The Potter journal. [volume] (Coudersport, Pa.) 1857-1872, 1857-07-02


hang it On the wall of truth with grea
reluctance; all of us, and for the mos
part indeed, keep it tied and strained
around us, Til, stumbling over some
great, ugly fact, we actually burst Out
Of it.
| Day after day our thoughts 60 travel
ling "round about this pendent world
in search Of treasures no less fabulous
than the bag of gold at the end of the
rainbow, and night after night they come
back to us wearied out with the profit.
less journey, and we 60 to bed, less to
have our eyeids touched by ''natare's
sweet restorer," than to dream of divin.
ing rods, and of "fairies who speak
pearls" 1aas @
Sabbath after Sabbath our preachers
pray for blessings to be showered down
upon the congregations, till Heaven ex-
hapstea of patience, seals up its hearing,
and the vain words 'peeome mumble in
the mouths of the petitioners. And no
wonder Heaven is tired of the much say
ling, "God be mercifnl," and the never
saying, HGad be praised"
"Lo, he goeth by me, and I see him not: he
passeth on also, but perceive him not
Which alone spreadeth out the heavens, and
treadeth upon the waves of the seas Which
maketh Arcturus, Orion and the Pleiades, and
the chambers of the south. Which doeth
gaeat things, past fndidg out; yea, and won
ders without number"
The seasons are his handmaids, and we
say to them, "Ye come only by chance"
Winter lays down at our feet her great
white book, and we give it to the sun
beams to take back, without having writ
ten on its pages, "Our Father who art in
heaven, hallowed be thy name" Spring
plants the fertile valleys with herbs, and
violets, and hollyhocks, and wheat and
corn, with burrows of Aeedfvl waters be-
tween, and we go into barren places and
ask for miracles. Summer sweetens the
air with apple-blossoms and hay-felds,
wild roses and mint, and we eail .an the
far isles to drift to our windows their
spicy odors. The fall comes With new
corn, and yellow pears, and melons, and
red peaches; lighting up all the hills with
the splendor of it's woodla4ds-calling
the cheerful cricket to the hearth, and
our families to the thanksgiving table,
where we give, really, but miserable
thanks. We groan out our complaints
to one another of the hardships and trials
of life, and reach down through the bles-
sings that surround US like the common
air, to fetch up out of the darkness all
the disappointments we have had to en-
eo1nter-all the crosses we have had to
bear. Hu s.a
For my part, | woader we are not Of
tener than we are forced out of the sock
ct of accustomed happiness, and made to
feel how more than good God has been
10 us.
We sit under the weight of blessings
until they become burden, and suffer
the fruitful branches of our vines to dark
en- our understandings till Providence
breaks them off in their greenness and
lets in the light. ...
We greatly more need to pray for wis
dom than happiness; the wild ass's colt
can enjoy, but men and women should be
able to live without happiness, save, in
deed, that best happiness fall that comes
in our conflicts with evil and our victo-
ries over it; that steadies up the soul in
the time of temptation, and finds place
iu the heart that is obedient to God, how
ever crowded with miseries it may be,
If we accustomed ourselves to take up
the realities of life, and strip them of
their delusions, we should find a great
augmentation of real comfort; we should
not be making proftless journeys after
the end of the rainbow, as SO many of us
are doing now. @
we expect too much of this world ;s.the
inevitable disappointment ehills and dis
courages US, and we say life is not worth
living, The roses we bind up in our
arms have briers among them tares viii
grow up with our wheat, and blight fall
upon our corn; the path of duty viii
sometimes grow hard and bare, and pain
that we cannot shoulder aside, fasten it
self upon us as we go along, and our only
hope is to bear it bravely. sighs and
lamentations are of no avail to tighten
L. "A