The Cadiz sentinel. [volume] (Cadiz, Ohio) 184?-1851, 1844-07-03
SHORT PATENT SERMON.
Those are the words of my text for this occasion
IUUOH US SVHIIY IHIU-
Let us glide adown thy stream
Gently-as we sometime glide
Through quiet dream!


Gently-as we sometime glide
Through quiet dream
My hearers--you may travel all over the world,
land at the same time you are doing nothing but
going through the world. This you know, as
we'll as |, is sometimes hard digging; but a little
pushing, perseverance, and the sweet oil Of hope,
|generally overcome all dihicultes.-No matter
where we seek repose in this jostling world,
Time will keep stirring us up with sticks and po-
king sraws at U.s. Poets talk about time fit
ting by, with siIken wing andrustling sound, and
feet that gently fall on flowers; but for my part
| think he comes tlamp.ng along with the big
Igest kind OF boots, crushing at every tread some
Of ug, poor insects, into tho dust Of death, and
most horribly mangling others.
My frends-if prayers would avail any thing,
it would be our daily petition that Time would
touch us gontly--that we might be permitted to
Igfde down the stream Of lite as gontly as we
sometimes glide through pleasant dloam. Life
after all, is little more than dream. We reyel
amid imaginary poasure-grunt and groan be-
meath tancICd ilIs-haye now and then a touch
Of the Northumberland are occasionally delight
led with the deCcitlul visions Of bliss | some
times doubt whether really live and move and
have being, or am laboring under pleasant de-
Iusion-whelh her, as the transcendenalist would
say there Is an actuality aflinated with an ideal
and calnasious existence. But what's the odds
allow me to ask, 50 long as we are happy?
My dear fIiends--as for asking Time to touch
Jus gently, we might rs we'll request a thunder
bolt to descend without noise, in consequence
of family sickness. While time handles us ten
Iderly-Nisses and Caresses us, as it were, with
parental afieCtiOn--Waters and nourshes europe
Ining buds Of delight--dlls our bosoms with boz
quets of hopes loyliost Aowers-allows neither
care, trouble nor sorrow to torment us-and with
a wary wing, seems careful not to brush parti-
Gle oi youthful bloom from our cheeks But, my
dearly beloved brethren, when few years have
rolled away, VIC feel that time drives us in his
old wagon along rougher roads than we have
been accustomed to travel, and at a much swift
er pace that he is sowing salt in the once
green pastures of our hearts---that be is strew-
ing thorns and thistles where sweetest of roses
once bloomed--and that he is robbng us of
Ijoys which the world can never again bestow.
When we look in the glass and find fuuows
Ipoughcd in our faces, wrinkles upon our brows,
and whole handluls of hair torn from our top
knots, we cannot but come TO the conclusion
| that Time has handled us roughly; and enter
taining this idea, we are not quite 50 much mis-
taken as was the somnambulist, who imagined
that moonboam had set his shrt-tail a-frc.
My worthy hoarers--let Time use you as he
may, you ought all TO prepare for the dread cr-
sis that awaits you. Commence to-day, for you
are not sure of living any decent length of time.
Nay, tomorrow you may be cold tallow, done
up in the rag and laid aside. Even you, little
babies you admired specimens Of domestic man
uiacture you juvenile joys ofmilk! You may
spring leak in less than week, and let fc's
contents soak into the earth; and where will you
| be, ask, unless your parents possess sufficient
piety 10 offer up sufficient prayers in your be-
| half? And you older ones! the hoops may fly
off from your barrels before you are aware of it,
allowing all the vital brine TO escape, and leave
you tainting in the moulding sepulchre. Time,
the old man-mower is in the midst Of us all
whetting his scythe for the next fatal stroke. |
know not the victim soon 10 fall before his keen
edged bushwhacker, OF would point him out.
Perhaps it is myself; for | feel that am almost
gone to seed, and am half ripe for the harvest;
but certain it is that some one must shortly 60
for on every side we constantly behold, in the
great family of mankind, many falling into dust
to rise no more. Oh! it is a melancholy sight TO
see so many of our friends annually dropping,
like leaves and tendrils from the trees, TO be
trod upon by the careless feet of posterity, and
have the ploughs of generations intemngle their
sacred ashes with the vile earth that nourishes
potatoes, pumpkins, turnips and toad stools! II
is mournful to reflect upon tho frailty Of human
existence; and sadder still 10 think that the beau