- By Thomas K. Hervey R. Seymour

The Book of Christmas : Descriptive of the Customs, Ceremonies, Traditions,Superstitions, Fun, Feeling, and Festivities of the Christmas Season

  • Title: The Book of Christmas : Descriptive of the Customs, Ceremonies, Traditions,Superstitions, Fun, Feeling, and Festivities of the Christmas Season
  • Author: Thomas K. Hervey R. Seymour
  • ISBN: null
  • Page: 178
  • Format: Kindle Edition
  • The Book of Christmas Descriptive of the Customs Ceremonies Traditions Superstitions Fun Feeling and Festivities of the Christmas Season Some say that ever gainst that season comesWherein our Saviour s birth is celebrated This bird of dawning singeth allnight long Shakspeare To give a language to time for the preservation of its reco

    Some say, that ever gainst that season comesWherein our Saviour s birth is celebrated,This bird of dawning singeth allnight long Shakspeare.To give a language to time, for the preservation of its records and the utterance of its lessons, has been amongst the occupations of man from the day when first he found himself in its mysterious presence down to these latter ages Some say, that ever gainst that season comesWherein our Saviour s birth is celebrated,This bird of dawning singeth allnight long Shakspeare.To give a language to time, for the preservation of its records and the utterance of its lessons, has been amongst the occupations of man from the day when first he found himself in its mysterious presence down to these latter ages of the world and yet, all the resources of his ingenuity, impelled by all the aspirations of his heart, have only succeeded in supplying it with an imperfect series of hieroglyphics, difficult in their acquirement and uncertain in their use Ages upon ages of the young world have passed away, of which the old hath no chronicle Generations after generations of men have made their bed in the darkness, and left no monuments Of the crowded memorials reared by others along the stream of time, many and those 8 the mightiest are written in a cipher of which the key is lost The wrappings of the mummy are letters of a dead language and no man can translate the ancient story of the pyramid We have learnt to speak of time, because it is that portion of eternity with which we have presently to do, as if it were a whit intelligible less vague, abstract, and unimaginable than that eternity of which it is a part He who can conceive of the one, must be able to embrace the awful image of the other We think of time as of a section of eternity, separated and intrenched by absolute limits and thus we seem to have arrived at a definite idea, surrounded by points on which the mind can rest But when the imagination sets out upon the actual experiment, and discovers that those limits are not assignable, save on one only side, and finds but a single point on which to rest its failing wing, and looks from thence along an expanse whose boundaries are nowhere else within the range of its restricted vision, then does the mortal bird return into its mortal nest, wearied with its ineffectual flight, and convinced that a shoreless ocean and one whose shores it cannot see are alike formless and mysterious to its dim and feeble gaze.

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