“Written in Early Spring” by William Wordsworth (1770–1850)

  I HEARD a thousand blended notes   While in a grove I sate reclined,  In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts  Bring sad thoughts to the mind.  To her fair works did Nature link  The human soul that through me ran;  And much it grieved my heart to think  What Man has made of Man.  Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower,  The periwinkle trail’d its wreaths;  And ’tis my faith that every flower  Enjoys the air it breathes.  The birds around me hopp’d and play’d,  Their thoughts I cannot measure,—  But the least motion which they made  It seem’d a thrill of pleasure.  The budding twigs spread out their fan  To catch the breezy air;  And I must think, do all I can,  That there was pleasure there.  If this belief from heaven be sent,  If such be Nature’s holy plan,  Have I not reason to lament  What Man has made of Man?

Death ends it all

An evangelist told the story about the atheist that said to him, “I do not believe what you are preaching.”

The evangelist replied, “You have told me what you do not believe; perhaps you will tell me what you do believe."

“I believe that death ends all.”

“So do I; shake on it.” And the evagelist thrust out his hand.

“What!” the atheist exclaimed. “You believe that death ends all?”

“I certainly do,” the evangelist answered.

The atheist said, “You are a strange Christian.”

“I am sure of that; there is none other like me in the world. As a Christian, I assert the belief that death ends all.” When the atheist said he had never heard such a thing, the evangelist added, “It is time you heard something new.”

“Death ends all your chance of doing evil. Death ends all your joy, all your projects, all your ambitions, all your friendships. Death ends all the Gospel that you will ever hear. Death ends all for you; then you go out into the outer darkness.

“Death ends all my wanderings, all my tears, all my perplexities, all my aches and pains. Death ends it all, and I go to be with my Lord in Glory.”

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