the crown of thorns-第7部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


houghts；do　we　think　of　it？　　Do　we　perceive　how　nearly　we　approach　a　goal　which　a　little　while　ago　seemed　far　before　us？　　Do　we　observe　how　quickly　we　shoot　by　it？　　Do　we　mark　with　what　increasing　swiftness　the　line　of　our　life　seems　reeling　off；　and　how　close　we　are　coming　to　the　end？　　Time　never　stops！　　Each　tick　of　the　clock　echoes　our　advancing　footsteps。　　The　shadow　of　the　dial　falls　upon　it　a　shorter　and　shorter　tract；　which　we　have　yet　to　pass　over。　　Even　if　a　long　life　lies　before　us；　let　us　consider　that　thirty…five　years　is　high　noon　with　us；the　meridian　of　that　arc　which　comprehends　but　threescore　years　and　ten！

But　we　may　be　more　vividly　impressed　with　the　fact　of　the　brevity　of　life；　if　we　adopt　some　criterion　wider　than　these　familiar　measurements。　　The　narrative；　the　story；　engages　our　ears；　in　the　pauses　of　care　and　labor。　　We　listen　to　it　in　the　noonday　rest；　and　around　the　evening　fire。　　It　is　a　slight　break　in　the　monotony　of　our　business；an　interlude　in　the　solemn　march　of　life。　　And　thus；　in　some　respects；　is　life　itself。　　It　is　so；　if　we　take　into　view　a　long　series　of　existence；　such　as　the　succession　of　human　generations；　or；　still　more；　the　periods　of　creative　development；　and　the　computations　of　time　as　applied　to　the　forms　and　changes　of　the　material　universe。　　In　this　vast　train　of　being；　our　individual　existence；　however　important　to　ourselves；　is　but　an　interlude…a　tale。　　Let　us；　then；　for　a　while；　lay　aside　any　conventional　method　of　estimating　our　life；a　method　in　which　that　life　fills　a　large　space；　simply　because　it　is　brought　near　to　the　eye；　and　let　us　endeavor　to　take　a　view　of　it；　as　it　were；　from　the　fixed　stars；　or　from　the　elevation　of　the　immortal　state。

Compare；　then；　if　you　will；　this　life　of　yours　or　mine；　not　with　the　personal　standard　of　threescore　years　and　ten；　but　with　the　whole　course　of　human　history；　and　instantly　we　appear　but　as　bubbles　in　the　stream　of　ages。　　But；　again；　consider　how　history　itself　is　as　〃a　tale　that　is　told；〃　and　then；　indeed；　what　a　mere　incident　in　it　all　is　your　life　and　mine！　　If　we　stand　off　at　the　distance　of　a　few　centuries；　so　that　we　have　no　present　interest　in　them；　it　is　strange　how　the　proudest　empires　assume　an　empty　and　spectral　aspect。　Their　growth　and　decline　occupied　ages；　but　what　a　brief　achievement　it　appears　now！　　Why　puzzle　ourselves　about　their　origin；　or　seek　to　disengage　the　true　from　the　fabulous　in　their　history？　　Why　strain　laboriously　to　settle　names；　and　dates；　and　dynasties？　　What　mere　point　they　have　occupied　in　the　processes　of　the　great　universe！　　Their　hieroglyphic　pillars；　their　gray　old　pyramids；what　are　they　to　the　age　of　Uranus；　or　the　new　planet？　　Each　of　these　empires　fulfilled　its　mission；　and　relatively　that　mission　was　a　great　one；　but　in　the　long　sweep　of　God's　providence；　and　among　the　phenomena　of　absolute　being；　what　a　brief　link；　a　subordinate　climax；　it　was！　　The　huge　ribs　of　the　earth；　and　the　coral　islands　of　the　sea　were　longer　in　building；　and　even　these　are　transitory　manifestations　of　God's　purposes；　which　stream　around　us　through　constant　change　and　succession。　　And　what；　then；　are　these　nations…these　epochs　of　humanity…but　waves　rising　and　breaking　on　the　great　sea　of　eternity？　　Mysterious　Egypt；　haughty　Assyria；　glorious　Greece；　kingly　Rome；how　spectral　they　have　become。　　They　stand　out　in　no　relief。　　As　we　recede　from　them；　they　sink　back；　flat　and　inanimate　on　the　horizon。　　Each　is　a　tale　that　has　been　told。　　Surely；　then；　if　such　is　the　life　of　nations；　I　need　not　labor　to　impress　upon　you　a　sense　of　the　brevity　of　our　individual　existence。

But；　for　a　moment；　turn　your　thoughts　to　estimates　that　far　exceed　the　periods　of　history；　and　confound　all　our　ordinary　measurements。　　What　is　our　mortal　existence；　into　which　we　crowd　so　much　interest；over　the　anticipated　length　of　which　we　slumber；into　whose　uncertain　future　we　project　our　lithe　plans　so　confidently；compared　to　the　age　of　the　heavens；　the　lifetime　of　worlds？compared　to　their　march；　from　the　moment　when　they　obeyed　the　creative　fiat　to　that　when　they　shall　complete　their　great　cycle？　　It　takes　three　years　for　light　to　travel　from　the　nearest　fixed　star　to　the　earth；　from　another　it　takes　twelve　years；　while；　on　its　journey　from　a　star　of　the　twelfth　magnitude；　twenty　four　billions　of　miles　away；　it　consumes　four　thousand　years。　　And　yet　we　speak　of　long　life！　　Why；　when　the　light　that　wraps　us　now　shall　be　changed　for　the　light　that　is　just　leaping　from　that　distant　star；　where　in　the　gray　bosom　of　the　past　shall　we　be？　　Sunken；　forgotten；　crumbled　to　imperceptible　atoms；　the　ashes　of　generations…the　dust　of　empires…heaped　over　us！　　And　when　we　compare　those　wide　estimates　to　that　divine　eternity　that　evolves　and　limits　all　things；　how　does　our　individual　existence　on　the　earth　dwindle　and　vanish！a　heart…throb　in　the　pulses　of　the　universal　life；a　quivering　leaf　in　the　forest　of　being；〃a　tale　that　is　told〃！

And　yet；　my　friends；　our　realization　of　existence　is　so　intense；the　horizon　of　the　present　shuts　us　in　so　completely；that　it　really　requires　an　effort　for　us　to　pause　and　remember　that　we　are　such　transitory　beings。　　It　cannot　be　（we　may　unconsciously　reason）；　that　we　to　whom　this　earth　is　bound　with　ligaments　so　intimate　and　strong；　whose　breathing　and　motion…whose　contact　and　action　here…are　such　realities；　whose　ears　hear　these　varying　sounds　of　life；　whose　eyes　drink　in　this　perpetual　and　changing　beauty；　to　whom　business；　study；　friendship；　pleasure；　domestic　relations；　are　such　fresh　and　constant　facts；　to　whom　the　dawn　and　the　twilight；　the　nightly　slumber　and　the　daily　meal；　are　such　regular　experiences；　to　whom　our　possessions；　our　houses；　lands；　goods；　money；　are　such　substantial　things；it　cannot　be　that　we　are　not　fixed　permanently　here；that　the　years　like　a　swift　river；　sweep　us　nearer　and　nearer　to　a　point　where　we　must　sink　and　leave　it　all；that　the　corridors　of　the　earth　echo　our　footsteps　only　as　the　footsteps　of　a　successive　march…myriads　going　before；　and　myriads　coming　after　us…and　soon　they　will　catch　no　more　murmurs　of　our　individual　life；　for　that　will　be　as　〃a　tale　that　is　told。〃

The　whole　train　of　thought　I　am　now　pursuing　strikes　us　with　peculiar　force；　in　reading　the　biographies　of　men　who　have　lived　intensely；　who　have　realized　the　fulness　of　life；　who　have　mingled　intimately　with　its　varied　experiences；　and　occupied　a　large　place　in　it。　　We　see　how　to　them　life　was；　as　it　is　to　us；　an　absorbing　fact；how　they　have　planned；　and　thought；　and　acted；　as　though　they　were　to　live　forever；　and　yet　we　have　noticed　the　premonitions　of　change；　the　dropping　away　of　friends；　the　failing　of　vigor；　the　deepening　of　melancholy　shadows；　and　the　coming　of　the　end；　the　business　closed；　the　active　curiosity　and　intermeddling　ceased；　the　familiar　haunts　abandoned；　the　home　made　desolate；　the　lights　put　out；　the　cup　fallen　beneath　the　festal　board；　and　all　the　earnest　existence　stopped　forever。　And　this；　too；　so　quick；filling　so　small　a　space　in　absolute　time！　　From　their　illustration　let　us；　then；　realize　that　our　life；　too；　amid　all　these　real　conditions；　is　unfolding　rapidly　to　an　end；　and　is　〃as　a　tale　that　is　told。〃

But　life　is　like　a　tale　that　is　told；　because　of　its　comprehensiveness。　　It　is　a　common　characteristic　of　a　narrative　that　it　contains　a　great　deal　in　a　small　compass。　It　includes　many　years；　and　expresses　many　results。　Sometimes　it　sweeps　over　different　lands；　and　exhibits　the　peculiarities　of　various　personages。　　In　one　word；　it　is　characterized　by　comprehensiveness。　　And　this；　I　repeat；　is　also　a　characteristic　of　human　life。　　When　the　consideration　of　the　brevity　of　our　mortal　existence　excites　us　to　diligence　it　is　well；　but　when　we　make　it　an　argument　for　indolence；　disgust；　and　despair；　we　should　be　reminded　of　the　fact　I　am　now　endeavoring　to　illustrate；the　fact　that　even　the　briefest　life　contains　a　great　deal；　and　means　a　great　deal；　and　that；　if　we　estimate　things　by　a　spiritual　standard；　a　man's　earthly　being　may　contain　more　than　all　the　cycles　of　the　material　world。　　From　the　best　point　of　view；　life　is　not　merely　a　term　of　years　and　a　span　of　action；　it　is　a　force；　a　current　and　depth　of　being。　　Indeed；　considered　in　its　most　literal　sense；　as　the　vital　spark　of　our　animal　organism；　it　is　something　more　than　a　measurement　of　time；　it　is　a　mysterious；　informing　essence。　　No　man　has　yet　been　able　to　tell　us　what　it　is；　where　it　resides；　or　how　it　acts。　We　only　know　that　when　we　gaze　upon　the　features　of　the　dead　we　see　there　the　same　organs　that　pertained　to　the　living；　but　something　has　gone；something　of　light；　power；　motion；　and　that　something　we　call　life。

But　it　is　chiefly　in　a　moral　sense　that　I　make　the　remark　that　life　is　something　more　than　a　term　of　years　or　a　span　of　action。　　In　fact；　life　is　a　sum　of　spiritual　experiences；　and　thus　one　act；　or　result；　often　contains　more　than　a　century　of　time。　　Who　does　not　understand　the　fact　to　which　I　now　refer？　　Who　has　not　felt　something　of　it？　　Has　not　each　one　of　us；　at　times；　realized　that　he　lived　a　year　in　a　single　day；in　a　moment；in　an　emotion　or　thought？　　Nay；　could　that　experience　be　measured　by　any　estimate　of　time？　　And　if　we　should