Article July 30, 1904 Issue

From our Exchanges

with contributions from A. H. Strong, John C. Kilgo, Stephen A. Chase

There is a dramatic tendency in all life. Things pile up. Power is accumulated. Behind the mask of things is a world of which we know but little. The stars seem going one way, but the world is going the other. Despots, societies, individuals, dam up the waters of the great deep, and hold back the flood. But it will not last. "I saw the wicked in great power, spreading himself like a tree. But, lo, I sought him, but he could not be found." The winds descend. The flood comes. The fountains of the great deep are broken up. They undo, they overwhelm, they sweep away the refuge of lies, even sleep. For a day or week or year, or ten years, a man may halt the processes of life in himself. He may even seem to turn them back. Prosperity may stifle the inner voice. The lethargy of animalism may benumb his noble faculties. But the Lord cometh like a thief in the night. And in an hour when he thinks not the trumpet of judgment shall sound in his ears, and he shall awaken to torment, to repentance, and to righteousness. And though it that his awakening awakening is to pain and agony of soul, yet it is as one dead who is made alive.

The Universalist Leader.

The idea is far too general, especially among young men, that to be good is to live the life of the frog in his pool,— blinking, sluggish, solemn, and withal croaking, and that the real flavor of life consists in doing something a little off color morally, dashing across the line of rectitude into that dangerous but delicious land of the immoral, where all zest and adventure hide. Of course, thinks the boy coming to a sense of freedom from outside restraint, one need not go so far across the line but that he can get back in time for the last trump; but in order to have a real good time one must not be "too good."

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