heaven. Yet a man may sit by his little lamp and forget the sun and stars. (Text.)
(1852)
<poem>
LIGHT THAT CHEERS
The Rev. C. A. S. Dwight says:
"During a damp, foggy evening along the
New England shore, a summer resident who
had been skirting the beach in a row-boat,
was struggling at the oars, trying to drive
his litle craft through the waters despite the
drag upon it of a heavy object towing on
behind. It was a dismal evening, and he was
tired and weary of his attempted task. But
just when his depression was greatest he
heard the voice of his little boy hailing him
from the beach. Looking through the gloom
he could discern the faint glow on the shore,
while his boy called encouragingly, 'Papa,
I'll cheer you with this lantern!' The heart
of the father was gladdened, and his work
after that seemed light, for so great is the
power of loving sympathy that it illumines
all shadows and lightens all tasks.
"I'll cheer you with this lantern!" We
all of us hold in our hands some instrument
of blessing, whether it be a lantern or not,
by the use of which, if we are alert to note
the changing necessities of those about us,
we can every now and then cast a gladdening
or directing ray over life's dark waters, or
extend some other "help in time of need"
to a troubled brother." (Text.)
<poem>
(1853)
<poem>
LIKENESS OF GOD
King Edward of England was driving
along a country road in Scotland one day
when he overtook an old market-woman
struggling under a load which was more than
she could well manage. "You might take
part of this in your carriage," she cried to
the King whom she did not recognize.
"Alas! my good woman," replied his Majesty
with royal courtesy, "I'm very sorry, but
I'm not going the same way. However, let
me give you the portrait of my mother."
"A lot of good that will do me," said the
woman testily. "Take it all the same," said
the King, smiling, and he put a sovereign,
bearing Queen Victoria's effigy, in the palm
of the astonished old peasant.
That is exactly what every kind deed
or generous gift is, a likeness of our
Father. It is just like Him.
<poem>
(1854)
<poem>
Likeness to Christ—See Future Life.
LIMITATION OF THE SENSES
Reasoning from the analogy of stretched
strings and membranes, and of air vibrating
in tubes, etc., we are justified in concluding
that the smaller the drum or the tube the
higher will be the note it produces when
agitated, and the smaller and the more rapid
the aerial wave to which it will respond.
The drums of insect ears, and the tubes, etc.,
connected with them, are so minute that
their world of sounds probably begins where
ours ceases; that the sound which appears
to us as continuous is to them a series of
separated blows, just as vibrations of ten
or twelve per second appear to us. We begin
to hear such vibrations as continuous sounds
when they amount to about thirty per second.
The insect's continuous sound probably begins
beyond three thousand. The bluebottle
fly may thus enjoy a whole world of exquisite
music of which we know nothing.
(Text.) W. Mattieu Williams, "Science
in Short Chapters."
<poem>
(1855)
LIMITATIONS GLORIFIED
We are apt to chafe at restrictions of all
kinds, but these may be disguised blessings.
Oftener the narrower the outward sphere,
the more valuable the outcome. The lenses
of a telescope are narrow, but through them
we read the story of the stars. Darwin in
the earthworm saw wonders which he spent
several years in investigating. The wise
botanist does not gather all the flowers in the
garden at once; he confines himself to single
specimens. One of Murillo's finest pictures
is in the Louvre at Paris. It shows us the
interior of a convent kitchen; but doing
the work there are not mortals in old dresses,
but angels, white-winged and beautiful. One
serenely puts the kettle on the fire to boil,
and one is lifting up a pail of water with
heavenly grace, and one is at the kitchen
dresser reaching up for plates. As the
painter puts it, all on the canvas are so
busy, and working with such a will, and so
refining the work as they do it, that somehow
you forget that pans are pans and pots
are pots, and only think of the angels, and
how very natural and beautiful kitchen work
is—just what the angels would do.
(1856)
Lincoln and Children—See Children, Lincoln's Regard for.
Lincoln Story—See Good for Evil.
Lincoln's First Dollar—See Money, Earning.
