Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1858-07-14
BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS.

BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS.
Few men, at this age of the world,
have better thoughts, or express them
better, than Rev. B. F. Taylor. Listen:
Time is the meekest and miidest, and
yet the most sadly slandered AMI abused
of all created things.
They charge him with forgetfulnes-,
while he is always reminding them of
the past in his twilights, and the sweet
Springs in his Autumns. They make
him out Vandal, though he wakens the
young tree that lay asleep al the roots of
the old, and gives the world q young
moon in an old moons arms. They say
he is foe to the pencil and the graver,
though with artist hand he azures the
hills we have come over, and gilds the
yesterdays we have expended, until those
look Like curtains let down from Heaven
in a roll, and these like the days we
dream of in Paradise.
They declare him "grim," though he
opened q blue eye in Violet, ''that
went into society," only a morning age,
and smiles in pair of them. in a willow
cradle over the way. He ripens the
clusters of the old vintage; endears US to
old books; he blesses US with old friends
They are not content with the libels,
and so they paint him as bald and sytie-
bearing old Harvester.
That inlaying the cheeks ofyouth with
the leaves of red roses, as time does.
that building a temple with handful OF
acorns, if you will only have patience TO
wall for him-that softening Of the pulse
Of age down TO the dying point, as he can
that ripening into diamonds of to-day
The rude and smutty coal of yesterday
these are no work for poor, palsied old
husbandman.
Who has not heard in bis time-a pair
of lips, that 'cherry-ripe themselves did
cry" talk in the coolest manner imagin-
able, of killing Time7 Just as if he had
not been their owners ''nexl best friend
ever since she was born-cIo!hing her
with beauty as with a garment, and
strewing her path With blessings. Just
as if the hour had not come with thou
sands as fair as she, when they would
have surrendered the roses of York and
Lancaster, only for lille while with
Time-when they would have pleaded
in earnest tones for the rudest of his
moods, if he would only linger.
Killing Time! When he has filled the
heart, and crowned the brow with jewelry
great, noble diamonds of days, and
glorious circlets set round with hours
He lavishes upon us from childhood TO
maturity, all his treasures Of beauty and
strength, and opportunity; and lest we
should love him too much, and cling le
him too closely, ne gently takes away
from us, almost without cur knowing il,
gift after gift, that we may not be en-
numbered with the Impedimenta. as
Caesar called 1.-THE baggage of life-on
the journeys we must, by and by, be taxi
ing. He thins out our tresses, and turns
them gray, and silver, and white, and we
come to think it is about as well as the
dark locks we wore once. He takes
away the springing step of youth. firm
tread of manhood, and makes US love the
sweet repose of home. We begin to
think as much of the twiigh,s as we did
of the moons. Then he loosens a little
the silver cords, and the broken pitcher
returns no more 10 the fountain, and the
wheel is out of repair at the cislern, and
we are ready TO go.
But Time, against whom we have
plotted, lives on, and the golden hands
upon the dial of Heaven must stand sill,
ere his great missions of beauty and mer-
cy viii be ended.