by Alfred Bryant
originally published in 1867
paperback; 309 pages
With those who believe that we are created for, and destined to another and a higher life than the present, there can be no question where our affections ought to be placed, and for what we ought to live. Life is a vapor which endureth for a little time and then passes away. We are like grass — "in the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut down, and withereth." Even the generations of men chase one another in rapid succession, as shadows over the plain, and continue not. How poor a thing is human life in itself considered. It is the future only — man's immortal destiny — which gives worth and dignity to his existence. It seems a folly, therefore, to be so in love and taken up with the present, as to neglect the future world. True wisdom dictates a different course. Casting our eyes prospectively along the vista of those eternal ages, through which we are successively to pass, we should aim so to live, that in the present we might lay the sure foundation for our highest welfare in the life to come.
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