Perfection is the child of time.

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the solemn words of Joseph Hall, the bishop and sage: “Perfection is the child of time.” In this saying lies a truth older than empires and deeper than oceans—that nothing noble, nothing enduring, nothing truly perfected is born in haste. All that reaches completion, whether in art, in virtue, or in human character, must first be carried, nurtured, and refined in the womb of time. Swift works may dazzle for a moment, but it is only patience that gives birth to greatness.

The origin of this thought flows from Hall’s meditations as a preacher and moralist of the seventeenth century. He lived in an age of turbulence—political conflict, religious strife, the rise of new sciences—yet he understood that truth and excellence cannot be forced in a single hour. His words echo the wisdom of the ancients, who saw in nature herself the proof of patience: the oak grows mighty only after centuries, the diamond is formed only after ages beneath the earth, and the soul itself is ripened only through the long journey of life.

Consider the cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris. It was not raised in a decade, nor in a single lifetime, but through centuries of labor. Each generation laid stone upon stone, carving its arches, lifting its towers, refining its beauty until it stood as one of the world’s marvels. Here is Hall’s truth made visible: perfection was the child not of haste, but of time. Had men sought to complete it quickly, it would have been crude and soon forgotten. Because they endured, it became immortal.

History also tells us of Michelangelo, who labored four years upon the Sistine Chapel. Day after day, he toiled in solitude, his body aching, his vision fixed upon the heavens he sought to paint. He might have rushed, but instead he endured the slow agony of detail. And so, what was born is not mere art, but a vision of eternity. His masterpiece whispers again: perfection is the child of time.

Yet Hall’s words do not speak only of stone and paint. They speak also of the soul. Virtue is not gained in a day, nor wisdom in a season. The man who seeks instant greatness falls into folly; but the one who endures hardship, who learns from failure, who allows the furnace of time to purify him, becomes strong, steady, and complete. Perfection of character, like the polishing of a gem, demands patience, endurance, and faith.

The lesson is clear: do not despise the slowness of your journey, nor despair that your work is unfinished. For all great things ripen in season. To rush is to ruin; to endure is to achieve. Let Hall’s words teach you to walk steadily, to build carefully, to live with patience. Do not seek the fleeting glory of speed, but the lasting strength of perfection born of time.

Practical counsel stands before you. When you labor, set your heart not on immediate applause but on enduring worth. When you seek wisdom, do not demand it in a single reading but gather it daily, as the ant gathers grain. When you strive for virtue, do not despair at your weakness, but remember that the soul grows stronger through long years of struggle. Trust in time, and let it be the silent craftsman that shapes you into perfection.

So let Hall’s saying echo in your soul: “Perfection is the child of time.” Carry it as a lamp against impatience, as a shield against despair. For though the hours may seem long and the work endless, know that time itself is your ally, and that what it mothers, if you endure, will be perfect. And in this truth, live with patience, with courage, and with unyielding hope.