CLAIM, GOD’S
When the late Earl Cairns was a little boy he heard three words which made a memorable impression upon him, “God claims you.” Then came the question, “What am I going to do with the claim?” He answered, “I will own it, and give myself to God.” He went home and told his mother, “God claims me.” At school and college his motto was, “God claims me.” As a member of Parliament, and ultimately as lord chancellor, it was still, “God claims me.” When he was appointed lord chancellor he was teacher of a large Bible class, and his minister, thinking that now he would not have time to devote to that purpose, said to him, “I suppose you will now require to give up your class?” “No,” was the reply, “I will not; God claims me.” (Text.)
(465)
Clamor versus Balance—See [Confidence].
CLASSICS, STUDY OF
If I could have my way, every young man who is going to be a newspaper man, and who is not absolutely rebellious against it, should learn Greek and Latin after the good old fashion. I had rather take a young fellow who knows the Ajax of Sophocles, and who has read Tacitus, and can scan every ode of Horace; I would rather take him to report a prize-fight or a spelling-match, for instance, than to take one who has never had those advantages.—Charles A. Dana.
(466)
CLEANLINESS
At Minot’s Ledge lighthouse all “bright work” must be cleaned every morning—lens, lamps, etc. So also all inside copper pots and tin-pans. The inspector comes every three months unannounced, and is handed by the keeper a white linen towel or napkin, and he goes over these bright things. Then he enters the item in his diary: “Service napkin not soiled.”
A man should live such a cleanly moral life that nothing around him can suffer pollution as he uses it. (Text.)