The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1847-05-08
Moral Readings,
Improvement of Time;
IR, THOUGHTS FOR THE SEASON.


OR, THOUGHTS FOR THE SEASON.
How solemn are the thoughts connected
with the pnssage oftime! We lose much
that is profitable, from our being commonly
20 insensibe TO its lapse. Suppose, for "a mo,
ment il could become visible, or that some
visible object could bring il clearly TO our
sight. Were there, for instance, transpa-
rent vessel containing water, from which one
drop passed aiter,another; and voice from
heaven told us that when the last drop was
gone we should die: should we not sometimes
look with solemn interest on tllnt vessel, and
ponder with salulary emotion the lessenlng
of its contents? Why, then, do we not con-
slider the corresponding reality which actu-
ally exists, though such a mode of bringing il
before us has been denied? The lapse ofev-
cry moment leaves one moment less; the
lapse ofevery year leaves one year lessI-one
year less for the duties of this life one less
tor preparing for another. And yet with
what prodigality have we wasted timer
Wasted time. for which many would have
given worlds, had they possessed them, for
the hours we so wilfnlly throw away. VAST
ing it, when others were devoutly improving
The very moments we lost,fo their own souls
welfare, and for the advantage OF others.
I asked the lad and happy child
Whose hands were filled with flowers,
Whose silv'ry laugh rang free and wild
Among the vne-wreathed bowers;
lcrossed her sunny path and cried,
"When is the time TO die:"
Mot yeti not yeti" the child replied,
And swiftly bounded by.
asked the maiden. Back she threw
The tresses of her hair,
Grief's traces DER her cheeks knew,
Like pearls they gisten there;
A flush passed DER her lily brow,
heard her spirit sigh,
--"Not now" she cried, "Oh no, not now!
Youth is no time 10 die!'
asked a mother as she pressed,
Her frst-born in her arms;
AS gently on her tender breast
She hushed her babes alarms;
In quiverng tone her accents came,
Her eyes were dim with tears;
'--"NIy boy his mothers life must claim
For many, many years"
questioned one in manlIood's prime,
Ofproud and fearless air;
His brow was furrowed not by time,
Nor dimmed by woe and care;
In angry accents he replied,
And flashed with scorn his eve
Talk MOTTO me ofdeath" he cried,
"For only age should die"
questioned age, for whom the tomb
Had long been all prepared;
For death who withers life and bloom,
This man of years had spared.
Once more his natures dying fire
Blazed high, and thus he cried
"Lte only life is my desire"
Then gasped and groaned, and died!
asked n Observation-Disclosures thou
When is the houro death?"
"A holy calm was on his brow,
And peaceful was his breath;
And sweetly DER his features stole
A smile, n light divine;
He spoke the language of his soul
"My Masters time is mine"
Be it ours hencetorth to redeem the time
As our first act, il becomes lis to repair with .
deep humiliation Ofspirit to the throne of
God. entreating pardon for the loss of Oppor-
Iunities never to return, through the Divine
Redeemer who died the just for the unjust,
that he might bringus to God.' And through |
out our future course, be it ours to place on
the days, or hours, or moments that remain |
their real value. Time cannot he counted in
silver, or gold, or gems The earth has no
gauge, weight or balance, to determine its |
worth. 1t must be estimated in connexion |
with our own souls salvation, which can OH
ly take place in this world; aud with the ben |
eft of others, which can only be prompted by |
our efforts on this side of eternity. SO teach |
MS Lord, to number our days, that we may
apply our hearts unto wisdom ofpersonal re-
ligion-the wisdom of winning souls unto
Christi