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Chapter 80 of 93

79. Life and Walk

3 min read · Chapter 80 of 93

Life and Walk HIS LIFE A FAILURE.—A gentleman of high standing, a lawyer, a politician, a man of talents, and, as the world estimates, a man who was successful in all his undertakings, was suddenly arrested by disease, and brought to the close of life. He was asked by a friend how he felt as he looked back upon his past life. “With all its success, I now see and feel that my life has been a failure. I have not gained one of the great ends for which life was given, and now it is too late to gain them.”

LESSON FROM FLIES.—If you will go to the banks of a little stream, and watch the flies that come to bathe in it, you will notice, that, while they plunge their bodies in the water, they keep their wings high out of the water; and, after swimming about a little while, they fly away with their wings unwet through the sunny air. Now, that is a lesson for us. Here we are immersed in the cares and business of the world; but let us keep the wings of our soul, our faith, and our love, out of the world, that, with these unclogged, we may be ready to take our flight to Heaven.

SOLDIER KNOWN BY WALK.—”That man’s been in the army,” said a gentleman to his friend the other day, as a stranger pass-ed them in the street; “I know a soldier by his walk.” Men ought to know Christ’s soldiers by their walk.

SAVED, YET LOST.—In Glasgow a man who was dying cried out, “Lost, lost, lost!” His mother heard him, and asked, “Is it possible that you have lost your faith in God?” “No,” said he; “I have a hope of Heaven, but I have lost my life. I have, lived twenty-four years, and have done nothing for the Lord.”

TESTING SANITY.—It was an ancient custom, when an heir was impleaded as an idiot, to put before him an apple or a piece of gold, and try which he would take; if he took the apple and not the gold, he was cast for a fool, as unable to discern the true worth of things. This is the way with all who prefer trifles to realities.

LIGHT WHERE IT CAN BE SEEN.—On the north coast of Cornwall and Devon is a lighthouse, which was first placed high up upon the cliffs, where the mists and the fogs often obscured and hid its brightness from the passing mariner. So they took it down and built it on the rock out at sea, amid the waves of that dangerous coast, there to shine where it was most necessary. A virtue should shine in cities, not in solitudes. The Christian’s duty is here among men, and the nearer he draws to his fellowmen, so that his Christianity be real and true, the more good he is likely to do them.

LIGHTS DON’T SOUND.—I would not give much for your religion unless it can be seen. Lamps do not talk, but they do shine. A lighthouse sounds no drum, it beats no gong; and yet far over the waters its friendly spark is seen by the mariner. So let your actions shine out your religion. Let the main sermon of your life be illustrated by all your conduct, and it shall not fail to be illustrious.

YOU CAN LET GO.—A soldier was bleeding to death, and he was informed that there was no hope. The verdict was received patiently and courageously, some direction given by which his mother could be informed of his death, and then he asked, “How long can I live?” “Only so long as I keep my finger upon this artery.” A pause ensued. He broke the silence at last, and said: “You may let go.”

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