We knew a mother who was greatly given to scolding her sons and daughters. She not only was continually picking and nagging, but at times she would go into a perfect fury with them.
She lost five of these children, and begged every one of them on their deathbeds to forgive her.
After they were in the cemetery, she lived in memory over their lives again, beholding continually the wounds she had inflicted upon them with her uncontrollable tongue, and her agony was frightful to contemplate.
We know of a man who lived in a lonely country neighborhood, and when in absence of help had to dress the body of his son for the coffin. In turning the corpse he caught sight of great marks and stripes on the back which he had put there with a cowhide in one of his merciless whippings.
His own suffering at the sight can be easily imagined.
Yet there are crueler blows than those which come from a whip. There are wounds made by the fretful, impatient and angry tongue which never seem to heal. The victim may be removed from sight. The face we shadowed and grieved may rest quietly under the sod of some country church-yard or city cemetery, but the recollection of the pained, suffering look that was cast upon us as we wielded the lash-like tongue, we can never forget. The marks were not only left on them, but seem to abide with us.
Not only then for our increased influence for good; and not only for the happiness of others with whom we are associated; but for our own souls sake we see why the Bible tells us to Be patient toward all men.
Living Illustrations By B. Carradine.
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