The Wedding Ring: A Series of Discourses for Husbands and Wives and Those Contemplating MatrimonyTalmage, T. De Witt (Thomas De Witt)
Religion
The Wedding Ring: A Series of Discourses for Husbands and Wives and Those Contemplating Matrimony
Talmage, T. De Witt (Thomas De Witt)
Marriage
"Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings,
Thy better portion trace;
Rise from transitory things
Toward heaven, thy native place!"
I adopt the Episcopalian prayer, and say: "Good Lord, deliver us!"
MENTAL IMPOVERISHMENT.
Extravagant costume belittles the intellect. Our minds are enlarged or
they dwindle just in proportion to the importance of the subject on
which we constantly dwell. Can you imagine anything more dwarfing to
the human intellect than the study of dress? I see men on the street
who, judging from their elaboration, I think must have taken two hours
to arrange their apparel. After a few years of that kind of
absorption, which one of McAllister's magnifying glasses will be
powerful enough to make the man's character visible? What will be left
of a woman's intellect after giving years and years to the discussion
of such questions? They all land in idiocy. I have seen men at the
summer watering-places through fashion the mere wreck of what they
once were. Sallow of cheek. Meagre of limb. Hollow at the chest.
Showing no animation save in rushing across a room to pick up a lady's
fan. Simpering along the corridors the same compliments they simpered
twenty years ago.
BARS HEAVEN.
Yet, my friends, I have given you only the milder phase of this evil.
It shuts a great multitude out of heaven. The first peal of thunder
that shook Sinai declared: "Thou shalt have no other gods before me,"
and you will have to choose between the goddess of fashion and the
Christian God. There are a great many seats in heaven, and they are
all easy seats, but not one seat for the devotee of costume. Heaven is
for meek and quiet spirits. Heaven is for those who think more of
their souls than of their bodies.
Give up this idolatry of fashion or give up heaven. What would you do
standing beside the Countess of Huntingdon, whose joy it was to build
chapels for the poor; or with that Christian woman of Boston, who fed
fifteen hundred children of the street, at Fanueil Hall, one New
Year's Day, giving out as a sort of doxology at the end of the
meeting a pair of shoes to each one of them; or those Dorcases of
modern society who have consecrated their needles to the Lord, and who
will get eternal reward for every stitch they take?
PERPETUAL ENVY.
Oh, men and women, give up the idolatry of costume! The rivalries and
the competitions of such a life are a stupendous wretchedness. You
will always find some one with brighter array, and with more palatial
residence, and with lavender kid gloves that make a tighter fit. And
if you buy this thing and wear it you will wish you had bought
something else and worn it. And the frets of such a life will bring
the crow's feet to your temples before they are due, and when you come
to die you will have a miserable time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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