brief is the whole period of our mortal life, when longest, though its
transactions are to us fraught with endless and awful consequences!

Another characteristic of those moments in life is the silence with
which they may come and pass away. No "sign" may be given to indicate
their importance to us. They do not announce their approach with the
sound of a trumpet, nor demand with a voice of thunder our immediate
and solemn attention to their interests; but stealthily, quietly, with
noiseless tread like spirits from another world, they come to us, put
their question, speak the word, and vanish to heaven with our reply.
In after years, possibly, with "the long results of time" to guide us
upward as by a stream to the tiny threads of this fountain of life
and action, we may be able in a greater degree to realise of what
tremendous importance they were to us. "Had we only known this at the
time!" we exclaim, as we revolve those memories, and think of all we
would have said or done;--"had we only known!" But it is not God's
will that we should know how much of the future is involved in the
present, or how all we shall be is determined by what we may resolve
to be or do at any particular moment. Such a revelation would paralyse
all effort, and destroy the mainspring of all right action. Sight
would thus be substituted for faith; the fear of evil consequences
for the fear of evil; and the love of future benefits for the love of
present duty. God will have us rather cultivate habitually a right
spirit at each moment, so as to be able to act rightly when the
all-important moment comes, whether we then discover its importance
or not. Let us not be surprised, then, if God comes to us, not in the
strong wind, the earthquake, or the fire, but only in the still small
voice which speaks to the heart or to the conscience, demanding
the conduct which becomes us as responsible beings and as obedient
children.