Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1884-08-30

i Eva Gordon Taylor, III the current.
BEYOND THESE CHILLING WINDS.
Beyond these chilling winds and gloomy skies,
Beyond deaths solemn portal
There is u land where beauty never dies
And love becomes immortal.
o land unknown o land of love divine!
Father all wise, eternal,
Guide guide these wandering feet OF mine
-tNew York Observer.
REFLECTIONS.
Humanity is never so beautiful as when
praying for forgiveness, or else forgiving
another.
A conscience void of oi1ense before God
and man is an inheritance for eternity
Daniel Webster.
No seeds that we can SOW will yield us
such a beautiful and plentiful harvest as
little thoughtful, gentle remenbrances.
The doctrines of grace humble a man
W thout degrading him, and eXalt him
without initiating him. Charles Hodge,
The world is beginning to apprehend
that. after all our disputes and discussions
upon dogmatic Christianity, religion con-
ssts of love to God and love to man, and
has its final result and grand consumlna-
ton in character.-[ DR.. J. &. Holland
One of the first scientists Of the age, the
late Benjamin PIERCE, said " Is tins mag
nilicent display of ideality human delu-
sion. or is it Divine record? The heavens
and the earth have spoken to declare the
glory of God. 1t is not a tale told by an
IDIOT. signiNing nothing. 1t is the poem of
an infinite imagination, slgnliying MINOR
tality"
There are DAYS in every year when the
i e n
being. The faculties are quickened into
supernatural life The sky then wears Il
purer, clearer, deeper blue; the clouds soar
to Il loftier hight They arc no longer
vap0rs eXlIalcd from earth, but flakes OF
beauty let loose from heaven James
William Kimball.
And when it is all over, and our feet Will
run no more and our hands are helpless,
and we have scarcely strength to murmur
last prayer, then we shall see that instead
of needing a large field, we have left I'M
titled many corners Of our single acre, and
that none of il is fit for our Masters eye
were il not for the Softening shadow of the
Cross Edward Garrett.
Love is the top of the tree. Joy is not
necessarily associated with thinking, but
low is inscparable from love Love awakens
love even in cold souls as the sun awakens
fragrant flowers from cold roots. Weary
hearts never forget the hours which they
have spent in the company OF Iove-hlled
souls. Nothing is so sure of ample and
endless recompense as love- John Pulls
ford
1t is said that gardeners. sometimes. when
they would bring 4 rose to richer flower
ings. deprive it for a season Of light and
moisture Silent and dark it stands, drop
=, !. ,,Tt. tl,at. L
seeming to 90 down patiently to death
But when every leaf is dropped, and the
plant stands stripped to the uttermost, a
new life is even then working in the buds
from which shall spring a tender foliage
and brighter wealth of flowers. So, often
in celestial gardenings. every leaf of earthly
10Y must drop before a new and divine
bloom visits the soul Harriet Beecher
Stowe.
Bear with each Others faults. Love one
another and help one another Pity each
other. Bear each others burdens. We are
all moving on a great Marcia vaster as
semblv than ever moved through the will
dernesS of old-and when we standrcyealed
to Him, and He 10 us, and we 10 each other
we shall look back with unspeakable sOr-
row at the Jars, and the discords, and the
uncharities of this mortal life; and for
every sweet kindness, for every loving help
fulneSs for every patience, and for every
sclf-denial or Sclt-sacrice We shall lift up
thanks to Almighty God.
There is one sin which it seems to me, is
everywhere and by everybody under-eStl-
mated tolerated with undue tolerance, and
quite TOO much overlooked in our valua-
lion of character. II is the sin Of fretting
He who fretS is never the one who mcnds
And when the Fl letter Is one who is beloved
whose nearnesS Of relation to Us makes his
frctiing at the weather seem almost like a
personal rcprcach to us, then the misery Of
il becomes indeed insuPportable. Most men
call frcttin" minor iauIt-a fulble, and mot
vice There is hardly any vice, except
drunkenness, which can 50 utterly destroy
the peace. the happiness of home.-H. Fl.
have spent many hours of enchanment
in the mountains Of Wales listening TO the
music Of the harp. ! think only Welsh
men know how to play the harp. ! have
| heard the music 20 Sobhing and wailing up
and down the mountain side as though
some great heart was breaking in agony
and despair; and have heard the mystic
| strings discourse such sweet, cXulting mel
o,lics that one would think the Joys of
angels had fallen to the lot of men.
Sometimes ! noticed that just when the
| harper had filled the glen with music, and
every string of his harp was quiyering
| with melody, he would suddenly strike the
| harp-strings with his open palm. This, |
| found. was not to silence the harp, hut
only to soften and subdue It's cadences.
| So. | think, God often lays His hand upon
Us. not to smitc Us into silence but to
hallow and soiemnizc the music Of our
| lives Elmo.
Two Scotchmen in the north of Scotland
went fishing one day, and, Is men some
TINES do there. as well n here, got drunk.
| When il was time 20 90 home one of them
cast off the headline, and they got into the
boat. took the oars and began to pull to-
ward home, as they supposed. After some
time was thus spent, one said Sandie, is
| il not time we were humc?" The other
| agreed with him, and they redoubled their
| efforts. but without making any progress.
| At last morning dawned and the effects of
| the whisky passed of, and they found that
| while casting off the headline they had
| forgotten the stcrn-linc, and were fast to
| the shore, while they thought they were
| homeward bound So it often is with
| Christians we cast off the headline and
wonder we do not make faster progress,
| when all the time the stcrn-iine is holding
us fast 70 the shore. That stcrn-iuc inter
| fcrcs with Us wonderfully. We are fast
| somewhere, and we can't go whore the
spirit leads us. Some compromise with
! the world, some thr>ad-a silken one, per
| haps-sOme church, something holds Us
| back, and till we cut lose from everything
we are shore-bound.-[R Rev. George f. Pen
|