It Is The End Of Art To

Religion, In One Sense, Is A Life Of Self-denial, Just As Husbandry, In One Sense, Is A Work Of Death.

It Is The End Of Art To Inoculate Men With The Love Of Nature. But Those Who Have A Psssion For Nature In The Natural Way, Need No Pictures Nor Gallereies. Spring Is Their Designer, And The Whole Year Their Artist.

Now Comes The Mystery.

It Is Not Work That Kills Men; It Is Worry. Work Is Healthy; You Can Hard Put More Upon A Man Than He Can Bear. Worry Is Rust Upon The Blade. It Is Not The Revolution That Destroys The Machinery, But The Friction.

Many Will Say, "i Can Find God Without The Help Of The Bible, Or Church, Or Minister." Very Well. Do So If You Can. The Ferry Company Would Feel No Jealousy Of A Man Who Should Prefer To Swim To New York. Let Him Do So If He Is Able, And We Will Talk About It On The Other Shore; But Probably Trying To Swim Would Be The Thing That Would Bring Him Quickest To The Boat. So God Would Have No Jealousy Of A Man's Going To Heaven Without The Aid Of The Bible, Or Church, Or Minister; But Let Him Try To Do So, And It Will Be The Surest Way To Bring Him Back To Them For Assistance.