|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from A treatise on Good Works by Dr. Martin Luther:
others, even the very least.
Now without doubt among the "least" are also those who are in sin
and spiritual poverty, captivity and need, of whom there are at
present far more than of those who suffer bodily need. Therefore
take heed: our own self-assumed good works lead us to and into
ourselves, that we seek only our own benefit and salvation; but
God's commandments drive us to our neighbor, that we may thereby
benefit others to their salvation. Just as Christ on the Cross
prayed not for Himself alone, but rather for us, when He said,
"Father, forgive them, fort they know not what they do," so we
also must pray for one another. From which every man may know
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Padre Ignacio by Owen Wister:
happened since. To-day the locomotive is whistling also from The Golden
Gate to San Diego; but still the old mission-road goes through the
mountains, and along it the footsteps of vanished Spain are marked with
roses, and broken cloisters, and the crucifix.
But this was 1855. Only the barkentine brought to Padre Ignacio the signs
from the world that he once had known and loved so dearly. As for the new
world making a rude noise to the northward, he trusted that it might keep
away from Santa Ysabel, and he waited for the vessel that was overdue
with its package containing his single worldly luxury.
As the little, ancient bronze bell continued swinging in the tower, its
plaintive call reached something in the Padre's memory. Softly, absently,
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Lemorne Versus Huell by Elizabeth Drew Stoddard:
at 7 A.M., and found her man James in conversation with the
milkman. He informed me that Miss Huell was very bad, and that the
housekeeper was still in bed. I supposed that Aunt Eliza was in bed
also, but I had hardly entered the house when I heard her bell ring
as she only could ring it--with an impatient jerk.
"She wants hot milk," said James, "and the man has just come."
I laid my bonnet down, and went to the kitchen. Saluting the
cook, who was an old acquaintance, and who told me that the "divil"
had been in the range that morning, I took a pan, into which I
poured some milk, and held it over the gaslight till it was hot;
then I carried it up to Aunt Eliza.