[The speaker will have his clock to show, and at the close he might set it a-going. Of course he will bring out, by questions or otherwise, the truth that the great Hand back of all human ability is God.]
Here is a very pretty clock, children. The case is handsome and the face is handsome, but I think you will agree that the handsomest part of the clock is this pretty brass pendulum. Now this clock stopped, the other day, and I fancied a story to account for its stopping. I will tell you the story.
The pretty pendulum was very proud, and it got to talking to itself something after this fashion. “How important I am!” it cried. “Here am I, the most conspicuous part of the machinery of this wonderful clock. And see! I make all the machinery go. As I swing back and forth the wheels turn, and the cogs catch, and the striking-gong sounds, and the hands on the dial-plate move around.
“Besides, I am beautifully polished, and made of the finest brass, and hung in the most delicate way, and am of a most elegant shape. No wonder that people admire me.
“But why should such a fine creature as I am work all the time?” asked the foolish pendulum, and so it stopped, as I have said.
“Well,” remarked the wise old dial-plate, looking down and waving its hands at the foolish pendulum; “so you think yourself too good to work, eh?”
The pendulum did not condescend to answer, but the dial-plate kept right on.
“Let me tell you, Friend Pendulum, that you are not at all as important as you think. Indeed, you do not move the machinery at all, but our black and ugly Friend Weight, hidden in that dark corner. If you want to prove it, suppose you try to start up the machinery again.”
Stung by this, the pendulum tried, but all in vain. Not a wheel moved. Indeed, the pendulum could not even stir itself.
“But why did the machinery stop when I stopped?” asked the pendulum, haughtily.
“Foolish creature,” answered the dial-plate; “you stopped because the machinery stopped! Friend Weight has run down.”
“Well,” said the pendulum, pertly, “suppose you ask this mighty Weight, then, to start up the clock again, since he is so strong.”
“O, that he cannot do, either,” replied the dial-plate. “A great Hand comes and winds him up, and then he moves you, and my hands, and all the wheels of the clock. There’s no sense, Brother Pendulum, in either you or me or the Weight getting conceited. It is this great Hand that gives us all the strength to work, and we ought to do the best we can with the power he gives us, without pride or conceit.”
The pendulum was very thoughtful for a long time after this talk, and has not boasted at all since.