THE LADIES' REPOSITORY. AUGUST, 1861. EVERYTHING BEAUTIFUL IN HIS TIME." EVERYTHI BY REV. E. H. CHAPIN. The meaning of the passage from which I have taken the title to this article, appears to be this-that all things in their original purpose all things in their divine appointment are good. We accept here the same truth that we accept in the poet's assertion that Whatever is, is right." - Of course in this we do not assent to the proposition that whatever man does is right. We do not mean that the violence, the lust, the deceit which are in the world, are right. But the elements of being the great laws of life and of the universethings as intended by their Creator are good. For instance, the abuses of human agency-the sins that spring from the operation of free-will, are wrong; but the power of doing good or evil is not wrong, Let us consider the spiritual necessity and the scale of moral existence, with which it is involved. And he who looks upon this vast scheme of being in its largest relations who comprehends each event as moving in a wider orbit of events, will see how not only the phases of nature, and the periods of human life, youth and age, rain and sunshine, the prime of manhood and the flowering year; but even pain, sorrow and death, are beautiful, each in its time. But let me bring this proposition more distinctly into view. In the first place then, each thing is beautiful, or good, considered intrinsically-considered in itself. Be it remembered that we are speaking of Thus things as God made them, and of things as serving the ends for which God made them not as they stand here and there, dislocated, within the scope of man's moral action. And for illustration we will take the natural world. Here everything has an excellence of its own. We may test this assertion from more than one point of view. Nature is concentric. How far we see depends upon how deep we lookupon what kind of a lens we use. nature may assume simply an esthetic character, and be estimated as a theatre of beauty, as a living epic, or a gorgeous composition of music. In this aspect each thing is beautiful as an expression of creative inspiration-of an infinite mind freely scattering its conceptions; and it needs no vindication beyond the bare fact that it is one more incident in the story — one more tint in the picture in the swelling accordance. Then the scales of the serpent, and the lion's mane, fall into the same scheme, and deserve admiration for the same reason as the curve of the horizon, or the braid of the pleiades. one more note running brooks," we may believe that it is only our ignorance which hinders us from discerning "good in every thing." That some virtue which we do not know lurks in those forms of being which appear to us useless, or even pernicious, is a safe induction from what we do know. otony, the same wearisome disappointing unprofitable mystery." Are you upon a general survey of existence, ready to say this? or do you really say it now in the silence of your own heart? Then do I reply, that human life—whatever other objects it has purpose, interpreted by which all its phenomena are beautiful in their time, and itself, as a great whole, is good, in its time. And I assert this because I assume, and shall now proceed to show that human life is a process of education. In the development of this truth I shall endeavor to vindicate the worth of life, and to draw out an argument for religion. And not only is each thing in its origi-human life, for you and for me, has a nal purpose, beautiful; but so is it in its relations, though, doubtless, many of those run into a vaster region than we can now penetrate. It does not become us to decide upon the character of anything simply by its relation to ourselves. We cannot declare final causes. We cannot say precisely for what anything was made, or assume the welfare of man to be the highest point of the universe. As the skill of science enables us to extract beneficial uses from the weed or the shell which before seemed worthless, so a more transcendent vision might help us to discern the interior mechanism; the delicate bands in the reciprocal action of which even the meanest, coarsest object, would appear beautiful in its time. But while this train of remarks illustrates the general truth, the special point to which I would draw attention is this. that the present order of things that existence as a whole, and in its parts, exerts certain disciplinary influences, secures certain moral ends, in the unfolding of which each thing may be called beautiful in its time. 66 66 The very fact of a machine steadily working, suggests an end beyond the mechanism. The very fact of this universal order in which each thing comes and goes in its time, proves a purpose behind it and above it. A time to be born," "a time to die ;"-" a time to break down and a time to build up;' -a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to get and a time to lose," what is the meaning of these successive waves, of this monotonous diversity? Something beside profitless hope and labor is wrought out by all this. O my fellow-man, is your vision so dim that you can detect in it no superior meaning? Are you ready to say, "It is the same old story, life and death, joy and sorrow? Existence is to all a vain thing, the same essential mon Human life is a process of education. This is a very familiar truth or statement, but one always interesting to consider. For in this statement- more than in any other form · we may indicate, even if we are not able to complete the explanation of the mystery of our existence. Let it be observed, then, in the first place, that human life is a process of education by facts. Of all creatures, man has the most to learn. His instincts are more slender than those of the brute; at least, his destined field of action is much larger. He is more scantily endowed with power than any other, because more than any other, he is to acquire power. Thrown upon the charity of nature, who so weak as he? who so helpless? Naked and defenceless he stands, and from the rugged elements around him he must gather the materials of his existence · his raiment, shelter and daily bread. Made a little lower than the angels-ordained to have dominion over all things upon the earthwhere is the sceptre of his empire? where is the instrument with which he is to achieve and rule? All this is confirmed by a faculty within him which is developed by every manifestation of truth. Therefore as a being for whom "knowledge is power," life is for man an education by facts. Nature comes to him as his daily teacher. She sets before him her treasures of wonder and of beauty. She puts into his hand the key of her dominions, and tempts him to explore. So an immense process of education, without book or oral teaching, goes on in the very first years of our being upon the earth. Mysterious is the method by which the human mind is taught, and by which it assimilates the meanings of the world. More is learned — so we are told — in those early years than in all after time. And, yet, all the after time is a process of teaching and of learning. The universe is never exhausted. Facts that are hidden from the boy are opened to the man. New shores new climates excite his curiosity. The world beneath him reveals her "sumless treasures," and above him bursts into infinitude. other branch of study, indicate a process of education by facts which involves results greater than the facts. And, thus, as ministering unto and strengthening the inward faculty as inspiring man with power to use the world and to rise above the world - each lovely phase of nature, and every gliding season, is beautiful in its time. Human life is, also, a process of education by experience. And this is a profounder result than the mere accumulation of facts. For these are of little value when simply labelled and packed away in the memory. They are useful only so far as they educate and develope the soul. They are useful as they become assimulated to ourselves, And the most important lessons which we learn in life, are those which we gather not from the contemplation of nature, not from books or tradition, but from our own action and our own suffering. The boy raw from college; cramed with school culture; what is he in respect to ripe manliness and essential pled with the realities and encountered the shocks of the world? Let us not depreciate the school culture. It will prove to be far better than ignorance for the man, when he goes out among the realities of life. But when he does go among them, and when he goes deep, he will look back with wonder that he once thought he had finished his education, when he had only just commenced it. And we may take this process of perpetual revelation as indicative of a great purpose in human life. For this process does not end when man has learned enough to be able to use the materials of his earthly existence. New truth continually summons him, while he presses far beyond the barriers of what is commonly called "utility." The astronomer, with his telescope piercing the embankment of distant worlds; the philosopher unwind-power, compared with one who has grap ing the tissues of the light; the adventurer driving his keel through unknown seas! why what means this quenchless thirst for knowledge? What means it but that the faculty of knowledge is enduring and immortal? Thus every fact educates something which is greater than the fact. The benefit which knowledge confers upon the human mind, is not simply the benefit of information, adapted to some particular end or use; but it consists in an influx of general power, of larger life to the mind itself. Not only are the practical fruits increased, but the soil itself is made richer. A man, for instance, who studies the science of geology, not only learns where to find lime, and coal, and silver, but all the facts thus laid bare to him open a new field of thought. The contemplation of that wondrous method of world-building, that profound past, those catacombs of perished life, those hireoglyphics of departed dynasties, touches the inward springs of mode and admiration, widens his conception of the universe, and, in one word, makes him to be more in proportion as he knows more. All the illustrations that may be drawn from this, or from any Yes, the profoundest lessons of life are lessons of experience. Rich deposits of knowledge left by the waves of time and circumstance; muscles of individual power developed by moral effort, assisted by devotion and faith; spiritual seeds winnowed by winds of adversity; immortal lines cut into the soul by the sharp graver of sorrow; each beautiful in its time. And, how much light is thrown upon the dark passages of existence by these disciplinary results of experience. If man has been created not merely to be happy, but to grow in spiritual power and substance-if life never was intended for a mere garden, but for a school, then disappointment, pain, and sorrow are not anomalies in the universe of a wise and good God. Rather are they the consistent agents of His plan, -teachers whose very vigor constitutes their efficiency. Doubtless, prosperity is a divine teacher also. And how much it would teach us that often we do not comprehend, or will not heed. What lessons of gratitude, what incentives to repentance and obedience come to us in those painless days, those nights of undisturbed repose! But has this experience of prosperity made us no wiser and better? Has it brought us no nearer to God? Then, surely, believing the ends of life to be what we have taken them to be it is entirely consistent with these ends that a sterner teacher should take its place - dashing the cup of bliss from the hand, breaking down the walls of security, and by rousing us from our dream of self-congratulation, convince us of our dependence and our need. Or, even if we have profited by the experience of prosperity, adversity has lessons of its own. The experience of sorrow, for instance, out of this comes clearness of vision; in this strike deep the roots of fortitude and power. To the hearts of thousands it has been like the stroke of Moses upon Horeb, laying open a rocky indifference, and letting the healing waters gush; or they have felt it like the touch of an angel among the finer chords of their nature, awaking all its tenderness, its sympathy, its sweet, immortal love. Or it has come cheering the soul with awe, until that soul has realized that it has dealings with God, or, as dear forms have vanished from the sufferer's sight they lifted the curtains of the invisible world, and now the starry prospect shines down upon that earthly journey for evermore. But, whether by joy or by sorrow, or by whatever event human life affords the education of experience. "A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to get and a time to lose," here are the old inevitabilities; here are the alternations upon which plays the shuttle that has woven the history of all past lives. We call up those vanished forms. We array them in their own costume, and set them about their usual transactions. We replace them in their shops, their churches and their streets. And we ask-"Can it be possible that life was ever to them such an intense reality as it now is to us?" Even so; and to ourselves, as to them, life is bringing, life will bring, the same essential experiences. Here, then, we have the knowledge that comes by facts, and the discipline that is wrought by experience. But, in this process of human education one othe element is to be considered. We cannot live wisely by what we see with our fleshly eyes, or by what we know in our immediate consciousness. Every step we take, every effort we put forth, involves an element that takes hold of the unknown and the unseen the element of faith. Indeed, our confidence in what we do know, and in what we do see, is grounded in faith. This is not only the end of all knowledge, but it is also the starting-point of all knowledge In explaining the world of facts, we begin by assuming something. We begin by assuming the integrity of our faculties, and the existence of the facts. And if thus the very structure of fact itself leans on faith; we also need its help in the discipline of experience. For, with the clearest light that has fallen upon the strange passages of life, how much is still a mystery! In these we have achieved calmness, or even victory, only because we believe and trust. If life teaches us by experience, experience itself teaches us faith. Perhaps, indeed, we might say that of all the lessons which we learn here in this mortal state, this lesson of faith is chief. The great system of things seems adapted to this. We see something, but we do not see all. Enough is revealed to guide us, not enough to satisfy. And the richest treasures of life are in the keeping of faith. There the sorrowful soul has left them; there the weary heart finds them; and so they gather strength in their labor, and calmness in the midst of tears. May it not be said, too, that faith is the characteristic which most pleases God? For this a blessing has come upon patriarchs, apostles and martyrs; and " without faith," indeed, "it is impossible to please Him." In the world around us He shows not everything in the sharp outlines of knowledge, but leaves ample scope for trust. And christianity THE PORTRAIT. Through all these years to help my heart, Did I dream that it could be, Be all that was left of thee? Eyes, eyes, turn once again at my call, Shine out of your long eclipse; Each thing beautiful in its time facts and experiences, revelations and myster-0, eyes, look into me once again ies, would lead us all the philosopher in the pride of his science, as well as the unlearned, and the little child—to take hold of the Father's hand, and to trust the wisdom and the goodness in whose bosom we are carried along. Surely, that is a sublime element of life's education that The beautiful love of yore, Flash through the clouds of my haunted brain gives us vision beyond this life, that lifts Dark eyes, turn once again at my call, And breathe, in the old familiar tone, The music I long to hear, For, O, since those lips a voice have known, 'Tis many a weary year. Well I remember their parting sigh,— How a single feeble breath, And left me alone with death. Thou shadow of sweet mortality, Hung between me and the sky, As those of the olden days, |