I dreamed a minister had decided to have an affair. It was a favorite minister
of mine and in the dream I might have been his wife. I didn't want to come out
and rebuke him and I remembered a book written by a famouse writer from the past
who talked about the dangers of affairs and how they can destroy a ministry. So
I decided to look for this book. I remembered I had put it in a bookcase near a
dumb waiter. But the house had so many bookshelves, crawl spaces, and
dumbwaiters that I couldn't quite find which one. The book was called "a cry for
hire." I looked everywhere for it. While lookign for it I came upon a world
behind the dumbwaiters where people had created a world behind the pulleys. They
still used the pulleys but never came out outside into the larger house. I think
they were aware of the larger world but didn't really care about it. They even
had raised children there and had different generations. One child had bad scars
or blemishes on his legs and I said to him, "you must go out into the sun." I
never found the book but when I woke up I went online and googled "a cry for
hire." I got nothing. There was no such title. But when I googled "cry for hire"
I got this:
True friends appear less mov'd than counterfeit; As men that grieve at funerals
are not so loud as those that cry for hire. ~ Horace
I was so surprised because I had never heard of the book/ode before and suddenly
here is the phrase! It reminded me of the time in college when I dreamed of
Sonnet 8 and figured I'd read it when I woke up. When I did it totally spoke to
my situation. Am not sure what counterfeit friends I may have or -- vice versa--
which folks I think don't love me but which really do. But it really blessed me.
In another dream I was thinking of Smith Wigglesworth's quote: "Oh, what a
merciful God we have! What a wonderful Jesus is ours! Are you oppressed? Cry out
to God. It is always good for people to cry out. Sometimes you have to cry out."
-- Smith Wigglesworth, Ever Increasing Fath.
I decided I would go to my room and cry out for my son's health and for mine.
I think I'll write a children's story about the pulley. A nice metaphor for we
Earthers and how we've forgotten where we came from.
THIS IS THE HORACE POEM IN ITS ENTIRETY. IT'S ABOUT NOT TRUSTING FOLKS WHO
PRAISE YOUR WORK. TRUST THOSE WHO TRY TO IMPROVE IT. ("f" replaces the "s" in
many of the words. Olde Englifhe.)
HORACE. ioi
Take leave of Wiae, and the foft Joys of Love:
And no Mufician dares pretend to Skill,
Without a great Expence of Time and Pains-,
But ev'ry little bufy Scribbler now
Swells with the Praifes which he gives himfeli ;
And taking Sanauary in the Crowd,
Brags of his Impudence, and looms to mend.
A Wealthy Poet takes more Pains to hire
A Flatt'ring Audience, than poor Trsdefmen i.'i
To perfuade Cuftomers to buy their Goods:
'Tis hard to find a M;m of great Eftate,
That can diftinguifh Flatterers from Friends.
Never delude your felf, nor read your Book
Before a brib'd and fawning Auditor.;
For he'll commend, and feign an Ecftafy,
Grow pale or weep, do any thing to pleafe; ^
True Friends appear lefs mov'd than Counterfeit 5
As Men that truly grieve at Funerals,
Are not fo loud as thofc that cry for Hire.
Wife were the Kings, who never chofe a Friend,
'Till with full Cups they had unmask'd his Soul,
And feen the Bottom of his deepeft Thoughts.
You cannot arm your fell with too much Care
Againft the Smiles of a defigning Knave.
&umtillius (if his Advice were ask'd)
Would freely tell you what you fliould correft,
Or (if you could not) bid you blot it out,
And with more Care fupply the Vacancy ;
But if he found you fond and obftinate
(And apter to defend, than mend your Faults)
With Silence leave you to admire your felf,
And without Rival hug your darling Book :
^^i HORACE.
The prudent Care of an impartial Friend
Will give you Notice of each idle Line;
Or'XeV""'^'""^' '^' what wants Ornament,
Make you explain all that he finds obfcure.
And wuh a flrift Enquiry, mark your Faults-
