds and inhuman doctrines will disappear. No class will regard itself as favored; no class will feel itself rejected, for all men everywhere will be embraced in the mission of Jesus and the love of the Father.- JOHN WATSON [Ian MacLaren].
Brotherhood Versus Caste.
There is no caste in blood,
SIR EDWIN ARNOLD.
The Death of Caste.
Even the more sensible Greeks in Athens once had six grades of humanity: Priests, mechanics, shepherds, hunters, plowmen and soldiers. By a fine process of differentiation the early Greeks found a difference between the mechanic and the plowman, and between the farmer and the hunter. In our age and land the mind longed to be released from all this oppressive straightness, and on meeting an Emerson and a Webster it did not wish to be told that they were degraded farmers; that Washington was a low-born surveyor, and Franklin only a low, inky printer. Our Nation came from a desire to escape the oppressive caste of all barbarous times, and to reach and enjoy the broader country into which the Lord seemed willing to lead His children.-Swing.
Is It Worth While?
Is it worth while that we jostle a brother
Bearing his load on the rough road of life?
In blackness of heart—that we war to the knife ?
God pity us all as we jostle each other!
God pardon us all for the triumphs we feel When a fellow goes down 'neath his load on the heather,
Pierced to the heart. Words are keener than steel
And mightier far for woe or for weal. Look at the roses saluting each other!
Look at the herds all at peace on the plain!
Man, and man only, makes war on his brother
And laughs in his heart at his peril and pain,
Were it not well in this brief little journey
On over the isthmus, down into the tide, We give him a fish instead of a serpent, Ere folding the hands to be and abide Forever and aye in dust at his side?
Is it worth while that we battle to humble
Some poor fellow soldier down into the dust?
All of us together, like leaves in a gust,
Do Thou Likewise.
Which of these three, thinkest thou, proved neighbor to him that fell among the robbers? And he said, He that shewed mercy unto him. And Jesus said unto him; Go, and do thou likewise. -ST. LUKE.
Purity of Character.
Over the plum and apricot there may be seen a bloom and beauty more exquisite than the fruit itself—a soft, delicate flush that overspreads its blushing cheek. Now, if you
hand over that, and it is once gone, it is gone forever; for it grows but once. The flower that hangs in the morning, impearled with dew, arrayed with jewels-once shake it so that the beads roll off, and you may sprinkle water over it as you please, yet it can never be made again what it was when the dew fell lightly upon it from Heaven.
On a frosty morning you may see the panes of glass covered with landscapes, mountains, lakes and trees, blended in a beautiful, fantastic picture. Now, lay your
. hand upon the glass, and by the scratch of your fingers, or by the warmth of the palm, all the delicate tracery will be immediately obliterated. So in youth there is a purity of character which, when once touched and defiled, can never be restored- a fringe more delicate than frostwork, and which, when torn and broken, will never be re-embroidered.
A man who has spotted and soiled his garments in youth, though he may seek to make them white again, can never wholly do it, even were he to wash them with his tears. When a young man leaves his father's house, with the blessing of his mother's tears still wet upon his forehead, if he once loses that early purity of character, it is a loss which he can never make whole again. Such