Eternity Has No Gray Hairs
"ETERITY HAS NO GRAY HAIRS."—The flowers fade, the heart withers, man grows old and dies, the world lies down in the sepulchre of ages, but time writes no wrinkles on the brow of eternity. Eternity! stupendous thought! the ever present now, unborn undecaying, and undying—the endless chain, compassing the life of God—the golden thread entwining the destinies of the universe. Earth has its beauties, but time shrouds them for the grave; its honors, they are but the sunshine of an hour; its palaces, they are but as the gilded sepulchres; its possessions, they are the toys of changing fortune; its pleasures, they are but bursting bubbles. Not so is the untried bourne. In the dwelling of the Almighty can come no footsteps of decay. Its day will know no darkening—eternal splendors forbid the approach of night. Its fountains will never fail—they are fresh from the eternal throne. Its glory will never wane, for there is the ever present God. Its harmonies will never cease; exhaustless love supplies the song.