THE QUIET HOUR.

Hawera Star, Volume XLV, 23 May 1925, Page 6

THE QUIET HOUR.

THE MORAL NEED OF WORK. There is a- moral danger of idleness even to good, people, making them undisciplined and fussy, easily taken up with petty things. St. Paul wrote, in indignation to the Thessal.onians, when he heard that some of them had given up their ordinary employments m the intensity of their religious feelings, “When we were with you, this we commanded you, that if any would not work neither should he eat.” Even in the. interests of so-called religion, to break off from the common task and nt of man meant disorder and unrest and all manner of evils. The express purpose of giving up work was to prepare by quiet contemplation for the coming of their Lord, but strangely enough the means taken for attaining that iimpose defeated itself. It was found* that those who gave up their ordinary occupations, instead of becoming more prayerful. and more peaceful in their faith, became busybodies, meddling with other people’s business, flighty and unsettled in their ways, a public* nuisance- to their quiet neighbours who were doing their own immediate duty It is one of life s little ironies that this should be so, and vet wa see how naturally it conies about. Having freed themselves from the restraint and discipline of common work, tliev only became more unsettled in their habits. Though their special design was to have greater opportunity to, grow more truly quiet in heart and life, the practical result was that they neither became quiet themselves nfcr would allow other people to be quiet. They became censorious of others, whose holiness was questioned since they went on with the customary fulfilment of duty. Apart from the subtle temptation which history shows us awaits all such attempts to reach sanctity by retirement from daily common work, there are many pressing temptations from the mere idleness St. Paul knew well that all sorts of moral disorders would arise from such a state of affairs; as the old couplet which was instilled into us in our childhood lias it with more truth than poetry, “Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do” to say nothing of the idle tongues! Idleness and fussiness, indeed, are commonly seen together. If we have found how to possess our soul amid all the duties of life,, we will never line! the secret by merely resigning from the place of duty.-V-Hngh Black.

THE DIGNITY OF WORK. In one of Murillo’s pictures in the Louvre, is shown the. interior of a convent kitchen; but doing the work there, are not mortals in old dresses, but beautiful, white-winged angels. One serenely puts the kettle on the fire Lo boil, and one is lifting* up a pail of water with heavenly grace, and one is at the kitchen dresser reaching up for the plates; and I believe there is a little cherub running about and getting in tlie way, trying to ,help. All are so busy, and working with such a will, and so refining the work as they do it, that somehow you forget that pans are pans, and pots are pots, and only think of the angels, and how very natural and beautiful kitchen work is—just what the angels would do, of course. —W. C. Gannett.

Made lowly wise, we pray no more For miracle, and sign; Anoint our eyes to see’ within The common, the divine. No longer in our helpleness, As pilgrims wor n and weak, In hopes to. reach. Thy presence, Lewd, Some, far-off shrine we seek. We turn from following Thee afar And in unwonted ways. To build from out our daily lives The temples of Thy praise. And if Thy casual comings, Lord, To hearts of old were clear, What joy should mingle with the faith That feels Thee ever near! And not the less shall hearts he pure Nor less shall worship be, When Thou art found i n all our life, And all our life in Thee. —F. L Hosmer. Not so long ago there was a researcher of art in Italy, who, reading in some book that there was a portrait of Dante painted by Giotto, was led to. suspect that he had found where it had been placed. There was an apartment used as an /outhouse for the storage of wood, hay, and the like. He sought the others and obtained permission to examine it. Clearing out the rubbish, and experimenting upon the whitewashed wall, he soon detected the signs of the long-hidden portrait. Little by little, with loving skill, he opened up the sad, thoughtful, stern face of the old Tuscan poet. Sometimes it seems to me that thus the very sanctuary of God has' been filled with wood,* hay, and stubble, and the divine lineaments of Christ have been swept over and covered by human plastering, and I am . seized with an invincible desire to draw forth from its hiding-place, and reveal to men, the glory of God as it shines in the face of Christ Jesus! It matters little to me what school of theology rises or what falls, so only that Christ may rise and appear in all His Father’s glory, full-orbed, upon the darkness of this world! —H. \\. Beecher.