W. H. D. Rouse
speaker
684 appearances
1 recordings
1 series
first heard Aug 2026
last heard 1 Aug
W. H. D. Rouse’s voice in public audio — every appearance, attributed to the second.
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recordings per month · last 12 monthsRecordings per month over the last 12 months — 1 in all, peaking in Aug 2026 with 1.
Appearances
ripple and heave and break as little clouds when the wind goes through the sky and out of them thrust forth the little birds and after them the lilies for a moment living but even while hyacinth looked growing hard and reddish-brown and settling back into the sweet wood then the stranger smiled again and laid all the tools neatly in order and opening the door quietly went away into the woods
hyacinth lay still among the shavings for a long time and then he crept slowly to the door the sun not yet risen sent his first beams upon the delicate mists of frost afloat beneath the trees and so all the world was aflame with splendid gold
far away down the road a dim figure seemed to move amid the glory but the glow and the splendour were such that hyacinth was blinded his breath came sharply as the glow beat in great waves on the wretched shed on the foam of shavings on the cabinet with the little birds and the lilies carved at the corners he was too pure of heart to feel afraid
but blessed be the lord whispered ziathan clasping his slow hands for he hath visited and redeemed his people but who will believe then the sun of christ's day rose gloriously and the little sparrow came from his nest among the shavings and shook his wings to the light end of part seven
part eight of a christmas miscellany twenty twenty three by various authors this libervox recording is in the public domain part eight the lost word a christmas legend of long ago by henry van dyke i the poverty of hermas
come down hermas come down the night is past it is time to be stirring christ is born to-day peace be with you in his name make haste and come down
a little group of young men were standing in a street of antioch in the dusk of early morning fifteen hundred years ago it was a class of candidates who had nearly finished their two years of training for the christian church they had come to call their fellow-student hermas from his lodging
their voices rang out cheerily through the cool air they were full of that glad sense of life which the young feel when they awake and come to rouse one who is still sleeping there was a note of friendly triumph in their call
as if they were exulting unconsciously in having begun the adventure of the new day before their comrade but hermas was not asleep he had been waking for hours and the dark walls of his narrow lodging had been a prison to his restless heart a nameless sorrow and discontent had fallen upon him and he could find no escape from the heaviness of his own thoughts
there is a sadness of youth into which the old cannot enter it seems to them unreal and causeless but it is even more bitter and burdensome than the sadness of age there is a sting of resentment in it
a fever of angry surprise that the world should so soon be a disappointment and life so early take on the look of a failure it has little reason in it perhaps but it has all the more weariness and gloom because the man who is oppressed by it feels dimly that it is an unnatural and an unreasonable thing
that he should be separated from the joy of his companions and tired of living before he has fairly begun to live irmas had fallen into the very depths of this strange self-pity he was out of tune with everything around him he had been thinking through the dead still night of all that he had given up when he left the house of his father the wealthy pagan demetrius to join the company of the christians
only two years ago he had been one of the richest young men in antioch now he was one of the poorest and the worst of it was that though he had made the choice willingly and accepted the sacrifice with a kind of enthusiasm he was already dissatisfied with it
the new life was no happier than the old he was weary of vigils and fasts weary of studies and penances weary of prayers and sermons he felt like a slave in a treadmill he knew that he must go on his honor his conscience his sense of duty bound him he could not go back to the old careless pagan life again for something had happened within him which made a return impossible
doubtless he had found the true religion but he had found it only as a task and a burden its joy and peace had slipped away from him
he felt disillusioned and robbed he sat beside his hard little couch waiting without expectancy for the grey dawn of another empty day and hardly lifting his head at the shouts of his friends come down hermas you sluggard come down it is christmas morn awake and be glad with us
i'm coming he answered listlessly only have patience a moment i have been awake since midnight and waiting for the day you hear him said his friends one to another how he puts us all to shame he is more watchful more eager than any of us our master john the presbyter does well to be proud of him he is the best man in our class when he is baptized the church will get a strong member
while they were talking the door opened and hermas stepped out he was a figure to be remarked in any company tall broad-shouldered straight-hipped with a head proudly poised on the firm column of the neck and short brown curls clustering over the square forehead
it was the perpetual type of vigorous and intelligent young manhood such as may be found in every century among the throngs of ordinary men as if to show what the flower of the race should be but the light in his dark blue eyes was clouded and uncertain
his smooth cheeks were leaner than they should have been at twenty and there were downward lines about his mouth which spoke of desires unsatisfied and ambitions repressed he joined his companions with brief greetings a nod to one a word to another and they passed together down the steep street
Showing 241–260 of 684 · page 13 of 35
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