Vanity of Life

"As for man, his days are as grass; as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more." — Ps. 103. 15, 16.

And they are gone, the friends that once I knew;
I look in vain to find them; low and still
They coldly lie, shut out from human view,
And from the joys which erst their breasts could fill.
No more for them the rosy morn shall gleam,
Nor wild bird charm their ear at day's sweet close;
No more shall friendship soothe life's fevered dream,
And love's sweet voice allure them to repose.
But, oh, 'tis vain to murmur or bewail,
Dwells ought on earth, that long on earth shall be?
The columns of the world itself shall fail,
Its gorgeousness shall fade, its pomp shall flee.
'Tis a small thing to die, if we shall rise
In renovated bliss, unchanging in the skies.

— The Religious Offering (1835) Scripture Sonnets XXIII.

God's Friendship

Human friendships, resting on the changeable foundation of humanity, cannot be more stable, more enduring, than the frail foundation which supports them. They exist to-day; and too often are dissolved and scattered to-morrow. But he, who on Christian principles possesses God's friendship will never find him changing and different in future from what he is at present. He is a friend to-day, to-morrow, and for ever.

— Religious Maxims (1846) CLXXVIII.

Christlikeness: Personal Friendships

The Savior was susceptible of, and that he actually formed, to some extent, PERSONAL FRIENDSHIPS AND INTIMACIES. It would be unreasonable to doubt, that he had a sincere affection, analogous probably in its nature to the filial and fraternal affections in other cases, to his mother, his reputed father, and his brethren and sisters after the flesh. Certainly we have an evidence of this declaration in part, not only in the fact of his dwelling so long with them as he did; but in the circumstance that, when he was suspended in the agonies of the Cross, he commended his mother to the care of the disciple John. It would hardly be consistent with the doctrine of his humanity, and would certainly be at variance with the many developments of his life as the "son of man," to suppose that he did not form a strong, personal attachment to the little company of his disciples. It  is said expressly in especial reference to his disciples, "having loved his own, which were in the world, he loved them to  the end." It  is also explicitly narrated, that he loved Mary, and Martha, and Lazarus, the favored family of Bethany, whom he often visited. The disciple John, in particular, is characterized as the disciple whom Jesus loved. As he was set before us as an example, that we should follow him, this interesting trait, which resulted in the formation of friendly and affectionate intimacies, is what we should naturally expect to find in him. And furthermore, as one who came to suffer as well as to act, as a "man of sorrows and acquainted with grief," had he not some need even of human sympathy? And if this suggestion be well founded, where would he be disposed to look for the consolations, which even the sympathy of men is capable of affording, except in the bosoms of those, whom he loved peculiarly and confidentially?

Regulating Our Love

It is as necessary, in the progress and support of a holy life, to regulate our friendships and our love, (we mean here our love of creatures,) as it is to regulate our displeasure and anger. We may as really love too much and sin, as we may be displeased too much and sin. The holy mind may be said, with a degree of propriety, to stand in a state of indifference, relatively to  itself.  That is to say, it seeks nothing, desires nothing, loves nothing, is averse from nothing, and is angry with nothing, except in God's time and way, IN God and FOR God.

— Religious Maxims (1846) CXXXIX.

Vanity of Earthly Expectations

The autumn leaves, descending fast,
Are rent and scattered by the blast;
But not more sure they press the earth
Than fall the hopes of human birth.

See earthly pleasures pass away,
See health and loveliness decay,
And friendship's pledge, so warmly spoken,
No sooner made, than coldly broken.

Oh, place no expectations here,
To find them crush'd, however dear;
If thou canst trust the morning dew,
Then hope to find earth's promise true.

But live and look for that far clime,
Beyond the spheres of earth and time,
Where hopes that bloom shall perish never,
But bright to-day, are bright forever.

— American Cottage Life (1850).