The central Presbyterian. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1856-1908, 1881-05-18
For the Central Presbyterian
A Winter Evenings Soliloquy

For the Central Presbyterian.
A Winter Evenings Soliloquy.
(IN THE HEBRIDEs.)
Another February day has passed.
x x 1t is 1881. x < It is pleasant to
live, and live, and witness changes, and
feel impressions of the beautiful and good,
at home, abroad, above, beneath, in all
the world around. This is most highly
favored land we live in, by comparison.
Are we grateful enough? x * * How
swift communication in our day. All
the world lis brought together in one
neighborhood. We feel the pulse of dis
tant peoples. We hear each day the
various clamors from two continents. We
know to-day what they were bothered
about last evening late. This is a noisy,
busting place we call the earth. There
is great deal going on, we think. Per-
haps we are mistaken. We are not if
providence and eternity permeate and
| light up our view. x
Well, what will tomorrow be? What
that is new? what that l want? X 4 y
wonder what the year will be,-that is,
for me.
While supper was preparing I sat thus
alone in the old east-room looking down
now at the cheerful, roaring CRATE, and
now out into the dusky twilight at the
tree-tops swaying drearily, as if to see
the chilling blasts which 1 had Just es-
capped. Then 1 looked back over the
days of the week behind me, of a whole
month and more. 1 tried to think of the
doings and feelings of each day, and how
they differed from each other.
How much alike they seem, I said.
The days of great events are far between.
The days of small things have been the
telling. ones by their very aggregate.
One day has been very like another to
me. The same round of acts, and feel
ings, and experience. How long will this
monotony continue? Will tomorrow be
like to-day, will next month be Just like
the last, and 1881 sum up like 1880? Is
this satisfactory life?
You are religious man, | said to NY
self. What have these to-meo7YoaUs been
doing for you? Are you standing in a
tread mill too? Is the tomorrow Of your
spiritual affairs to be a mere repetition of
to-day, "only this and nothing more" f?
And then | said "God be merciful
to me sinner" [ felt discouraged at
this view and argument. And as if to
clinch the thought, came floating out
upon my memory there in that dim an
cestral room these words which I pro-
nounced almost unconsciously, We spend
Our years as q tale that IS told," (9Oth
Psalm). I wished to know all Moses felt
when he prayed that Psalm Surely he
was in the depths. 1t carries profound
humiliation and self-accusation to the
farthest point. He almost makes himself
declare his people have no growth what
ever. He puts the very worst face upon
them. To do SO is generally nearest the
truth. What is our littlel We want
ourselves felicitated too much from press
and pulpit. But men are seldom so cor
rect in their estimate Of character as in
some great soul crisis. Then we loathe
ourselves. The fear of God is a mighty
eye-salve This must have been a part
of that most dreadful argument on Mt.
Sinai as he pleaded with Jehovah face to
face for Israel when they seemed fit for
nothing but destruction. If ever there
were circumstances to, inspire such God
like thoughts in prayer this was the place
and time. How natural that Moses
should preserve for Gods people and for
himself the prayer which had prevailed
at such time, shorn perhaps Of some
passages applicable only there.
As tale that IS told" 1t is true of
ALL Our life is like weaver's shuttle
in another sense than swiftness. Our
advance is only lateral movement in the
.meshes Of the chain of providence. Even
Moses on the mountain top comparing
what he is with glimpses Of perfectness
glorious and transcendent, is constrained
to class himself with those foolish people
in the plain below And so the meek
confession comes to us in countless mel
ancholy tones repeated through all the
ages since, we spend our years as a tale