Edwin Hubbel Chapin
Edwin Hubbel Chapin
Edwin Hubbell Chapinwas an American preacher and editor of the Christian Leader. He was also a poet, responsible for the poem Burial at Sea, which was the origin of a famous folk song, Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionClergyman
CountryUnited States of America
girl men careers
How often a new affection makes a new man! The sordid, cowering soul turns heroic. The frivolous girl becomes the steadfast martyr of patience and ministration, transfigured by deathless love. The career of bounding impulses turns into an anthem of sacred deeds.
eye mystery splendid
To me there is something thrilling and exalting in the thought that we are drifting forward into a splendid mystery-into something that no mortal eye hath yet seen, and no intelligence has yet declared.
stars moon light
Mercy among the virtues is like the moon among the stars ... It is the light that hovers above the judgment seat.
adversity fate cups
It is a great thing, when our Gethsemane hours come, when the cup of bitterness is pressed to our lips ... to feel that it is not fate, that it is not necessity, but divine love for good ends working upon us.
spiritual civilization cities
The city an epitome of the social world. All the belts of civilization intersect along its avenues. It contains the products of every moral zone. It is cosmopolitan, not only in a national, but a spiritual sense.
men evil cures
In the history of man it has been very generally the case that when evils have grown insufferable they have touched the point of cure.
life crucible life-is
Life is a crucible. We are thrown into it and tried.
self world martyr
There are daily martyrdoms occurring of more or less self-abnegation, and of which the world knows nothing.
despair depth reckless
Gaiety is often the reckless ripple over depths of despair.
heart poetry oracles
Poetry is the utterance of deep and heart-felt truth - the true poet is very near the oracle.
death dust soul
It is not death to have the body called back to the earth, and dissolved into its kindred elements, and mouldered to dust, and, it may be, turn to daisies, in the grave. But it is death to have the soul paralyzed, its inner life quenched, its faculties dissipated; that is death.
devil doe would-be
The devil has been painted swarthy, cloven-footed, horned, and hideous. Do we expect to see him in that shape? O, surely it would be better for us, if he did come in that shape! The trouble is the devil never does come in that shape. He comes by chance, with unregistered signals, and in all sorts of counterfeit presentiments.
men facts ghost
Most men are less afraid of ghosts than of facts.
family humanity littles
Break up the institution of the family, deny the inviolability of its relations, and in a little while there would not be any humanity.