| Home Making |
Chapter 9 |
Page 7 |
There is one particular class of home memories of which a few words must be said. These are the memories we make in our intercourse one with another. Washington Irving wrote: “Ah! Go to the grave of buried love and meditate. There settle the account with thy conscience of every past endearment unregarded of that departed being who never, never can be soothed by contrition. If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affectionate parent; if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms to doubt a moment of thy kindness or thy truth; if thou are a friend, and hast ever injured by thought, word or deed the spirit that generously confided in thee; if thou art a lover, and hast ever given one unmerited pang to the true heart that now lies cold beneath thy feet, – then be sure that every unkind look, every ungenerous word, every ungentle action, will come thronging back upon thy memory and knock dolefully at thy soul; be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repenting on the grave and utter the unheard groan and pour the unavailing tear – bitter because unheard and unavailing.”
The continual remembrance of this truth would sweeten all our tones and give gentleness to all our actions in our home intercourse. If we only could keep in mind all the while how the memory of unkindness, bitterness or selfishness, one toward another, will pain our hearts when one is taken and the other left, it would be one of the mightiest of all motives for members of a family to dwell together in unity.
Page 7
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