Erring Quotes

“No one can convince a man of his erring ways as persuasively as experience.”

“Rescue the perishing, care for the dying,Snatch them in pity from sin and the grave;Weep o'er the erring one, lift up the fallen,Tell them of Jesus the mighty to save.”

“Be careful when power comes to thee also, lest thou too shouldst smite in thine anger or thy jealousy, for unconquerable strength is a sore weapon in the hands of erring man”

“Cheerfulness is as natural to the heart of man in strong health as color to his cheek and wherever there is habitual gloom there must be either bad air unwholesome food improperly severe labor or erring habits of life.”

“In Sing Sing Prison, in a ghastly white room stands a chair. Its parts are heavy joinings of oak, riveted and screwed together; its strong legs fastened to the floor with teeth and claws of steel. It bites into the marrow of men with fangs of fire. For this is the faldstool of bloody human justice, the prayer-chair of man’s vengeance upon man. Into it are strapped ... men who have killed other men. In it, for a high moral purpose, erring human lives are shocked across the barrier into night and the grave. - Edward H. Smith (1918)”

“Mother! what a world of affection is comprised in that single word; how little do we in the giddy round of youthful pleasure and folly heed her wise counsels. How lightly do we look upon that zealous care with which she guides our otherwise erring feet, watches with feelings which none but a mother can know the gradual expansion of our youth to the riper yours of discretion. We may not think of it then, but it will be recalled to our minds in after years, when the gloomy grave or a fearful living separation has placed her far beyond our reach, and her sweet voice of sympathy and consolation for the various ills attendant upon us sounds in our ears no more. How deeply then we regret a thousand deeds that we have done contrary to her gentle admonitions! How we sign for those days once more, that we may retrieve what we have done amiss and make her kind heart glad with happiness! Alas! once gone they can never be recalled, and we grow mournfully sad with the bitter reflection.”

“...In a case like this, the thing is (in my own opinion) to draw back upon oneself, and not to strive after any other being, not to relate the suffering, occasioned by both, to the cause of the suffering (which lies so far outside) but to make it fruitful for oneself. If you transfer what goes on in your emotion into solitude and do not bring your vacillating and tremulous feeling into the dangerous proximity of magnetic forces, it will, through its inherent flexibility, assume of its own accord the position that is natural and necessary to it. In any case, it helps to remind oneself very often that over everything that exists there are laws which never fail to operate, which come rushing, rather, to manifest and prove themselves upon every stone and upon every feather we let fall.So all erring consists simply in the failure to recognize the natural laws to which we are subject in the given instance, and every solution begins with our alertness and concentration, which gently draw us into the chain of events and restore to our will its balancing counterweights..."―from letter to Emanuel von Bodman Westerwede bei Bremen (August 17, 1901)”

“There was a warrior once who foughtAgainst man's subtlest, mightiest foe,And more than valiant deeds he wroughtT' effect th' enslaver's overthrow.But ah! how dread was his campaign,Forc'd in the wilderness to stray,Lone, hungry, stung with grief and pain,And thus sustain the arduous fray.Prompt at each call from place to place,'Mid sin's dark shade and sorrow's flow,He sped to save man's erring race,And bear for him the vengeful blow.But when his soldiers saw the strife,When imminent the danger grew,Though 'twas for them he pledg'd his life,Like dastards from the field they flew.Wearied, forsaken, still he strove,And gain'd the glorious victory;Yet such achievements few could move,To hail his triumpn 'beath the sky.Dying he conquer'd; yet at lastNo human honours grac'd his bier;No trumpet wail'd its mournful blast,No muffl'd drum made music drear.But when he dy'd the rocks were rent,The sun his radiant beams withheld,All nature shudder'd at th' event,And horror every bosom swell'd.E'en Death, fell Death! could not detainHim, who for man his life had given,He burst the ineffectual chain,And soar'd his advocate to heaven.”

“And a step backward, after making a wrong turn, is a step in the right direction.”