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Wisdom of the Ages

By George A. Fuller

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XVIII

How beautiful is Life!

Radiant with the attributes divine!

How beautiful in its morning time,

When the jewels of innocence and purity sparkle upon its brow!

How sweet the prattle of childhood, like the murmur of the laughing brook!

Tireless its outgoing, and tireless its incoming;

For the springs of life are near whence it is perpetually fed.

Rosy-tinted are thy visions, for thy young heart yet knows no guile.

Thy breath is as fragrant as the air of morning, for thou hast brought with thee the odors of innumerable celestial flowers.

Indeed, thou art an angel from some distant star. Earth is not thy home, only thy resting place for a morning and an evening of thy life.

 

How beautiful is Life!

Radiant with attributes divine!

How beautiful in those days that give expression to perfected manhood and womanhood.

Reason, like a star, sitteth upon thy brow, and Love guideth the every act of thy hands.

Thy limbs have the strength of giants, and thy body the beauty and loveliness of a god.

Thy intellect scintillates afar its rays of light, for knowledge is the crown that graces thy brow.

Thy feet are upon the earth, but thy head towers aloft where heavenly breezes are ever playing.

Indeed, thou art a god given human expression, for in thee only that which is noblest and best finds a lasting abiding place.

 

How beautiful is Life!

Radiant with attributes divine!

When the snows and frosts of many winters have settled upon thy head, and the outer shell worn so thin that the pure white light of the spirit permeates and radiates through it all, how much more beautiful than e’er before thou art become, oh, Life!

Thy beauties now are all of the spirit. Thy life nearer the ideal thou hast ever been chasing throughout the long journey that lies behind thee.

A ripened sheaf; yea, thou art indeed a garner house of divinest wisdom.

The glory of a new day like a halo rests upon thy brow, and thine eyes are wistfully gazing towards the sunset for some sign or token that thy faithful spirit nears its home.

The music thy soul hears is not that of earth, but of voices long lost to thine earthly hearing, calling thee to thy home in the heavens, the well-merited reward of a life that has been well and nobly spent.

 

How beautiful is Life!

Radiant with attributes divine!

With tear-dimmed eyes we watch thee as amid the glories of the upper ethers thou meltest from our sight.