A city is not builded in a day.
A city is not builded in a day.
Nature comes home to one most when he is at home the stranger and traveler finds her a stranger and traveler also. One's own landscape comes in time to be a sort of outlying part of himself he has sowed himself broadcast upon it, and it reflects his own moods and feelings he is sensitive to the verge of the horizon cut those trees, and he bleeds mar those hills, and he suffers. How has the farmer planted himself in his fields builded himself into his stone walls, and evoked the sympathy of the hills by his struggle This home feeling, this domestication of nature, is important to the observer. This is the birdlime with which he catches the bird this is the private door that admits him behind the scenes.
Not houses finely roofed or the stones of walls well builded, nay nor canals and dockyards make the city, but men able to use their opportunity.
When the voice of your friend or the page of your book sinks into democratic equality with the pattern of the wallpaper, the feel of your clothes, your memory of last night, and the noises from the road, you are falling asleep. The highly selective consciousness enjoyed by fully alert men, with all its builded sentiments and consecrated ideals, has as much to be called real as the drowsy chaos, and more.
The hand that rounded Peter's dome, And groined the aisles of Christian Rome, Wrought in a sad sincerity Himself from God he could not free He builded better than he knew The conscious stone to beauty grew.
The fields from Islington to Marybone, To Primrose Hill and Saint John's Wood, Were builded over with pillars of gold And there Jerusalem's pillars stood.
How shall I a habit break As you did that habit make As you gathered you must loose As you yielded, now refuse. Thread by thread the strand we twist Till they bind us neck and wrist Thread by thread the patient hand Must untwine ere free we stand As we builded stone by stone, We must toil, unhelped, alone, Till the wall is overthrown.
Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven pillars.
It is trial that proves one thing weak and another strong. A house built on the sand is in fair weather just as good as if builded on a rock. A cobweb is as good as the mightiest cable when there is no strain upon it.
And was Jerusalem builded here Among dark Satanic mills.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories