Sublime and Ridiculous by A. E. Place

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · May 31, 1906

Sublime and Ridiculous

By A. E. Place

A. E. PLACE

One day I strolled down the street to the ocean. The mighty waves of the old Atlantic, much higher than usual by reason of the storm of days, were rising from dark-blue and green valleys and cresting themselves with foam, as if in anger or in glee. They raced forward on the wings of the wind, and with tones of thunder they dashed upon the rocky shore. Still on they rushed, climbing the hill of sand, and at times wetting the skirts of a grassy lawn, supposed to be beyond the reach of these briny racers. Then, as if not satisfied with their efforts, and anxious to do still more, they hastened back to join and give force to other majestic waves already surging forward to their doom. The receding billow seemed anxious to help the incoming and unconquered one to give out its strength, its beauty, and its life, even more heroically and grandly than its rival had done. What a sight to look upon! Both sight and sound awakened the meditation and admiration of my soul.

Suddenly a little dog appeared upon the scene. He came with loud barking, evidently intended to drown old ocean’s thunder. With menacing jumps which seemed to say as best they could, “O billows thus far shalt thou go and no farther; now shall thy proud waves be still!” he rushed at the bubbling, receding waters. As the next billow came marching grandly in to meet the little foe, he retreated, howling with anger, only to pursue again the receding tide. Thus the little fellow continued, not one minute, but five; not five, but ten; back and forth, back and forth, till his mouth foamed like the billows from which he ran. Duties called me away, but when I left, the tiny fellow was still barking, charging and retreating, only to charge and retreat again. The Atlantic still thundered on.

As I walked slowly up the street, I fell to musing upon the scene I had witnessed. With a smile I finally said to myself, “What a foolish dog! How insignificant is he with his puny efforts! How ridiculous for him to bark at old ocean, or to think he can drown its voice, or stay the onward march of its billows!” I mused again, and somewhat timidly asked myself the question, Am I a little dog? and is this great ocean the sea of life before me? Awakening from my reverie upon the weakness of man to cope, single handed, with the giant forces of this world, I heard once more the subdued tones of the ocean far behind. Lifting my eyes and heart, in confiding trust to him whose hand controls all the surges of life, whose voice is the only one which can bid any troubled, angry sea, “Be still,” I cried, “O sea of life, roll on! Roll on thou dark, deep ocean! Roll on, thou mighty waves with thy lessons so divine! Thy Master and my Father is above thee! I’ll bark no more at thy waves; at thy bubbling, briny waters, no more I’ll charge in human weakness, but more I’ll trust, and more I’ll pray.”

Boulder, Colo.