the crown of thorns-第6部分

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adow　of　earthly　disappointment；　all　unconsciously　to　ourselves；　our　Divine　Redeemer　is　walking　by　our　side。




Life　a　Tale


We　spend　our　years　as　a　tale　that　is　told。　　Psalm　xc。9。


We　bring　our　years　to　an　end　like　a　thought；　is　the　proper　rendering　of　these　words；　according；　to　an　eminent　translator。　　But　as　the　essential　idea　of　the　Psalmist　is　preserved　in　the　common　version；　I　employ　it　as　peculiarly　illustrative　and　forcible。　　It　will　be　my　object；　in　the　present　discourse；　to　show　the　fitness　of　the　comparison　in　the　text；　to　suggest　the　points　of　resemblance　between　human　life　and　a　passing　narrative。

I　observe；　then；　in　the　first　place；　that　the　propriety　of　this　simile　is　seen　in　the　brevity　of　life。　　What　more　rapid　and　momentary　than　a　story？　　It　is　heard；　and　passes。　　Though　it　beguiles　us　for　the　time；　it　dies　away　in　sound；　or　melts　from　before；　the　eye。　　And　this　I　say；　strikingly　illustrates　the　brevity　of　life。　The　brevity　of　life！　　It　is　a　trite　truth；　and　yet　how　little　realized！　　Probably　there　is　nothing；　more　common；　and　yet　there　is　nothing；　more　pernicious；　than　the　habit　of　virtual　dependence　upon　length　of　days。　　Thus　the　best　ends　of　our　mortal　being　are　lost　sight　of；　the　solemn　circumstances；　the　suggestive　mysteries　of　life；　are　misconstrued。　　The　heavens；　which　give　a　myriad　hints　of　worlds　beyond　the　grave；　are；　to　many；　impenetrable　walls；　shutting　them　in　to　mere　pursuits　of　sense；　　the　upholstery　of　a　workshop　or　bazaar；　and　this　earth；　which　is　but　a　step；　a　filmy　platform　of　our　immortal　course；　is　to　them　the　solid　abiding　place　of　all　interest；　and　of　all　hope。

It　is　well；　then；　to　break　in　upon　this　worldly　reliance；　　to　consider　how　fleeting　and　uncertain　are　the　things　in　which　we　garner　up　so　much。　　Therefore；　in　order　that　we　may　more　vividly　realize　the　brevity　of　life；how　like　it　is　to　a　passing　tale；let　us　consider　the　rapidity　of　its　changes；　even　in　a　few　short　years。　　We　are；　to　some　degree；　made　aware　how　fast　the　current　of　time　bears　us　on；　when　we　pause　and　remark　the　shores；　when　we　observe　how　our　position　to…　day　has　shifted　from　what　it　was　yesterday；　how　the　sunny　slopes　of　youth　have　been　changed　for　the　teeming　uplands　of　maturity；　yea；　perhaps；　how　already　the　stream　is　narrowing；　and　rushing　more　swiftly　as　it　narrows；　towards　those　high　hills　that　bound　our　present　vision；　upon　whose　summits　lingers　the　departing　light；　and　around　whose　base　thickens　the　solemn　shadow。

This　rapidity　of　change　is　most　strikingly　illustrated　when；　after　a　few　years'　absence；　we　return　to　the　scenes　of　our　youth。　　We　plunged　into　the　current　of　the　world；　buoyant　and　vigorous；　our　thoughts　have　been　occupied　every　hour；　and　we　have　not　noticed　the　stealthy　shadow　of　time。　　But　we　come　back　to　that　early　spot；　and　look　around。　　Lo！　The　companions　of　our　youth　have　grown　into　dignified　men；the　active　and　influential　citizens　of　the　place。　　Care　has　set


〃Busy　wrinkles　round　their　eyes。〃


They　meet　us　with　formal　deportment；　or　with　an　ill…concealed　restlessness；　as　though　we　hindered　them　in　their　work；　work！　Which；　when　we　parted　with　them；　would　have　been　flung　to　the　winds　for　any　idle　sport。　　How　quickly　they　have　changed　into　this　gravity　and　anxiety！　　On　the　other　hand；　those　who　stood　where　they　stand　now；whose　names　occupied　the　signs　and　the　records　which　theirs　now　fill；have　passed　away；　or；　here　and　there；　come　tottering　along；　bent　and　gray…headed　men。　　Those；　too；　who　were　mere　infants…those　whom　we　never　saw…take　up　our　old　stations；　and　inspire　them　with　the　gladness　of　childhood。　　And　exactly　thus　have　we　changed　to　others。　　We　are　a　mirror　to　them　and　they　to　us。

From　this　familiar　experience；　then；　let　us　realize　that　the　stream　of　life　does　not　stop；　nor　are　we　left　stationary；　but　carried　with　it；　though　our　condition　may　appear　unchanged；　until　we　lift　up　our　eyes；　and　look　for　the　old　landmarks。　The　brevity　of　our　life！　my　friends。　　Amid　our　daily　business；in　the　sounding　tumult　of　the　great　mart；　and　the　absorption　of　our　thoughts；do　we　think　of　it？　　Do　we　perceive　how　nearly　we　approach　a　goal　which　a　little　while　ago　seemed　far　before　us？　　Do　we　observe　how　quickly　we　shoot　by　it？　　Do　we　mark　with　what　increasing　swiftness　the　line　of　our　life　seems　reeling　off；　and　how　close　we　are　coming　to　the　end？　　Time　never　stops！　　Each　tick　of　the　clock　echoes　our　advancing　footsteps。　　The　shadow　of　the　dial　falls　upon　it　a　shorter　and　shorter　tract；　which　we　have　yet　to　pass　over。　　Even　if　a　long　life　lies　before　us；　let　us　consider　that　thirty…five　years　is　high　noon　with　us；the　meridian　of　that　arc　which　comprehends　but　threescore　years　and　ten！

But　we　may　be　more　vividly　impressed　with　the　fact　of　the　brevity　of　life；　if　we　adopt　some　criterion　wider　than　these　familiar　measurements。　　The　narrative；　the　story；　engages　our　ears；　in　the　pauses　of　care　and　labor。　　We　listen　to　it　in　the　noonday　rest；　and　around　the　evening　fire。　　It　is　a　slight　break　in　the　monotony　of　our　business；an　interlude　in　the　solemn　march　of　life。　　And　thus；　in　some　respects；　is　life　itself。　　It　is　so；　if　we　take　into　view　a　long　series　of　existence；　such　as　the　succession　of　human　generations；　or；　still　more；　the　periods　of　creative　development；　and　the　computations　of　time　as　applied　to　the　forms　and　changes　of　the　material　universe。　　In　this　vast　train　of　being；　our　individual　existence；　however　important　to　ourselves；　is　but　an　interlude…a　tale。　　Let　us；　then；　for　a　while；　lay　aside　any　conventional　method　of　estimating　our　life；a　method　in　which　that　life　fills　a　large　space；　simply　because　it　is　brought　near　to　the　eye；　and　let　us　endeavor　to　take　a　view　of　it；　as　it　were；　from　the　fixed　stars；　or　from　the　elevation　of　the　immortal　state。

Compare；　then；　if　you　will；　this　life　of　yours　or　mine；　not　with　the　personal　standard　of　threescore　years　and　ten；　but　with　the　whole　course　of　human　history；　and　instantly　we　appear　but　as　bubbles　in　the　stream　of　ages。　　But；　again；　consider　how　history　itself　is　as　〃a　tale　that　is　told；〃　and　then；　indeed；　what　a　mere　incident　in　it　all　is　your　life　and　mine！　　If　we　stand　off　at　the　distance　of　a　few　centuries；　so　that　we　have　no　present　interest　in　them；　it　is　strange　how　the　proudest　empires　assume　an　empty　and　spectral　aspect。　Their　growth　and　decline　occupied　ages；　but　what　a　brief　achievement　it　appears　now！　　Why　puzzle　ourselves　about　their　origin；　or　seek　to　disengage　the　true　from　the　fabulous　in　their　history？　　Why　strain　laboriously　to　settle　names；　and　dates；　and　dynasties？　　What　mere　point　they　have　occupied　in　the　processes　of　the　great　universe！　　Their　hieroglyphic　pillars；　their　gray　old　pyramids；what　are　they　to　the　age　of　Uranus；　or　the　new　planet？　　Each　of　these　empires　fulfilled　its　mission；　and　relatively　that　mission　was　a　great　one；　but　in　the　long　sweep　of　God's　providence；　and　among　the　phenomena　of　absolute　being；　what　a　brief　link；　a　subordinate　climax；　it　was！　　The　huge　ribs　of　the　earth；　and　the　coral　islands　of　the　sea　were　longer　in　building；　and　even　these　are　transitory　manifestations　of　God's　purposes；　which　stream　around　us　through　constant　change　and　succession。　　And　what；　then；　are　these　nations…these　epochs　of　humanity…but　waves　rising　and　breaking　on　the　great　sea　of　eternity？　　Mysterious　Egypt；　haughty　Assyria；　glorious　Greece；　kingly　Rome；how　spectral　they　have　become。　　They　stand　out　in　no　relief。　　As　we　recede　from　them；　they　sink　back；　flat　and　inanimate　on　the　horizon。　　Each　is　a　tale　that　has　been　told。　　Surely；　then；　if　such　is　the　life　of　nations；　I　need　not　labor　to　impress　upon　you　a　sense　of　the　brevity　of　our　individual　existence。

But；　for　a　moment；　turn　your　thoughts　to　estimates　that　far　exceed　the　periods　of　history；　and　confound　all　our　ordinary　measurements。　　What　is　our　mortal　existence；　into　which　we　crowd　so　much　interest；over　the　anticipated　length　of　which　we　slumber；into　whose　uncertain　future　we　project　our　lithe　plans　so　confidently；compared　to　the　age　of　the　heavens；　the　lifetime　of　worlds？compared　to　their　march；　from　the　moment　when　they　obeyed　the　creative　fiat　to　that　when　they　shall　complete　their　great　cycle？　　It　takes　three　years　for　light　to　travel　from　the　nearest　fixed　star　to　the　earth；　from　another　it　takes　twelve　years；　while；　on　its　journey　from　a　star　of　the　twelfth　magnitude；　twenty　four　billions　of　miles　away；　it　consumes　four　thousand　years。　　And　yet　we　speak　of　long　life！　　Why；　when　the　light　that　wraps　us　now　shall　be　changed　for　the　light　that　is　just　leaping　from　that　distant　star；　where　in　the　gray　bosom　of　the　past　shall　we　be？　　Sunken；　forgotten；　crumbled　to　imperceptible　atoms；　the　ashes　of　generations…the　dust　of　empires…heaped　over　us！　　And　when　we　compare　those　wide　estimates　to　that　divine　eternity　that　evolves　and　limits　all　things；　how　does　our　individual　existence　on　the　earth　dwindle　and　vanish！a　heart…throb　in　the　pulses　of　the　universal　life；a　quivering　leaf　in　the　forest　of　being；〃a　tale　that　is　told〃！

And　yet；　my　friends；　our　realization　of　existence　is　so　intense；the　horizon　of　the　present　shuts　us　in　so　completely；that　it　really　requires　an　effort　for　us　to　pause　and　remember　that　we　are　such　transitory　beings。　　It　cannot　be　（we　may　unconsciously　reason）；　that　we　to　whom　this　earth　is　bound　with　ligaments　so　intimate　and　strong；　whose　breathing　and　motion…whose　contact　and　action　here…are　such　realities；　whose　ears　hear　these　varying　sounds　of　life；　whose　eyes　drink　in　this　perpetual　and　changing　beauty；　to　whom　business；　study；　friendship；　pleasure；　domestic　relations；　are　such　fresh　and　constant　facts；　to　whom　the　dawn　and　the　twilight；　the　nightly　slumber　and　the　daily　meal；　are　such　regular　experiences；　to　whom　our　possessions；　our　houses；　lands；　goods；　money；　are　such　substantial　things；it　cannot　be　that　we　are　not　fixed　permanently　here；that　the　years　like　a　swift　river；　sweep　us　nearer　and　nearer　to　a　point　where　we　must　sink　and　leave　it　all；that　the　corridors　of　the　earth　echo　our　footsteps　only　as　the　footsteps　of　a　successive　march…myriads　going　before；　and　myriads　coming　after　us…and　soon　they　will　catch　no　more　murmurs　of　our　individual　life；　for　that　will　be　as　〃a　tale　that　is　told。〃

The　whole　train　of