Scripture texts illustrated by general literatureJacox, Francis
Religion
Scripture texts illustrated by general literature
Jacox, Francis
Homiletical illustrations
But as Cowper elsewhere draws the contrast, in the Latin motto he wrote
for the king’s clock,—
“Quæ lenta accedit, quam velox præterit hora!”
(Slow comes the hour; its passing speed how great!—so Hayley Englished
the line.) “Since this new epoch in my life,” writes Schleiermacher on a
certain occasion, “time seems to fly twice as quickly as before, and I
can quite fancy that when Jatte and I are grown old and grey, we shall
still feel as if only a few days had gone by.” Moore was in his sixtieth
year when Lord John Russell talked with him of the speed with which time
seems to fly; and Moore records in his Diary the question he put, “If you
find it so now, what will you say of it when you are as old as I am?”
The “peculiar melancholy” of the answer given is emphasised in the same
journal.
Another retrospective reviewer pictures our race as struggling ever
onward, toiling up towards some air-built goal never to be attained—while
the past crumbles instantly away behind our steps, like the staircase of
the Epicurean, as we advance in our progress; and every step, which was
of such magnitude when we passed it, is forgotten in the “collectiveness
of retrospection,” insomuch that at times a passing thought would compass
the events of years.
Few and evil the patriarch declares the days of the years of his
pilgrimage to have been, when, in answer to Pharaoh’s “How old art
thou?” the answer is, A hundred and thirty years. Man that is born of a
woman is of few days, said another patriarch, and full of trouble. His
days are swifter than a post, they flee away, they see no good. They
are passed away as the swift ships; they are swifter than a weaver’s
shuttle. _Festinat enim decurrere velox Flosculus angustæ miseræque
brevissima vitæ Portio._ And thus in Juvenal’s pregnant phrase, _obrepit
non intellecta senectus_. Or, as with the ageing subject of the Three
Warnings,—
“Old Time whose haste no mortal spares,
Uncalled, unheeded, unawares,
Brought him on his eightieth year.”
We bring our years to an end, as it were a tale that is told.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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