1889 Watch Tower - A2Z.org

R1118 : page 7though he did not say it, that he would get "cold," like himself."And what are you?" inquired the young man. "I am anestablished Christian," was the answer. They drove on for sometime in silence, until they were somewhat roughly brought up bythe cart-wheel sticking fast in a deep rut. They got out to try andliberate it; the old man whipped the horse and spoke ratherforcibly, but all to no purpose; the wheel remained immovable.After one of the fruitless efforts, the young man looked at thefarmer and remarked, "I guess, my friend, it's got established."Similarly, there are some Christians who get into a deep rut, andstick there, and mistake their inactivity for establishedChristianity.--Selected.====================R1118 : page 7VALUE OF THE PRESENT LIFE.Is life worth living? What a question! Who would die? gladyouth replies, buoyant with hope, unfettered with care, the ruddycheek glowing with health, the eye sparkling with pleasure,--How sweet to be, to think, to move, to drink of joy on everyhand. Oh, who could part with life?Is life worth living? 'Tis youth again gives answer, but hope hasfled. The pale face, emaciated form, and sunken eye betokenaffliction's heavy hand, with days and nights of anguish andunrest. Oh what is life to me!--to be, and suffer. Life is asynonym of pain, and time means torture.And what has life for you, O man of riper years! busy from earlymorn till close of day. Has labor aught of joy that one shouldcare to live? Talk not to me of giving up to plan and do, gainingof knowledge, wealth, honor's wreath, and fame's fair title. "Tistrue, life has its trials, cares, its stormy days, but these are onlyfleeting shadows that serve to gild the intervening time withbrighter splendor. But again an answer comes from him who hasreached the meridian of life in our day. Misfortune on the righthand and the left. Life to me means toil for naught. Affectionhas no sooner settled firm around earth's fairest blossoms thandeath puts an end to all our cherished hopes. Friends are gainedbut to be lost again. Honor is a bubble to be bursted by the firstfoul breath of jealousy. The cup of pleasure scarce is lifted to thelips till dashed to earth again. To judge the future by the past,what has life in store that I should crave it?And what of life? 'Tis now the gray-haired veteran gives reply.The weight of years has bent the once proud form, furrowed thecheek and brow, and robbed the senses of their acuteness.Alone, and trembling on the verge of the grave, memory ofyounger days is all there is left of comfort. The days of the years