Beatyfam
• Jun. 9, 2009 - For mothers....
"Men say that into the strings of some old Cremona violin the life of the master who once played upon it has passed, so that it as an impersonal soul, breathing out at every skillful touch. This is only a beautiful poetic fancy. But when a little child in its mother's bosom is loved, nursed, caressed, held close to her heart, prayed over, wept over, talked with for days, weeks, months, years, it is no mere fancy that the mother's life has indeed passed into the child's soul. What it becomes is determined by what the mother is. The early years settle what its character will be, and these are the mother's years.
O mothers of young children, I bow before you in reverence. Your work is most holy. You are fashioning the destinies of immmortal souls. The powers folded up in the little ones that you hushed to sleep in your bosoms last night are powers that shall exist forever. You are preparing them for their immortal destiny and influence. Be faithful. Take up your sacred burden reverently Be sure that your heart is pure and that your life is sweet and clean. The Persian apologue says that the lump of clay was fragrant because it had lain on a rose. Let your life be as the rose, and then your child as it lies upon your bosom will obsorb the fragrance. If there is no sweetness in the rose the clay will not be perfumed. "
The Family
1882 |
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• Jun. 10, 2009 - Untitled Comment