Age, Like Woman, Requires Fit

If We Tire Of The Saints, Shakspeare Is Our City Of Refuge.

We Ought To Be Cautious In Taking Even The Best Ascertained Opinions And Practices Of The Primitive Church For Our Own. If It Could Be Satisfactorily Shown That They Esteemed It Authorized And Transmitted Forever, That Does Not Settle The Question For Us. We Know How Inveterately They Were Attached To Their Jewish Prejudices, And How Often Even The Influence Of Christ Failed To Enlarge Their Views. On Every Other Subject Succeeding Times Have Learned To Form A Judgement More In Accordance With The Spirit Of Christianity Than Was The Practice Of The Early Ages.

The Socialism Of Our Day Has Done Good Service In Setting Men To Thinking How Certain Civilizing Benefits, Now Only Enjoyed By Theopulent, Can Be Enjoyed By All.

The Lover Never Sees Personal Resemblances In His Mistress To Her Kindred Or To Others. His Friends Find In Her A Likeness To Hermother, Or Her Sisters, Or To Persons Not Of Her Blood. The Lover Sees No Resemblance Except To Summer Evenings And Diamond Mornings, To Rainbows And The Song Of Birds.

No Reason Can Be Asked Or Given Why The Soul Seeks Beauty. Beauty, In Its Largest And Profoundest Sense, Is One Expression For The Universe. God Is The All-fair. Truth, And Goodness, And Beauty, Are But Different Faces Of The Same All.