Ever the right explanation remains to be made about prudence. The
prudence of the mere wealth and respectability of the most esteem'd
life appears too faint for the eye to observe at all, when little and
large alike drop quietly aside at the thought of the prudence suitable
for immortality. What is the wisdom that fills the thinness of a year,
or seventy or eighty years--to the wisdom spaced out by ages, and
coming back at a certain time with strong reinforcements and rich
presents, and the clear faces of wedding-guests as far as you can
look, in every direction, running gaily toward you? Only the soul is
of itself--all else has reference to what ensues. All that a person
does or thinks is of consequence. Nor can the push of charity or
personal force ever be anything else' than the profoundest reason,
whether it brings argument to hand or no. No specification is
necessary--to add or subtract or divide is in vain. Little or big,
learn'd or unlearn'd, white or black, legal or illegal, sick or well,
from the first inspiration down the windpipe to the last expiration
out of it, all that a male or female does that is vigorous and
benevolent and clean is so much sure profit to him or her in the
unshakable order of the universe, and through the whole scope of it
forever. The prudence of the greatest poet answers at last the craving
and glut of the soul, puts off nothing, permits no let-up for its own
case or any case, has no particular sabbath or judgment day, divides
not the living from the dead, or the righteous from the unrighteous,
is satisfied with the present, matches every thought or act by its
correlative, and knows no possible forgiveness or deputed atonement.
Pages:
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462