The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register., 1824-07-01

1
| What is that which softens the sorrow of
so many inhabitants of this earth, and clsys
the pleasures of others, and makes them i'll
sipid to their taste (which comes upon us,
burthened with the fates of men, aud passes
! by to the judgment throne of heaven, loaded
with their virtues or their crimes ? 1t is
Time which moves steadily and swiftly on
ward, and bears with it all that ever has been
Its power exceeds that of the greatest mon
arch of the earth for what is there it cannot
do, or where is that which can withstand its
power> The oftiest and frmest temple cv-
en- reared by the hand of men, crumbles to
dust as it approaches it, and the fairest flower
that ever shed fragrance in the air, hangs it's
head and withers at its touch.
1t is impossible for men to comprehend it,
for when he attempts to reason on its begin
ming or its end, he finds that his mental facul-
ties are unable to grasp it, and he loses him
selfin the dark mystery that enshrouds it, un-
till he is glad to turn the subject from his
thoughts, and rest them upon the more COM
mon events of tho present or the past.
1t has been the remark of the most learned
OF men, that time is but an island in the vast
and boundless ocean of eternity. An idea of
this kind may be indulged, when it is read in
the pages of pocm--for poetry is mostly a
fiction but l am astonishcd that it should
even be seen on the records of truth--that
1t should be set down among the various pie
ccs of information contained in Philosoph-
cal Treatise. Man cannot yet conceive of
time why then should he meddlc with e.
teinty? The inhabitants of the earth may
sink into the tomb, and change again into
the dust from which they sprung-the earth,
that now moves so regularly in its orbit, may
go-we know not where-and creation itself
may cease to bc--but time will never have
an end--It rolls along, like mighty wave,
with steady and unceasing motion. 1t turns
aside for nothing-it pauses for nothing
but sezes upon every thing it overtakes, and
they arr lost in the deep and impenetrable
darkness which no mortal eye can pierce.
Of what avail is it then, that man, feeble
man, should labour so hard for that wealth
or glory, the one of which, few years may
deprive him of, and the other, in little while,
he may cease to feel.
'if,' says very celebrated and beautiful
writer, such thoughts were always predom-
inant, we should see the absurdity of stretch
ing out our arms to grasp that which we
cannot keep, or of wearing out our lives in
endeavouring to add new turrets to the fabric
of ambition, when the foundation itself is
shaking, and the ground on which it standes
is mouldering away
1t is melancholy reflection, when we see
the vast crowd of human beings moving in
all the beauty of life, that the great Subduer
of all things will soon erase them from the
list of living beings, and overwhclm them in
their glory, in one mighty and indistinct heap
of destruction. The great and the obscure,
the rich men aud the pauper, will all feel
the dreadful influence of his hand-they will
fall silently into decay and be thought of no
more. A great man is like a wave of the
ocean, which for little time raises itself a.
bovc the surface, but sinks again to give
place to another, and is lost amid the tumul-
tuous waters by which it is surrounded.
There are many who, in the beginning of
life, heed not the moments, as they pass
swiftly by them, and who are willing tos spend
them in idlcness and pleasure.-They forget
how precious would be those minutes to the
sinking mariner, when the dark waters seem
closing forever over his head.
Those who have experienced feeling of
this kind, know there is much importance
even in single minute.