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Updated: May 4, 2025
"Step lightly!" says a voice full of suspense and fear, despite its calmness. Step, indeed! As if I rest on those treacherous stones! My feet brush them no more than the wing of a butterfly grazes the roses among which it flutters. Step, forsooth! If ever the angels concerned themselves for this atom in Creation's myriads, they hover round me now, they bear me up, they teach me how to fly!
I cannot raise the dead, Nor from this soil pluck precious dust, Nor bid the sleeper wake, Nor still the storm, nor bend the lightning back, Nor muffle up the thunder, Nor bid the chains fall from off creation's long enfettered limbs.
Engine and tool of the Almighty, whose years cannot fade, thou changest the earth as a garment, and as a vesture it is changed; thou makest it one vast sepulchre and womb united, swallowing and creating life! and reproducing, over and over, from age to age, from the birth of creation to the creation's doom, the same dust and atoms which were our fathers, and which are the sole heirlooms that through countless generations they bequeath and perpetuate to their sons.
And does the Wisest Worker take Quick human hearts, instead of stone, And hew and carve them one by one, Nor heed the pangs with which they break? And more: if but creation's waste, Would he have given us sense to yearn For the perfection none can earn, And hope the fuller life to taste?
The King of Rivers, solemn calm and slow, Flows tow'rd the Sea yet fierce is seen to flow, On each fan Bank, the verdant Lands are seen, In gayest Cloathing of perpetual Green On ev'ry Side, the Prospect brings to Sight The Fields, the Flow'rs, and ev'ry fresh Delight His lovely Banks, most beauteously are grac'd With Nature's sweet variety of Taste Herbs, Fruits and Grass, with intermingled Trees The Prospect lengthen, and the Joys increase The lofty Mountains rise to ev'ry View, Creation's Glory, and its Beauty too.
Creation's wide field of animated existence inspires no such moodiness and fretfulness of spirit. It is all wrong; it is absolutely sinful. We have no moral right to make ourselves or others so unhappy. We were made for happiness as well as holiness. All life's duties and experiences, when properly understood, are the steps that lead to the temple of eternal good.
Planets, stars, stardust, earth, Volcanic bursts of doomsday cataclysms, Creation's molding furnace, Glaciers of silent x-rays, burning electron floods, Thoughts of all men, past, present, to come, Every blade of grass, myself, mankind, Each particle of universal dust, Anger, greed, good, bad, salvation, lust, I swallowed, transmuted all Into a vast ocean of blood of my own one Being!
Nothing but a combination of motives, more peremptory than the coal on the turtle's back, could have got me to leave the shelter of my carapace; and after memorable interviews, and kindest hospitalities, and grand sights, and huge influx of patriotic pride, for every American owns all America, "Creation's heir, the world, the world is"
How long'll it take to finish up thet air net, darter?" "Not much longer; but isn't it early to start, father? The ice is hardly broken up, is it?" "Waal, it's breakin' fast, Sairay; another day or two like this'll fetch it, an' it's 'first come best haul, ye know, nowadays, sence all creation's got to runnin' to the Banks.
There are positions in the world for which woman was not made. The finishing touches of creation's wondrous works were too delicate to fit her for the political arena, the command of armies, or the founding of empires. She was made for higher and holier ends than these. She is adapted to a work more noble and more enduring. Her empire is in the heart, and her scepter one of spiritual dominion.
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