They do me wrong who say I come no more,
When once I knock and fail to find you in;
For every day I stand outside your door,
And bid you wake to ride, to fight, and win.
Wail not for precious chances passed away,
Weep not for golden ages on the wane!
Each night I burn the records of the day,
At sunrise every soul is born again.
Laugh like a boy at splendors that have sped,
To vanished joys be blind and deaf and dumb;
My judgment seal the dead past with its dead,
But never bind a moment yet to come.
Tho deep in mire, wring not your hands and weep:
I lend my arm to all who say, “I can!”
No shamefaced outcast ever sank so deep,
But yet might rise and be again a man.
Dost thou behold thy lost youth all aghast?
Dost reel from righteous retribution’s blow?
Then turn from blotted archives of the past,
And find the future’s pages white as snow.
Art thou a mourner? Rouse thee from thy spell!
Art thou a sinner? Sins may be forgiven.
Each morning gives thee wings to flee from hell,
Each night a star to guide thy feet to heaven.
(2254)
* * * * *
The importance of seizing opportunities as they pass by is realized by
astronomers who study the sun’s corona:
The study of the corona of the sun is limited to the few brief
moments of total solar eclipse; to some five or six minutes
every few years. For this purpose expeditions are fitted out and
sent to the most favorable locations; and the astro-physicist
utilizes every moment of totality in obtaining photographs and
spectographs for measurements and study.--CHARLES LANE
POOR, “The Solar System.”
(2255)
* * * * *
Howard B. Gross, pleading for better conditions for the “submerged”
classes, says:
The other day, after Easter, I took a lily which I had bought
for my wife--it had withered and grown yellow--I took the ugly
thing and threw it into the back yard, and as I threw it the pot
broke, and I saw a thousand little rootlets beating against the
pot, hungry for air and moisture, and I planted that ugly thing
in the soft and tender soil, where the morning sun could smile
upon it, and the noonday sun not smite it, and the fairest thing
which ever grew in the garden grew out of that despised and
dried thing which had no chance to grow. All these people need
is the full, free, fair chance that we have had.
(2256)
* * * * *
Single acts and moments are fraught with destiny.
Esau filled his life with regret for trifling one day; Esther’s
was full of glory for one day’s courage. Peter slept one hour
and lost a matchless opportunity; Mary’s name is fragrant
forever for the loving deed of a day. Do your best now.
(Text.)--MALTBIE BABCOCK.
(2257)
* * * * *
Some men make their opportunities.
Less than sixteen years ago a clergyman was called to two
New York parishes. One was thriving, the other was standing
still, the duty of existence growing heavier with each year of
inactivity. He chose the latter church, because, as he said,
“there was more work to do.” At that time his congregation
was never large and bad weather often made it very small. It
had a Sunday-school of less than fifty members and the Sunday
services were practically the end of the week’s labor. People
were moving rapidly farther uptown; the churches were going with
them, and St. Bartholomew’s, at that time one of the smaller
Episcopal parishes, while it was stubbornly holding its place,
was gradually weakening. And so it was, comparatively inactive,
half forsaken, when Dr. Greer came to it.
Dr. Greer left St. Bartholomew’s recently perhaps the most
powerful single Protestant organization in the world, a church
that spends more than two hundred thousand dollars a year, the
old edifice remodeled and crowded to the doors of a Sunday
morning, a parish house in the midst of the maelstrom of
East Side life; six Sunday-schools aggregating two thousand
members, two in English, one in Armenian, one in Chinese,
one in German, one in Swedish; industrial schools, clubs, an
employment bureau that obtains positions for one hundred people
a week, a clinic that cares for one hundred and fifty people a
day, a boarding-house for girls, and many other important cogs
in an immense and constantly active machine of religious and
philanthropic endeavor. It was built up piece by piece, getting
greater support as it proved itself, just as any factory or
business grows. (Text.)--ARTHUR GOODRICH, _Leslie’s
Monthly_.
(2258)
* * * * *
There is an Indian legend of a good spirit who, wishing to
benefit a young princess, led her into a ripe and golden
corn-field. “See these ears of corn, my daughter; if thou wilt
pluck them diligently, they will turn to precious jewels; the
richer the ear of corn, the brighter the gem. But thou mayest
only once pass through this corn-field, and canst not return the
same way.” The maiden gladly accepted the offer. As she went on,
many ripe and full ears of corn she found in her path, but she
did not pluck them, always hoping to find better ones farther
on. But presently the stems grew thinner, the ears poorer, with
scarcely any grains of wheat on them; further on they were
blighted, and she did not think them worth picking. Sorrowfully
she stood at the end of the field, for she could not go back
the same way, regretting the loss of the golden ears she had
overlooked and lost.
To each of us are golden opportunities offered; life speeds on to the
goal from which there is no return; let us redeem the time, for fields
are white to harvest.--_Illustrated Missionary News._
(2259)
=Opportunity, American=--See AMERICAN OPPORTUNITY.
=Opportunity, Business=--See BUSINESS CHANCES.