LIFE, USES OF
In this world we have but brief glimpses of the best and brightest things. Sunset splendors linger but a little while; spring blossoms are scattered by the winds while we watch their unfolding; and autumn leaves soon fade and fall and dissolve into forest mold; the dull landscape glows for a time with supernal splendor, giving us a foretaste of the glory that shall be revealed; the wind passes over it and it is gone. For the leaves there are other and higher uses than to enrobe the branches with autumnal tints. They live and die to serve God in the mysterious economy of life. It is so with human destiny; our noblest achievements seem to perish in a day, but no life of faithful service can be lost in the consummation of God’s plan.—The Living Church.
(1818)
LIFE AS AN ART
These verses are from a poem by John Kendrick Bangs in The Century:
He’d never heard of Phidias,
He’d never heard of Byron;
His tastes were not fastidious,
His soul was not aspirin’:
But he could tell you what the birds were whisp’ring in the trees,