| The Glory of the Common Life |
Chapter 16 |
Page 6 |
From the woods on each side came songs of nightingales – one, two, three, four, five, six. It is marvelous how much music God can put into a little bird’s throat. The forest seemed filled with song. The loneliest places in life are thus filled with music if we have ears to hear what the myriad voices say. The trouble with too many people is that their ears misinterpret the sounds that fall upon them. They hear only sadness, while they ought to hear songs. If we would learn to find even the thousandth part of the good there is in the world, we would sing all the way. Thus we would have all our life transfigured. One of the Sunday afternoon songs the “British Weekly” gives its readers teaches somewhat severely, yet in unforgettable fashion, a good lesson.
“If you wish to grumble, go
Where there’s no one nigh to hear;
Let the story of your woe
Fall upon no mortal ear.
“Store your troubles far away,
Hid within some jungle deep,
Where nobody’s like to stray,
Or to hear you when you weep.
“But if joy hath come to you,
Shout it; spread it far and wide;
Share with others all the true
Happinesses that betide.
“Joy and pain contagious are,
Smiles evoke their kith and kin;
Tears will travel fast and far
If you fail to hold them in,
“Who is blest the better? He
Who hath filled the world with cheer,
Or the man of misery
With his ever ready tear?”
To go through the year with God is the noblest, divinest, blessedest thing anyone can do. It will lead the feet on an upward path every step of the way. Though the outward life waste, the inward life shall be renewed day by day.
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