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Life is a crucible. We are thrown into it and tried.

Edwin Hubbel Chapin

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Edwin Hubbel Chapin
Age: 65 †
Born: 1814
Born: December 29
Died: 1880
Died: January 1
Clergyman
Priest
E. H. Chapin
Edwin Hubbell Rev. Chapin
Life
Crucible
Thrown
Tried

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The productions of the press, fast as steam can make and carry them, go abroad through all the land, silent as snowflakes, but potent as thunder. It is an additional tongue of steam and lightning, by which a man speaks his first thought, his instant argument or grievance, to millions in a day.
Edwin Hubbel Chapin
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Objects close to the eye shut out much larger objects on the horizon and splendors born only of the earth eclipse the stars. So a man sometimes covers up the entire disk of eternity with a dollar, and quenches transcendent glories with a little shining dust.
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Whatever touches the nerves of motive, whatever shifts man's moral position, is mightier than steam, or calorie, or lightening.
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If one's conscience be dead as a stone, it is as heavy too.
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If you should take the human heart and listen to it, it would be like listening to a sea-shell you would hear in it the hollow murmur of the infinite ocean to which it belongs, from which it draws its profoundest inspiration, and for which it yearns.
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The golden age is not in the past, but in the future not in the origin of human experience, but in its consummate flower not opening in Eden, but out from Gethsemane.
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Truth is the root, but human sympathy is the flower of practical life.
Edwin Hubbel Chapin
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Life is a problem. Not merely a premiss from which we start, but a goal towards which we proceed. It is an opportunity for us not merely to get, but to attain not simply to have, but to be. Its standard of failure or success is not outward fortune, but inward possession.
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We have not the innocence of Eden but by God's help and Christ's example we may have the victory of Gethsemane.
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All evil, in fact the very existence of evil, is inexplicable until we refer to the paternity of God. It hangs a huge blot in the universe until the orb of divine love rises behind it. In that apposition we detect its meaning. It appears to us but a finite shadow as it passes across the disk of infinite light.
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Death, is not an end, but a transition crisis. All the forms of decay are but masks of regeneration--the secret alembics of vitality.
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The church-bells of innumerable sects are all chime-bells to-day, ringing in sweet accordance throughout many lands, and awaking a great joy in the heart of our common humanity.
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No language can express the power, and beauty, and heroism, and majesty of a mother's love. It shrinks not where man cowers, and grows stronger where man faints, and over wastes of worldly fortunes sends the radiance of its quenchless fidelity like a star.
Edwin Hubbel Chapin
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O, how much those men are to be valued who, in the spirit with which the widow gave up her two mites, have given up themselves! How their names sparkle! How rich their very ashes are! How they will count up in heaven!
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Glorify a lie, legalize a lie, arm and equip a lie, consecrate a lie with solemn forms and awful penalties, and after all it is nothing but a lie. It rots a land and corrupts a people like any other lie, and by and by the white light of God's truth shines clear through it, and shows it to be a lie.
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Public feeling now is apt to side with the persecuted, and our modern martyr is full as likely to be smothered with roses as with coals.
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Gaiety is often the reckless ripple over depths of despair.
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Modest expression is a beautiful setting to the diamond of talent and genius.
Edwin Hubbel Chapin
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Those old ages are like the landscape that shows best in purple distance, all verdant and smooth, and bathed in mellow light.
Edwin Hubbel Chapin
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Why, man of idleness, labor has rocked you in the cradle, and nourished your pampered life without it, the woven silk and the wool upon your bank would be in the shepherd's fold. For the meanest thing that ministers to human want, save the air of heaven, man is indebted to toil and even the air, in God's wise ordination, is breathed with labor.
Edwin Hubbel Chapin