p. 502 | The Home Circle by Charles H. Crandall

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Nov 9, 1882

The Home Circle.

By Charles H. Crandall

A PARABLE.

A sturdy stream flowed fast along, 'Twas merry as a mower's song; Its look was glad, its waves were bright And broke in drops of purest light. Over its surface, all the way, The blossoms bent in sweet array; It gave them kisses, cool and fleet, Which left them still more pure and sweet. This traveler was so kind and true That it would any service do; Though it enlisted every brook, It always gave more than it took; Thus lived a life of gracious giving And grew each day to greater living.

A pool of water, stagnant, still, Lay listlessly beneath a hill. It served no purpose save to nurse Vile weeds, which made its visage worse; For foulness was upon its face And beauty shrank from all the place. On Nature's fairness 'twas a blot, A most unwholesome, evil spot; And all because it idle lay, Contented in itself all day. Supplied by a few little rills, It locked them up among the hills, And, always asking, never giving, It daily died and thought it living.

Thus generous souls live like the first, But selfish ones die self-accursed. —Charles H. Crandall.