Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1876-07-20
THE HAREBELL'S SERMON.

DEAR children, shall I tell you
about a sermon which | once heard :?
1t was a very warm day in June, and
quite wearied out with long walk, |
sat down to rest beneath the shade of
an old apple tree which grew in beau
tiful garden.
The air was heavy with the fra
GRANGE of the roses, while on the
branch overhead a little robin was
warbling his story Of love to his pretty
mate: but when he saw me, they both
flew away, leaving the breeze to rock
their leafy cradle and lull their little
ones to sleep. Then all was very still,
except the low droning of the bee
when, suddenly, I heard a small, shrill
voice exclaim:
"What is the use of trying? / can
never be of any use in the world. |
wish | were Lilac-bush for then the
birds would build their nests in my
branches; but as it is, [ am of no use
and do not seem to grow at all, and [
can never, never, never climb up this
WALL
[ looked in the direction of the voice,
and great was my establishment to find
that it was the Honeysuckle. [ had
never heard flower speak before; so
you may be sure I kept very still. lest
l might brighten it.
es, continued the HOneysuckle,
'nOne of you know what it is to have
to climb a wall; and I am tired of try
ing, for [ know | shall never reach the
top"
"Oh" said the little Pansies, as
they rustled their dresses of purple and
gold, eve would gladly exchange
places with you, for no one can see our
fine clothes down here, under the
shadow of this same great Lilac that
you were talking about"
Then [ heard the tinkIing as of many
little bells, and, turning my head, be-
held, swaying in the breeze, a number
of Harebells, dressed in their bOdices
of blue. After the musical chime had
ceased, one of them stepped little in
advance of the rest, and hanging her
head for a moment, as if lost in
thought, said in sweet, silvery tones:
eve are, all of us, of some use in
the world, and we should never give
up trying. Our Heavenly Father has
given us each place, and whether it
be one Of humble or high degree, we
should be cOntented with our lot, and
do the best we can. Not of use, fair
HOneysuckle? Oh! think of the bees
how they love to creep into your
flowers and gather the sweet honey,
and when, well laden, they fly to their
cells, they hasten to return that they
may gather more. If only for their
sake, and the humming-birdS, / should
think you would be happy Tired of
trying to gain the wall? Suppose now,
little Robin Redbreast, when building
his nest, had said, / will never, never
finish tit takes so long to gather |
moss and hay-besides, of what use in |
the world am /, little bird?' But |
BRIDES heart was brave. Try again.
sang Robin; and patiently he wove the |
little nest, twig by twig, until, at last, |
his tiny home was all complete. He |
knows we love to listen to his song: SO |
he sings all day long, contented only if |
he may bring gladness to some sad |
heart. And his little ones-do YOU
think if they did not try little every
day, that they would ever learn to fy?
Then murmur not. sweet Honey
suckle, and say that you are of no use:
but rest contented with your lot: do /
all the good you can-and if your /
every little leafiet will only say. III
try soon you will find that you viii
have reached the top of the wall.
And now, little Pansies.'' said the
Harebell, . fine clothes will not bring
happiness unless you have contented
spirit. Your smiling faces were not