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قراءة كتاب Life and Literature Over two thousand extracts from ancient and modern writers, and classified in alphabetical order
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
Life and Literature Over two thousand extracts from ancient and modern writers, and classified in alphabetical order
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HIS CREATURES.
The daughter of an army officer, whose life had been spent in the far west, told the following anecdote: "Indians, when they accept Christianity, very often hold its truths with peculiar simplicity.
"There was near our fort an old chief called Tassorah. One day, when I was an impulsive girl, I was in a rage at my pony, and dismounting, beat him severely. The old man stood by, silent for a moment.
"'What words have I heard from Jesus?' he said, sternly. 'If you love not your brother whom you have seen, how can you love God whom you have not seen?'
"'This horse is not my brother!' I said scornfully.
"The old man laid his hand on the brute's head and turned it toward me. The eyes were full of terror.
"'Is not God his creator? Must He not care for him?' he said. 'Not a sparrow falls to the ground without His notice.'
"I never forgot the lesson. It flashed on me then for the first time that the dog that ran beside me, the birds, the very worms were His, and I, too, was one of His great family."
82
Kindness to animals is no unworthy exercise of benevolence. We hold that the life of brutes perishes with their breath, and that they are never to be clothed again with consciousness. The inevitable shortness then of their existence should plead for them touchingly. The insects on the surface of the water, poor ephemeral things, who would needlessly abridge their dancing pleasure of to-day? Such feelings we should have towards the whole animate creation.
83
THE GRACIOUS ANSWER.
(The first half of each stanza should be subdued; the last half confident and full of assurance.)
Is gathering thickly o'er my head, and loud
The thunders roar above me. See, I stand
Like one bewildered! Father, take my hand,
And through the gloom
Lead safely home
Thy child!
The way is dark, my child! But leads to light.
I would not always have thee walk by sight.
My dealings now thou canst not understand.
I meant it so; but I will take thy hand,
And through the gloom
Lead safely home
My child!
The day goes fast, my Father! And the night
Is growing darkly down. My faithless sight
Sees ghostly visions. Fears, a spectral band,
Encompass me. O Father! Take my hand,
And from the night
Lead up to light
Thy child!
The day goes fast, my child! But is the night
Darker to me than Day? In me is light!
Keep close to me, and every spectral band
Of fears shall vanish. I will take thy hand,
And through the night
Lead up to light
My child!
The way is long, my Father! And my soul
Longs for the rest and quiet of the goal;
While yet I journey through this weary land,
Keep me from wandering. Father, take my hand;
Quickly and straight
Lead to Heaven's gate
Thy child!
The way is long, my child! But it shall be
Not one step longer than is best for thee;
And thou shalt know, at last, when thou shalt stand
Safe at the goal, how I did take thy hand,
And quick and straight
Lead to Heaven's gate
My child!
The path is rough, my Father! Many a thorn
Has pierced me; and my weary feet, all torn
And bleeding, mark the way. Yet Thy command
Bids me press forward. Father, take my hand;
Then, safe and blest,
Lead up to rest
Thy child!
The path is rough, my child! But oh! how sweet
Will be the rest, for weary pilgrims meet,
When thou shalt reach the borders of that land
To which I lead thee, as I take thy hand;
And safe and blest
With me shall rest
My child!
The throng is great, my Father! Many a doubt,
And fear and danger, compass me about;
And foes oppress me sore. I can not stand
Or go alone. O Father! take my hand,
And through the throng
Lead safe along
Thy child!
The throng is great, my child! But at thy side
Thy Father walks; then be not terrified,
For I am with thee; will thy foes command
To let thee freely pass;—will take thy hand,
And through the throng
Lead safe along
My child!
The cross is heavy, Father! I have borne
It long, and still do bear it. Let my worn
And fainting spirit rise to that blest land
Where crowns are given. Father, take my hand;
And reaching down
Lead to the crown
Thy child!
The cross is heavy, child! Yet there was One
Who bore a heavier cross for thee; my Son,
My well-beloved. For Him bear thine; and stand
With Him at last; and from thy Father's hand,
Thy cross laid down,
Receive a crown,
My child!
84
Anxiety is the poison of human life.
85
Beware, as long as you live, of judging men by their outward appearance.
86
Appearance—Thou art after all what thou art. Deck thyself in a wig with a thousand locks; ensconce thy legs in buskins an ell high; thou still remainest