Heinlein, Robert A The Worlds of Robert A Heinlein
Carol A Freeman As The Eagle Cries Sharon's Journey Home (pdf)
Janrae Frank Journey of Sacred King 01 My Sister's Keeper
Iding Laura MiśÂośÂć to za maśÂo
Susan Ee Angelfall 02 Penryn i śÂwiat Po
Poematy
Alan Burt Akers [Dray Prescot 07] Arena of Antares (pdf)
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Jeffries Sabrina Taniec zmysśÂów Stare panny Swanlea 04
Howard, Robert E Conan el Cimmerio
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violinist's natural and habitual jealousy destroyed his peace of mind.
"Unhappiness seems the common lot," thought Ayrault. "Earth cannot give that
joy for which we sigh.
Poor fellows! though you rack my ears and distress my heart, I cannot help you
now."
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Chapter 3.13
THE PRIEST'S SERMON.
It being the first day of the week, the morning air was filled with chimes
from many steeples.
"Divine service always comforted in life," thought Ayrault, "perchance it may
do so now, when I have reached the state for which it tried to prepare me."
Accordingly, he moved on with the throng, and soon was ascending the heights
of Morningside Park, after which, he entered the cathedral. The priest whose
voice had so often thrilled him stood at his post in his surplice, and the
choir had finished the processional hymn. During the responses in the litany,
and between the commandments, while the congregation and the choir sang, he
heard their natural voices as of old ascending to the vaulted roof and
arrested there. He now also heard their spiritual
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A Journey in Other Worlds
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voices resulting from the earnestness of their prayers. These were rung
through the vaster vault of space, arousing a spiritual echo beyond the
constellations and the nebulae. The service, which was that of the
Protestant Episcopal Church, touched him as deeply as usual, after which the
rector ascended the steps to the pulpit.
"The text, this morning," he began, "is from the eighth chapter of St. Paul's
Epistle to the Romans, at the eighteenth verse: `For I reckon that the
sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared to the glory
that shall be revealed in us.' Let us suppose that you or I, brethren, should
become a free and disembodied spirit. A minute vein in the brain bursts, or a
clot forms in the heart. It may be a mere trifle, some unexpected thing, yet
the career in the flesh is ended, the eternal life of the liberated spirit
begun.
The soul slips from earth's grasp, as air from our fingers, and finds itself
in the frigid, boundless void of space. Yet, through some longing this soul
might rejoin us, and, though invisible, might hear the church-
bells ring, and long to recall some one of the many bright Sunday mornings
spent here on earth. Has a direful misfortune be
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fallen this brother, or has a slave been set free? Let us suppose for a moment
that the first has occurred.
`Vanity of vanities,' said the old preacher. `Calamity of calamities,' says
the new. That soul's probationary period is ended; his record, on which he
must go, is forever made. He has been in the flesh, let us say, one, two,
three or four score years; before him are the countless aeons of eternity. He
may have had a reasonably satisfactory life, from his point of view, and been
fairly successful in stilling conscience. That still, small voice doubtless
spoke pretty sharply at first, but after a while it rarely troubled him, and
in the end it spoke not at all. He may, in a way, have enjoyed life and the
beauties of nature. He has seen the fresh leaves come and go, but he forgot
the moral, that be himself was but a leaf, and that, as they all dropped to
earth to make more soil, his ashes must also return to the ground. But his
soul, friends and brethren, what becomes of that? Ah! it is the study of this
question that moistens our eyes with tears. No evil man is really happy here,
and what must be his suffering in the cold, cold land of spirits? No slumber
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or forgetfulness can ease his lot in hades, and after his
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condemnation at the last judgment he must forever face the unsoftened
realities of eternity. No evil thing or thought can find lodgment in heaven.
If it could, heaven would not be a happy place; neither can any man improve in
the abyss of hell. As the horizon gradually darkens, and this soul recedes
from God, the time spent in the flesh must come to seem the most infinitesimal
moment, more evanescent than the tick
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A Journey in Other Worlds of a clock. It seems dreadful that for such short
misdoings a soul should suffer so long, but no man can be saved in spite of
himself. He had the opportunities -- and the knowledge of this must give a
soul the most acute pang.
"In Revelation, xx, 6, we find these words, `Blessed and holy is he that hath [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
