So the rivers among the valleys, the murmur of wind-swept hill,
The seas and the bird-thrilled woodlands utter their voices still;
Songs of stars and of waters, echoes of vale and shore—
The voice of primeval nature praising Him evermore.
And the instruments men have fashioned since time and the world were young,
With gifted fingers giving the metal and wood a tongue,
With the human voice translating the soul's wild joy and pain,
Have swelled the undying paean, have raised the immortal strain!
(2429)
Perhaps in nothing connected with religious practise are opportunities more neglected than with regard to the praise of God. Multitudes who receive the bounties of Providence know nothing of the emotion of gratitude, and many awaken too late to a sense of their own ingratitude.
Billy Bray, the Cornish preacher, was a
constant visitor among the sick and dying.
On one occasion he was sitting by the bedside
of a Christian brother who had always
been very reticent and afraid to confess
joyously his faith in Christ. Now, however,
he was filled with gladness. Turning to
Billy, whose beaming face and sunny words
had done much to produce this joy, he said,
"Oh, Mr. Bray, I am so happy that if I had
the power I'd shout 'Glory.'" "Ah, mon,"
said Billy, "what a pity it was thee didn't
shout 'Glory' when thee hadst the power."
(Text.)
(2430)
See Thanksgiving.
PRAISE DEPENDENT ON SUCCESS
Toward the close of his second administration, Grant thus reviewed, in a private conversation with Henry Clay Trumbull, the criticisms of his public career:
I don't wonder that people differ with me,
and that they think I am not doing the best
that could be done. I can understand how
they may blame me for a lack of knowledge
or judgment. But what hurts me is to have
them talk as if I didn't love my country and
wasn't doing the best I knew how. It was
just that way in war-time. I didn't do as
well as might have been done. A great many
times I didn't do as well as I was trying to
do. Often I didn't do as well as I expected
to do. But I had my plans and was trying
to carry them out. They called me "fool"
and "butcher." They said I didn't know anything
and hadn't any plans. But I kept on
and kept on, and by and by Richmond was
taken, and I was at Appomattox Court
House, and then they couldn't find words
enough to praise me. I suppose it will be
so now. In spite of mistakes and failures I
shall keep at it. By and by we'll have specie
payments resumed, reconstruction will be
complete, good feeling will be restored between
North and South; we shall be at Appomattox
again, and then I suppose they'll
praise me.
(2431)
Praise Helpful—See Encouragement.
Praise, Judicious—See Heart-hunger,
Satisfying.
PRAISE, SEEKING
A delicate woman, without children, and
married to a superior but occupied and preoccupied
man, suffered intensely when her
husband neither perceived nor commented
upon a new costume, or upon some ornament
she had added to the drawing-room. Never
a word of praise escaped his lips. One day
she told him the sorrow this caused her.
"But what do you want?" he replied, distrest.
"I don't know how to observe such
things. What must I do?"
The wife reflected a moment, and then the two arranged that when there was anything unusual the wife was to make him a certain sign. His attention called, he would then understand, look, and admire. "And now I am satisfied," she said, a little ashamed of her childishness. "What he says will not be spontaneous, I know, and yet I shall be pleased to hear it; it will brighten my life."
This absurd, and yet touching incident reveals a state of mind that certain natures can not understand, but which is, nevertheless, more common than we think.—Dora Melegari, "Makers of Sorrow and Makers of Joy."
(2432)
