Our highest aspiration must wait. We are here to get through the world. Life is a road where we camp for a night on a journey to the golden gate and the setting sun; a traveler who sets up his tent at dark does not plant corn or put out a grape-vine, if when the morning comes he expects to pull his tent down and march on. Men are born upon the shore of one ocean; by traveling lightly and never losing a moment, and marching bravely on, through forest, over desert, mountain and river, the traveler can reach the other ocean in time to catch the little boat that slips out into the dark, and sails out of sight with God alone. But the traveler must not expect to plant harvests and grow vineyards while out upon his march. Yonder lie the happy hills of God. There no winter falls, there the summer sheds its warmth always upon the violet beds. There youth is perfect and beauty is eternal. There every ambition will be perfected, every dream realized; every hope turned to fruition, and the soul is a tree waving its fruit and casting down its purple vintage at the feet of the God of the summer. - N. D. Hillis.
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