The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1907-09-29
LETTERS TO A CHUM
90 QQQQQQQQQQ5QQQaQ NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS.

BY c.. F. Marsh.

| comeSi Ha! ha! what viii o. the
wisp the old world is! It's not what
! we get, but what we want that seems
desirable. bag of gold at the end
: of the rainbow. ~
/ I'm never so content as when | give
vent. to things that fancy, and things
| believe. There's then no contention.
nor even dissention And nothing is
done to make other folks grieye. Get
away from the hurry, get away from
the worry. Don't live in the storm.
the wilderness leave! Find zest in, the
beauty, find joy in the duty, that every
day brings to your eyes and your
hands.
Our God has hidden treasure, to be
/ found at our leisure, IT'S not in the
. realm where strife ruleth the lands,
For love guardeth these riches, and
she telleth not which is the place
| where this treasure is found save to
the seeker who loyeth his Maker, and
searcheth the whole year round It is
not in the gold, nor in bonds manifold,
This treasure of riches so rare, But
in betterment of life, and soothing its
strife, And easing its burdens and
care.
could picture Ethiopia, and people
it, too, but-the reality, the reality
where shall We find it? You will call
me down, and say come out of the
cloudsi This is just the humdrum
old world" But 1t isn't humdrum! IT.
got tnfinitudes of beauty in Il, limit
less mysteries, multitudinous un5olyed
problems. all the colors Of the uni
verse, all the properties of creation.
all the forces of nature. 1t is min
allure universe, and yet big enough to
spend an eternity of investigation in.
We call it humdrum because we have
put smoked glasses on our eyes. and
hadged in our vision, we have tied
our arms to our sides and cannot
reach a handsbreadth, our feet are
manacled and we do not walk, we hear
the wrangle and strife of limited life,
and not the music of the orchestra
which has been playing since the stars
first sang together. Greed, greed. !
gain, gain, is the refrain of the null |
titude, and is minor chord VIII |
it be the funeral dirge of the race, or |
will the seed sown by the wise hus- |
bandman terminate, grow, thrive, |
flower and fruit, and will the harvest |
be the waking of the nations, the up
lifting of the race, the regeneration |
of mankind?
Are we evoluting, gradually rising /
into better type. being fitted for less
material existence? Is the increas-l
ing ratio Of use and waste of the
material things of our world changing
our environment, so that we are un-
consciously adjusting ourselves to new
conditions? Is this insanity for pos /
session but the fever preceding con-
YaleScence, and are we approaching
sane condition, where we will under
stand that every one CT Gods children
has an equal right with every other
individual to the things which the All
Father has placed here for them? AS
the air above us is for the whole
world, and neither contamination or
can for a moment be con-
sidered, SO the earth and all that
therein is belongs to God. and his
children may use but not abuse it.
Fettered are the hands we're using.
Fettered are the feet We walk on. Fet-
tered are the eyes we see with. And
dull the ears with which we listen. |
Gods own hands must guide our NOV
ing He cur seeing must control He
our listening ears must quicken. aye, |
quicken cen our soul. He no failure
hath designed. He no error doth
Then we'll wait and listen,
listen, waiting still, will listening sit
Dear old comrade, I must not weary
you, and | must keep something for
my future responses 80, repeating
'Old Rip" may you live long and
prosper. G. F. NJ.