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This life is the bud of eternity.
You have seen the tiny blossoms of the fruit trees opening in early spring. After basking a few days in the sun it fades and falls. A germ is left behind on the branch, but it is scarcely discernible among the leaves. It is a green speck that can hardly be felt between your fingers. If a hungry man should pluck and eat it, the morsel would not satisfy; the germ as to present use is a sapless, tasteless nothing. Grasped now as your object and end, it is the most worthless of all things, but left and cherished as the germ of fruit, it is the most precious.
This life is the bud of eternity; if plucked and used as the portion of the soul, that soul will be empty now and empty forever. But while thus abused it is worthless rightly used it is beyond all price. Here is generated, cherished, ripened, the life that will never die. -- William Arnot.
By J. Wilbur Chapan, "Present Day Parables."
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