ow different this from man! More helpless than the
stupid beast, and more senseless than the creeping worm, he starts to
make the pilgrimage of life. But what a change does time produce! The
child more helpless than the humming insect of an hour, becomes the
monarch of the world. He bridles the lightning in its home above the
mountain peaks, and makes it do his bidding. The terror of the ages
past, becomes his willing servant. He harnesses the steam, that for
ages spent its power in the open air, and with it moves the world. He
sends his whisperings through old ocean's bed, where the great
leviathan sports, as if he talked to one across the room. He leaps
aloft as if on steady wing, till his look is downward where the
lightnings play and the thunderbolt leaps to its deadly mission.
Wonderful development! The heavens declare the glory of God, and the
earth proclaims the dominion of man. He was made a little lower than
the angels, and crowned with majesty. Age counts with man, and years
bring knowledge, but not unfailing wisdom. Did man grow wise with age,
as a sure result, age should be an unfailing blessing sought. But
imbecility it often brings and childish discontent. These are the
blighted sheaves of evil sowing in the spring and summer days of life.
With right ideas of life, men grow wiser and better, as they older grow
in the service of their God. Life is not measured simply by the flight
of time. Men live more now than they did before the flood. Intenser
now is _life_. Into a few decades, is now crowded the patriarch's
experience of nearly a thousand years. How to grow old, is a problem
not to be despised. It should not be left to solve itself. To grow old
gracefully, is to make a picture on which the world delights to look.
But, alas! how sadly blurred is the picture by many made! It is sad to
see one's religion sour with age. While young and strong the loved
disciple on the bosom of the Master leaned. Then when age had dimmed
his eagle eye, and time had stolen his elastic step, he had the same
love for his children in the faith. His was a sweet old age, the
outgrowth of a life of faith and love. He grew old gracefully. When
brought, as was his wont, and before his congregation set, his last
sermons were mainly the touching, tender words, "My little children,
love one another." O, that his mantle could on many of us fall! But
oft, alas! we see grow cross, self-willed and sour the shepherd of the
flock. This, too,