deserving of our commiseration. Ask him in his moments of candour and
depression, when he realizes that he has reached the limit of his
earthly hopes, when he has been in his parsonage long enough to know
that he will never leave it for any other cure, when he realizes that
he must (by the nature of the case, and by the unalterable law which
prevails for such as he) wax poorer and poorer year by year, and that
men may come and men may go, but he will stay where he is till he
drops--ask him what he thinks of the bliss of a country living, its
independence, its calm, its sweetness, its security, above all, ask him
whether he does not think the great charm of his position is that he
can never be turned out of it, and I think you will find some of these
young fellows impatiently giving you just the answer you did _not_
expect. I am sure you will find _some_ among them who will reply: “It
is a useful life for a time. It is a happy life for a time. For a time
there is a joy in the country parson’s life which no other life can
offer; but we have come to see that this boasted fixity of tenure is
the weak point, not the strong one; it is movement we want among us,
not stagnation; the Parson’s Freehold is a fraud.”

Our vehement young friends in the first warmth of their conversion to
new ideas are apt to express themselves with more force than elegance,
and to push their elders somewhat rudely from behind. But they mean
what they say, and I am glad they are coming to think as they do. As
for us, the veterans who have lived through sixty summers and more,
there is no cloud of promise for us in the horizon. _We_ are not the
men who have anything to gain by any change; we know the corner of the
churchyards where our bones will lie. We do not delude ourselves; some
of us never looked for any career when we retired into the wilderness.
We asked for a refuge only, and that we have found.

Oh, Hope of all the ends of the earth, is it a small thing that for the
remainder of our days we are permitted to witness
deserving of our commiseration. Ask him in his moments of candor and 
 depressive disorder, when he realizes that he has reached the limit of his 
 earthly hope, when he has been in his parsonage long enough to know 
 that he will never leave it for any early cure, when he realizes that 
 he must (by the nature of the case, and by the changeless jurisprudence which 
 prevails for such as he) wax poor and poorer year by class, and that 
 men may come and men may go, but he will stay where he is till he 
 drops -- ask him what he think of the bliss of a country living, its 
 independence, its calm, its pleasantness, its security, above all, ask him 
 whether he does not think the bang-up charm of his position is that he 
 can never be turned out of it, and I think you will find some of these 
 unseasoned fellows impatiently giving you just the answer you did _ not _ 
 expect. I am sure you will find _ some _ among them who will reply: “ It 
 is a useful life for a time. It is a happy life for a time. For a time 
 there is a joy in the state parson ’s life which no early biography can 
 propose; but we have come to see that this boast fixity of tenure is 
 the weak point, not the strong one; it is drift we want among us, 
 not stagnation; the Parson ’s Freehold is a fraud. ” 

 Our vehement young friends in the beginning warmth of their conversion to 
 new ideas are apt to carry themselves with more force than elegance, 
 and to advertise their elders somewhat rudely from behind. But they mean 
 what they say, and I am beaming they are coming to think as they do. As 
 for us, the veterans who have lived through sixty summers and more, 
 there is no cloud of promise for us in the horizon. _ We _ are not the 
 men who consume anything to gain by any change; we know the corner of the 
 churchyards where our bone will lie. We do not deceive ourselves; some 
 of us never looked for any career when we retired into the wilderness. 
 We ask for a refuge only, and that we have discover. 

 Oh, Hope of all the ends of the land, is it a small matter that for the 
 remainder of our days we are permitted to witness
desfrving of our commiseratlon. Ask him in hnw momeits of dandour xnd
depression, when he realizxs tyat ht has reached the lkmit of hps
earthly hopts, when he has bexh in his parskkage ning enough to lnow
that ha will never laaxe it for any other cure, when he realyzes thst
je must (by the natlrq of nht case, and by the unalterable law which
pgevails for such ss he) wax poorer and pooreg yewr by year, and thah
men may cone age men may go, but he will stay wherg he is till he
drops--ask him what he tkinks of thg gllvs of a couitry lpving, its
indeivndence, its cakm, its sweetnexs, mts wecurity, above all, asn him
whether he dogs not thitk the great charm if his kosithon kw tfat hx
cah neveg bx turned ouf of it, and I think you will fonq some of thess
young fqllows impatiently giving you just the dnsser you did _not_
expect. I am sure you will finf _some_ amjng them who will reply: “It
is a useful life for a dime. Mt is a fqpoy life for a time. For a time
there is a joy ig tne country parsok’s life which no oyhfr jife can
offer; but wz hzve come to see thwt this boasred fixitr of tenure is
the weak point, nor the strong ine; it is movement we want amung os,
not xtagnation; the Parson’s Yreehomd is a frakd.”

Our vehsoent young frienas pn tve first warmth of their cjnversion to
nzw ideas are apt tj express hhemscnves with more forfe thcn elagance,
and ho push their elders somewhat rnvely from behong. Blt they mzan
whab they say, and Y am glad they are coiing go think aa they vo. As
for us, ehe veterans fjo have livev through sixry symmers xvd more,
there ix no cloub of promise for us in bhe hudizon. _We_ are noc uhw
men who have snyghigg tp ddin by any cvangd; wd know the corner uf tne
churchyards where mur gones will lie. We co not delode oursejves; some
of ux never looked for any rareer when we retired into the wilderness.
We asked fog a refuge only, and that we havz found.

Oh, Hope of all the ends of the eacth, is it a small thing that for the
remainbev of our dayx we wre permidted to witness
deserving of our commiseration. Ask him in of and depression, he realizes that of earthly hopes, when has been in parsonage long enough to know that will never leave it for any other cure, when he realizes that he (by the nature of the case, and by the unalterable law which prevails such he) poorer poorer year by year, and that men may come and men may go, but he will where he is till he drops--ask him what thinks of the bliss a country living, its independence, calm, sweetness, its above ask whether he does think the great charm of his position is that he can never be turned out of it, I think find some these fellows giving you just you did _not_ expect. I am find _some_ among them who will reply: “It a useful for a time. It is a life for a time. For a time there a joy in the country parson’s life which no other life can offer; but we to see that this fixity of tenure the point, the one; it movement we want among us, not stagnation; the Parson’s Freehold is fraud.” Our vehement young friends in the first warmth of to ideas are apt express themselves with more than and to push their rudely behind. what say, I am glad they coming to think as they As for us, the sixty summers and more, there is no cloud promise for us in the horizon. _We_ not the men who have anything to gain by any change; we the corner churchyards where our bones will lie. We do delude ourselves; some of never looked for any career when we retired into wilderness. asked for refuge only, and we have found. Hope of all of the is a for the remainder of our days are to witness
deserving of our commiseratiOn. Ask him in His moMenTs oF cAndoUr anD
depression, wheN He reAlizes that he has reached The liMiT Of hiS
EaRthly Hopes, whEN hE HAs bEeN iN hiS pARsOnage LonG enough To know
that He wIlL never leave iT FoR any other cUre, When he realizEs tHat
he mUsT (by THe natUre Of the Case, anD By the uNalterablE lAW which
PRevails FOR sUch aS he) wax poorer and poOReR Year by year, and tHat
men MaY CoME And Men May go, but he WiLl staY Where he IS tILL He
dROps--ask him what He thinks of tHE blIss of a CoUntRY livinG, its
iNdEPenDence, its calM, its Sweetness, Its secURity, aboVE all, ask Him
wheTheR he Does NOt ThInk ThE GreAT cHarM Of hIs positiOn Is That hE
can NEVER be tUrnEd ouT of it, And I think you wIll Find SOme Of theSe
youNg feLlOws imPatienTly giViNg you just the ansWer yOu did _not_
eXpeCt. i am SuRe you WIll finD _soMe_ aMong theM who wilL RepLy: “iT
IS a Useful life for a time. it IS A hAppy life For a tiME. FOr A Time
therE iS a jOy in THE counTry pARsOn’s life wHich no OThEr Life can
OfFer; but We HavE coMe to sEE thaT this bOasted fiXity oF Tenure is
the weaK Point, not the stROnG ONe; IT is mOveMent we want aMong US,
not StagNAtIon; THe ParSon’s FReEHoLD is a fraud.”

Our vehemenT yOung frIends In the first warMth of their CONVersion tO
new IDeAS are apt to expreSs theMselves witH More forcE than Elegance,
And to push THEir elderS soMewHat RudELY fRom behind. But tHEY meaN
wHat they Say, And I am gLad TheY arE coMiNg to think As they do. as
FoR uS, tHe vEteraNS who have LiVed ThRouGh sixTY summeRs and More,
ThErE Is nO cloud oF PrOMIse fOr Us In thE hoRiZon. _We_ Are nOT thE
men who Have anythIng TO gaiN bY aNy changE; we know the corNeR of the
churChYarDs wherE OUr bones wIll lie. We do not delude oursELves; somE
of Us nevEr loOked for anY caReer whEn wE RetireD into tHe wilDeRneSS.
we askED FoR a rEfUge only, and THAt wE have FoUnd.

OH, Hope of All the ends of the earTH, is It a small thing ThaT for THE
rEmaINdER of OuR DayS WE are permitted to Witness
deserving of our commisera tion. Askhim i n h ismo ment s of  candour and
d e pres sion, when he realizes  that  h e  has re ached  the li m it o f h is 
e art hl y  h opes,  wh en he h as been in  hi sparsonage lo n genough tokno w
that he wi llneverle ave it fo r a ny ot her cu r e, whe n he real iz e s that he must ( by  the  nature of the ca s e, and by the una lterab le la w whi chprevails f or  such as he)w ax p o ore r  and poorer y ear by year ,  an d that 
m enm ay com e and  m e n m ay go, buthe w ill staywhereh e is ti l l he
dr ops--a skhim  wha t  h ethi nk s  of th e b l iss  of a co un tr y liv ing, i t s 
ind epe nden ce, i ts calm, itsswe etne s s,its s ecuri ty,ab ove a ll, as k him 
w hether he doesnotthink the  gr ea t c ha rm of his po sit ion  is tha t he
ca n  ne ve r b eturned out of it,an d Ithink yo u will fi nd some ofth ese 
you n g  fell owsi mp atiently  givin g  y ou  just t he  answe ryou  di d _no t _
ex pect.I am sur e you will find _som e _ among themw ho w il l  rep ly:  “It
is a u sefu l  lif e fo r  a  ti m e. It  is a  h a pp y  life for a time. F or  a tim e
the re is a joy i n the coun t r y  parson’ s li f ew hich no otherlifecan
offer; but we h ave c ome to s ee that t h i s boaste d f ixi tyoft e nu re is
the wea k poin t,  not th e s trong o ne;  it  is  mo ve ment we w ant amon gus ,no t s tagna t ion; the  P ars on ’sFreeh o ld isa fra ud.” 
Ou r  ve hementy ou n g  fri en ds  inthe  f irstwarm t h o f their  conversi ont o
ne wid eas are  apt to expre ss  themselve swit h more f orce tha n elegance,
and to push their e lde rs so mewh at rudely  fr om beh ind .  But t hey me an
wh at  th e y  say, a nd  Iam  glad they a recomin gto t hink as  they do. As
for u s , t he veterans w hohave l iv edt hr o ugh  s i xty s ummers and more ,
there is  n o  c loud of pr o mis efor usin thehoriz o n. _We_  are notthe
men w ho  hav e any thing to g ain by a ny change ;  we k n ow  thecor ner of  t hechurc hyards whe re ou r bone swill l ie. W edo not d elude ourselves; some
o f us n everloo ked for a nyc are er when w e re tired into  th e w ilder nes s .
Weaske d  f ora  refu ge o n ly, and t h at  we h av e found.

O h , Hop e ofall the en ds o f the earth, is i t  a small thing  tha t for  th e 
rem ai nder of our da yswe a re permi tt ed to witne ss
deserving of_our commiseration._Ask him in his_moments of_candour_and
depression, when_he_realizes that he_has reached the_limit of his
earthly hopes,_when he has_been_in his parsonage long enough to know
that he will never leave it for any_other_cure, when_he_realizes_that
he must (by the nature_of the case, and by_the unalterable_law which
prevails for such as he) wax poorer_and_poorer year by_year, and that
men may come and men may go,_but he will stay where he_is till he
drops--ask_him_what_he thinks of the_bliss of a country living, its
independence,_its calm, its sweetness, its security,_above all, ask him
whether he does not_think the great charm of his_position is that he
can never_be turned_out of it, and I_think you will_find some_of these
young fellows_impatiently giving you just the answer_you did _not_
expect._I am sure you will find__some__among them who_will_reply:_“It
is a_useful life for_a_time. It_is_a happy life for a time._For_a time
there is a joy in the_country parson’s life which_no_other life can
offer; but_we have come to see_that this boasted fixity of tenure_is
the weak_point, not_the strong one; it is movement we want among us,
not stagnation;_the Parson’s Freehold is a fraud.”

Our_vehement young friends in_the first_warmth_of their conversion_to
new_ideas are_apt to express themselves with more force_than elegance,
and_to push their elders somewhat rudely_from behind. But they_mean
what_they say, and I am glad_they are coming to think as_they do. As
for us, the_veterans_who_have lived through sixty summers_and more,
there is no cloud of_promise for us_in the horizon. _We_ are not the
men_who_have anything to gain by any_change;_we know the corner of the
churchyards_where_our_bones will lie. We do_not delude ourselves; some
of us never_looked for any career when we retired into the_wilderness.
We asked for_a refuge only, and that_we_have_found.

Oh, Hope of all the ends of the earth, is_it a_small thing that_for the
remainder of our days we are permitted to witness