Is it not enough that our
Father's house is so full of dear delights, that we must wander prodigal
to the swine-herd for husks, and to the slough for drink?--when the
trees of God's heritage bend over our head and solicit our hand to pluck
the golden fruitage, must we still go in search of the apples of Sodom,
outside fair and inside ashes.
Men shall crowd to the circus to hear clowns, and see rare feats of
horsemanship; but a bird may poise beneath the very sun, or flying
downward, swoop from the high heaven; then flit with graceful ease
hither and thither, pouring liquid song as if it were a perennial
fountain of sound--no man cares for that.
Upon the stage of life, the vastest tragedies are performing in every
act; nations pitching headlong to their final catastrophe; others,
raising their youthful forms to begin the drama of existence. The world
of society is as full of exciting interest, as nature is full of beauty.
The great dramatic throng of life is bustling along--the wise, the fool,
the clown, the miser, the bereaved, the broken-hearted. Life mingles
before us smiles and tears, sighs and laughter, joy and gloom, as the
spring mingles the winter-storm and summer-sunshine. To this vast
Theatre which God hath builded, where stranger plays are seen than ever
author writ, man seldom cares to come.
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