The Chautauquan, Vol. 03, December 1882: A Monthly Magazine Devoted to the Promotion of True Culture.; Organ of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific CircleChautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle
Religion
The Chautauquan, Vol. 03, December 1882: A Monthly Magazine Devoted to the Promotion of True Culture.; Organ of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle
Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle
Chautauqua Institution -- Periodicals; Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle -- Periodicals
Learn the conditions, then, on which you can be good. No goodness
without God’s Spirit—no Spirit without faith. You can not make yourself
better, can not hammer or pare your own nature into purity and
loveliness. But you can put your confidence in Jesus Christ, who will
take your nature into his hands and mold it into a fairest likeness to
himself. You can trust him, who will breathe into you his spirit to
make you holy. If my epitaph is ever to be, “He was a good man,” it
must first be said, “He was full of the Holy Ghost and of faith.” Let
us give up the weary, hopeless work of trying to make ourselves good,
and yield ourselves to him that he may make us like himself, and that
we may have a mightier power ever working in our natures till they are
full of beauty and “holy as God is holy.”
[_December 17._]
THE CONFLICTS OF LIFE.
By BISHOP EDWARD THOMSON, D. D., LL. D.
1. We can not escape difficulty. The air is tainted, the soil churlish,
the ocean tempest tossed. Whether we are in the field or in the
wilderness, on Persian plains or Alpine heights, amid equatorial heats,
or temperate climes, or polar solitudes, we are met by a thousand
obstacles. Earth is cursed, and everywhere she puts forth her thorn in
obedience to her Maker’s withering word. True, the curse is tempered
with the mercy which yields unnumbered blessings to the hand of toil;
nevertheless, it cleaves to all earth’s surface, and turns the key upon
her hidden treasures. We read of cloudless skies, and sunny climes, and
fields which need naught but the sickle; but who finds them? Paradise
is always ahead of the emigrant.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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