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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19193.txt b/19193.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fb9c5c4 --- /dev/null +++ b/19193.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5787 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Making the Most of Life, by J. R. Miller + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Making the Most of Life + +Author: J. R. Miller + +Release Date: September 6, 2006 [EBook #19193] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAKING THE MOST OF LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +Making the Most of Life + + +BY + +J. R. MILLER, D.D. + + + +AUTHOR OF "SILENT TIMES," "THINGS TO LIVE FOR," "BUILDING OF +CHARACTER," "THE GOLDEN GATE OF PRAYER," ETC. + + + + + "I am the Lord thy God + Which teacheth to profit." + ISAIAH. + + + + +New York + +THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. + +PUBLISHERS + + + + +Copyright, 1891, by T. Y. CROWELL & Co. + + + + +A WORD OF INTRODUCTION. + +Alexander was accustomed to say; "Philip of Macedon gave me life, but +it was Aristotle who taught me how to make the most of life." + +To have the gift of life is a solemn thing. Life is God's most sacred +trust. It is not ours to do with as we please; it must be accounted +for, every particle, every power, every possibility of it. + +These chapters are written with the purpose and hope of stimulating +those who may read them to earnest and worthy living. If they seem +urgent, if they present continually motives of thoughtfulness, if they +dwell almost exclusively on the side of obligation and responsibility, +if they make duty ever prominent and call to self-renunciation and +self-sacrifice, leaving small space for play, it is because life itself +is really most serious, and because we must meet it seriously, +recognizing its sacred meaning and girding ourselves for it with all +earnestness and energy. + +If this book shall teach any how to make the most of the life God has +entrusted to them, that will be reward enough for the work of its +preparation. To this service it is affectionately dedicated, in the +name of Him who made the most of his blessed life by losing it in +love's sacrifice, and who calls us also to die to self that we may live +unto God. + +J. R. M. + +PHILADELPHIA. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +CHAPTER + + I. MAKING THE MOST OF LIFE + II. LAID ON GOD'S ALTAR + III. CHRIST'S INTEREST IN OUR COMMON LIFE + IV. THE POSSIBILITIES OF PRAYER + V. GETTING CHRIST'S TOUCH + VI. THE BLESSING OF A BURDEN + VII. HEART-PEACE BEFORE MINISTRY + VIII. MORAL CURVATURES + IX. TRANSFIGURED LIVES + X. THE INTERPRETATION OF SORROW + XI. OTHER PEOPLE + XII. THE BLESSING OF FAITHFULNESS + XIII. WITHOUT AXE OR HAMMER + XIV. DOING THINGS FOR CHRIST + XV. HELPING AND OVER-HELPING + XVI. THE ONLY ONE + XVII. SWIFTNESS IN DUTY + XVIII. THE SHADOWS WE CAST + XIX. THE MEANING OF OPPORTUNITIES + XX. THE SIN OF INGRATITUDE + XXI. SOME SECRETS OF HAPPY HOME LIFE + XXII. GOD'S WINTER PLANTS + XXIII. UNFINISHED LIFE-BUILDING + XXIV. IRON SHOES FOR ROUGH ROADS + XXV. THE SHUTTING OF DOCKS + + + + +MAKING THE MOST OF LIFE. + + +CHAPTER I. + +MAKING THE MOST OF LIFE. + + + "Measure thy life by loss instead of gain; + Not by the wine drunk, but the wine poured forth; + For love's strength standeth in love's sacrifice, + And whoso suffers most hath most to give." + --_The Disciples._ + + +According to our Lord's teaching, we can make the most of our life by +losing it. He says that losing the life for his sake is saving it. +There is a lower self that must be trampled down and trampled to death +by the higher self. The alabaster vase must be broken, that the +ointment may flow out to fill the house. The grapes must be crushed, +that there may be wine to drink. The wheat must be bruised, before it +can become bread to feed hunger. + +It is so in life. Whole, unbruised, unbroken men are of but little +use. True living is really a succession of battles, in which the +better triumphs over the worse, the spirit over the flesh. Until we +cease to live for self, we have not begun to live at all. + +We can never become truly useful and helpful to others until we have +learned this lesson. One may live for self and yet do many pleasant +things for others; but one's life can never become the great blessing +to the world it was meant to be until the law of self-sacrifice has +become its heart principle. + +A great oak stands in the forest. It is beautiful in its majesty; it +is ornamental; it casts a pleasant shade. Under its branches the +children play; among its boughs the birds sing. One day the woodman +comes with his axe, and the tree quivers in all its branches, under his +sturdy blows. "I am being destroyed," it cries. So it seems, as the +great tree crashes down to the ground. And the children are sad +because they can play no more beneath the broad branches; the birds +grieve because they can no more nest and sing amid the summer foliage. + +But let us follow the tree's history. It is cut into boards, and built +into a beautiful cottage, where human hearts find their happy nest. Or +it is used in making a great organ which leads the worship of a +congregation. The losing of its life was the saving of it. It died +that it might become deeply, truly useful. + +The plates, cups, dishes, and vases which we use in our homes and on +our tables, once lay as common clay in the earth, quiet and restful, +but in no way doing good, serving man. Then came men with picks, and +the clay was rudely torn out and plunged into a mortar and beaten and +ground in a mill, then pressed, and then put into a furnace, and burned +and burned, at last coming forth in beauty, and beginning its history +of usefulness. It was apparently destroyed that it might begin to be +of service. + +A great church-building is going up, and the stones that are being laid +on the walls are brought out of the dark quarry for this purpose. We +can imagine them complaining, groaning, and repining, as the quarry +men's drills and hammers struck them. They supposed they were being +destroyed as they were torn out from the bed of rock where they had +lain undisturbed for ages, and were cut into blocks, and lifted out, +and then as they were chiselled and dressed into form. But they were +being destroyed only that they might become useful. They become part +of a new sanctuary, in which God is to be worshipped, where the Gospel +will be preached, where penitent sinners will find the Christ-Saviour, +where sorrowing ones will be comforted. Surely it was better that +these stones should be torn out, even amid agony, and built into the +wall of the church, than that they should have lain ages more, +undisturbed in the dark quarry. They were saved from uselessness by +being destroyed. + +These are simple illustrations of the law which applies also in human +life. We must die to be useful--to be truly a blessing. Our Lord put +this truth in a little parable, when he said that the seed must fall +into the earth and die that it may bear fruit. Christ's own cross is +the highest illustration of this. His friends said he wasted his +precious life; but was that life wasted when Jesus was crucified? +George MacDonald in one of his little poems, with deep spiritual +insight, presents this truth of the blessed gain of Christ's life +through his sacrifice and death:-- + + "For three and thirty years, a living seed, + A lonely germ, dropt on our waste world's side, + Thy death and rising, thou didst calmly bide; + Sore compassed by many a clinging weed + Sprung from the fallow soil of evil and need; + Hither and thither tossed, by friends denied; + Pitied of goodness dull, and scorned of pride; + Until at length was done the awful deed, + And thou didst lie outworn in stony bower-- + Three days asleep--oh, slumber godlike, brief, + For Man of sorrows and acquaint with grief, + Heaven's seed, Thou diedst, that out of thee might tower + Aloft, with rooted stem and shadowy leaf + Of all Humanity the crimson flower." + + +People said that Harriet Newell's beautiful life was wasted when she +gave it to missions, and then died and was buried far from home--bride, +missionary, mother, saint, all in one short year,--without even telling +to one heathen woman or child the story of the Saviour. But was that +lovely young life indeed wasted? No; all this century her name has +been one of the strongest inspirations to missionary work, and her +influence has brooded everywhere, touching thousands of hearts of +gentle women and strong men, as the story of her consecration has been +told. Had Harriet Newell lived a thousand years of quiet, sweet life +at home, she could not have done the work that she did in one short +year by giving her life, as it seemed, an unavailing sacrifice. She +lost her life that she might save it. She died that she might live. +She offered herself a living sacrifice that she might become useful. + +In heart and spirit we must all do the same if we would ever be a real +blessing in the world. We must be willing to lose our life--to +sacrifice ourself, to give up our own way, our own ease, our own +comfort, possibly even our own life; for there come times when one's +life must literally be lost in order to be saved. + +It was in a mine in England. There had been a fearful explosion, and +the men came rushing up from the lower level, right into the danger of +the deathly afterblast; when the only chance of safety was in another +shaft. And one man knew this and stood there in the dangerous passage, +warning the men. When urged to go himself the safe way, he said, "No; +some one must stay here to guide the others." Is there any heroism of +this world's life finer than that? + +It was at Fredericksburg, after a bloody battle. Hundreds of Union +soldiers lay wounded on the field. All night and all next day the +space was swept by artillery from both armies; and no one could venture +to the sufferers' relief. All that time, too, there went up from the +field agonizing cries for water, but there was no response save the +roar of the guns. At length, however, one brave fellow behind the +ramparts, a Southern soldier, felt that he could endure these piteous +cries no longer. His compassion rose superior to his love of life. + +"General," said Richard Kirkland to his commander, "I can't stand this. +Those poor souls out there have been praying for water all night and +all day, and it is more than I can bear. I ask permission to carry +them water." + +The general assured him that it would be instant death for him to +appear upon the field, but he begged so earnestly that the officer, +admiring his noble devotion to humanity, could not refuse his request. +Provided with a supply of water, the brave soldier stepped over the +wall and went on his Christ-like errand. From both sides wondering +eyes looked on as he knelt by the nearest sufferer, and gently raising +his head, held the cooling cup to his parched lips. At once the Union +soldiers understood what the soldier in gray was doing for their own +wounded comrades, and not a shot was fired. For an hour and a half he +continued his work, giving drink to the thirsty, straightening cramped +and mangled limbs, pillowing men's heads on their knapsacks, and +spreading blankets and army coats over them, tenderly as a mother would +cover her child; and all the while, until this angel-ministry was +finished, the fusillade of death was hushed. + +Again we must admire the heroism that led this brave soldier in gray so +utterly to forget himself for the sake of doing a deed of mercy to his +enemies. There is more grandeur in five minutes of such +self-renunciation than in a whole lifetime of self-interest and +self-seeking. There is something Christly in it. How poor, paltry, +and mean, alongside the records of such deeds, appear men's selfish +strivings, self-interests' boldest venturing! + +We must get the same spirit in us if we would become in any large and +true sense a blessing to the world. We must die to live. We must lose +our life to save it. We must lay self on the altar to be consumed in +the fire of love, in order to glorify God and do good to men. Our work +may be fair, even though mingled with self; but it is only when self is +sacrificed, burned on the altar of consecration, consumed in the hot +flames of love, that our work becomes really our best, a fit offering +to be made to our King. + +We must not fear that in such sacrifice, such renunciation and +annihilation of self, we shall lose ourselves. God will remember every +deed of love, every forgetting of self, every emptying out of life. +Though we work in obscurest places, where no human tongue shall ever +voice our praise, still there is a record kept, and some day rich and +glorious reward will be given. Is not God's praise better than man's? + + "Ungathered beauties of a bounteous earth, + Wild flowers which grow on mountain-paths untrod. + White water-lilies looking up to God + From solitary tarns--and human worth + Doing meek duty that no glory gains, + Heroic souls in secret places sown, + To live, to suffer, and to die unknown-- + Are not that loveliness and all these pains + Wasted? Alas, then does it not suffice + That God is on the mountain, by the lake, + And in each simple duty, for whose sake + His children give their very blood as price? + The Father sees. If this does not repay, + What else? For plucked flowers fade and praises slay." + + +Mary's ointment was wasted when she broke the vase and poured it upon +her Lord. Yes; but suppose she had left the ointment in the unbroken +vase? What remembrance would it then have had? Would there have been +any mention of it on the Gospel pages? Would her deed of careful +keeping have been told over all the world? She broke the vase and +poured it out, lost it, sacrificed it, and now the perfume fills all +the earth. We may keep our life if we will, carefully preserving it +from waste; but we shall have no reward, no honor from it, at the last. +But if we empty it out in loving service, we shall make it a lasting +blessing to the world, and we shall be remembered forever. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +LAID ON GOD'S ALTAR. + + + "My life is not my own, but Christ's, who gave it, + And he bestows it upon all the race; + I lose it for his sake, and thus I save it; + I hold it close, but only to expend it; + Accept it, Lord, for others, through thy grace." + + +We have to die to live. That is the central law of life. We must burn +to give light to the world, or to give forth odor of incense to God's +praise. We cannot save ourselves and at the same time make anything +worthy of our life, or be in any deep and true sense an honor to God +and a blessing to the world. The altar stands in the foreground of +every life, and can be passed by only at the cost of all that is +noblest and best. + +All the practical side of religion is summed up in the exhortation of +St. Paul, that we present our bodies a living sacrifice to God. +Anciently, a man brought a lamb and presented it to God, laid it on the +altar, to be consumed by God's fire. In like manner, we are to present +our bodies. The first thing is not to be a worker, a preacher, a saver +of souls; the very first thing in a Christian life is to present one's +self to God, to lay one's self on the altar. We need to understand +this. It is easier to talk and work for Christ than to give ourselves +to him. It is easier to offer God a few activities than to give him a +heart. But the heart must be first, else even the largest gifts and +services are not acceptable. + + "'Tis not thy work the Master needs, but thee,-- + The obedient spirit, the believing heart." + + +"A living sacrifice." A sacrifice is something really given to God, to +be his altogether and forever. We cannot take it back any more. One +could not lay a lamb on God's altar and then a minute or two afterward +run up and take it off. We cannot be God's to-day and our own +to-morrow. If we become his at all, in a sacrifice which he accepts, +we are his always. + +How can we present ourselves as a sacrifice to God? By the complete +surrender of our heart and will and all our powers to him. Absolute +obedience is consecration. The soldier learns it. He is not his own. +He does not think for himself, to, make his own plans; he has but one +duty--to obey. Payson used to talk of his "lost will"--lost in God's +will, he meant. That is what presenting one's self a sacrifice means. + +It is a "living" sacrifice. Anciently, the sacrifices were killed; +they were laid dead on the altar. We are to present ourselves living. +The fire consumed the ancient offering; the fire of God's love and of +his Spirit consumes our lives by purifying them and filling them with +divine life. Those on whom the fire fell on the day of Pentecost +became new men. There was a new life in their souls, a new ardor, a +new enthusiasm. They were on fire with love for Christ. They entered +upon a service in which all their energies flamed. + +The living sacrifice includes all the life,--not what it is now only, +but all that it may become. Life is not a diamond, but a seed, with +possibilities of endless growth. Dr. Lyman Abbott has used this +illustration: "I pluck an acorn from the greensward, and hold it to my +ear; and this is what it says to me: 'By and by the birds will come and +nest in me. By and by I will furnish shade for the cattle. By and by +I will provide warmth for the home in the pleasant fire. By and by I +will be shelter from the storm to those who have gone under the roof. +By and by I will be the strong ribs of the great vessel, and the +tempest will beat against me in vain, while I carry men across the +Atlantic.' 'O foolish little acorn, wilt thou be all this?' I ask. +And the acorn answers, 'Yes; God and I.'" + +I look into the faces of a company of children, and I hear a whisper, +saying: "By and by I will be a great blessing to many. By and by other +lives will come and find nest and home in me. By and by the weary will +sit in the shadow of my strength. By and by I will sit as comforter in +a home of sorrow. By and by I will speak the words of Christ's +salvation in ears of lost ones. By and by I will shine in the full +radiancy of the beauty of Christ, and be among the glorified with my +Redeemer." "You, frail, powerless, little one?" I ask; and the answer +is, "Yes; Christ and I." And all these blessed possibilities that are +in the life of the young person must go upon the altar in the living +sacrifice. + +Take another view of it. Some people seem to suppose that only +spiritual exercises are included in this living sacrifice; that it does +not cover their business, their social life, their amusements. But it +really embraces the whole of life. We belong to God as truly on Monday +as on the Lord's Day. We must keep ourselves laid on God's altar as +really while we are at our week-day work as when we are in a +prayer-meeting. We are always on duty as Christians, whether we are +engaged in our secular pursuits or in exercises of devotion. All our +work should therefore be done reverently, "as unto the Lord." + +We should do everything also for God's eye and according to the +principled of righteousness. The consecrated mechanic must put +absolute truth into every piece of work he does. The consecrated +business man must conduct his business on the principles of divine +righteousness. The consecrated millionaire must get his money on God's +altar, so that every dollar of it shall do business for God, blessing +the world. The consecrated housekeeper must keep her home so sweet and +so tidy and beautiful all the days, that she would never be ashamed for +her Master to come in without warning to be her guest. That is, when +we present ourselves to God as a living sacrifice, we are to be God's +in every part and in every phase of our life, wherever we go, whatever +we do. + +"I cannot be of any use," says one. "I cannot talk in meetings. I +cannot pray in public. I have no gift for visiting the sick. There is +nothing I can do for Christ." + +Well, if Christian service were all talking and praying in meetings, +and visiting the sick, it would be discouraging to such talentless +people. But are our tongues the only faculties we can use for Christ? +There are ways in which even silent people can belong to God and be a +blessing in the world. A star does not talk, but its calm, steady beam +shines down continually out of the sky, and is a benediction to many. +A flower cannot sing bird-songs, but its sweet beauty and gentle +fragrance make it a blessing wherever it is seen. Be like a star in +your peaceful shining, and many will thank God for your life. Be like +the flower in your pure beauty and in the influence of your unselfish +spirit, and you may do more to bless the world than many who talk +incessantly. The living sacrifice does not always mean active work. +It may mean the patient endurance of a wrong, the quiet bearing of a +pain, cheerful acquiescence in a disappointment. + + "Noble deeds are held in honor; + But the wide world sadly needs + Hearts of patience to unravel + The worth of common deeds." + + +There are some people who think it impossible in their narrow sphere +and in their uncongenial circumstances to live so as to win God's favor +or be blessings in the world. But there is no doubt that many of the +most beautiful lives of earth, in Heaven's sight, are those that are +lived in what seem the most unfavorable conditions. A visitor to +Amsterdam wished to hear the wonderful music of the chimes of St. +Nicholas, and went up into the tower of the church to hear it. There +he found a man with wooden gloves on his hands, pounding on a keyboard. +All he could hear was the clanging of the keys when struck by the +wooden gloves, and the harsh, deafening noise of the bells close over +his head. He wondered why people talked of the marvellous chimes of +St. Nicholas. To his ear there was no music in them, nothing but +terrible clatter and clanging. Yet, all the while, there floated out +over and beyond the city the most entrancing music. Men in the fields +paused in their work to listen and were made glad. People in their +homes and travellers on the highways were thrilled by the marvellous +bell-notes that fell from the chimes. + +There are many lives which to those who dwell close beside them seem to +make no music. They pour out their strength in hard toil. They are +shut up in narrow spheres. They dwell amid the noise and clatter of +common task-work. They appear to be only striking wooden hammers on +rattling, noisy keys. There can be nothing pleasing to God in their +life, men would say. They think themselves that they are not of any +use, that no blessing goes out from their life. They never dream that +sweet music is made anywhere in the world by their noisy hammering. As +the bell-chimer in his little tower hears no music from his own ringing +of the bells, so they think of their hard toil as producing nothing but +clatter and clangor; but out over the world where the influence goes +from their work and character, human lives are blessed, and weary ones +hear with gladness sweet, comforting music. Then away off in heaven, +where angels listen for earth's melody, most entrancing strains are +heard. + +No doubt it will be seen at the last that many of earth's most +acceptable living sacrifices have been laid on the altar in the +narrowest spheres and in the midst of the hardest conditions. What to +the ears of close listeners is only the noise of painful toil is heard +in heaven as music sweet as angels' song. + +The living sacrifice is "acceptable unto God." It ought to be a +wondrous inspiration to know this; that even the lowliest things we do +for Christ are pleasing to him. We ought to be able to do better, +truer work, when we think of his gracious acceptance of it. It is told +of Leonardo da Vinci, that while still a pupil, before his genius burst +into brilliancy, he received a special inspiration in this way: His old +and famous master, because of his growing infirmities of age, felt +obliged to give up his own work, and one day bade Da Vinci finish for +him a picture which he had begun. The young man had such a reverence +for his master's skill that he shrank from the task. The old artist, +however, would not accept any excuse, but persisted in his command, +saying simply, "Do your best." + +Da Vinci at last tremblingly seized the brush and kneeling before the +easel prayed: "It is for the sake of my beloved master that I implore +skill and power for this undertaking." As he proceeded, his hand grew +steady, his eye awoke with slumbering genius. He forgot himself and +was filled with enthusiasm for his work. When the painting was +finished, the old master was carried into the studio to pass judgment +on the result. His eye rested on a triumph of art. Throwing his arms +about the young artist, he exclaimed, "My son, I paint no more." + +There are some who shrink from undertaking the work which the Master +gives them to do. They are not worthy; they have no skill or power for +the delicate duty. But to all their timid shrinking and withdrawing, +the Master's gentle yet urgent word is, "Do your best." They have only +to kneel in lowly reverence and pray, for the beloved Master's sake, +for skill and strength for the task assigned, and they will be inspired +and helped to do it well. The power of Christ will rest upon them and +the love of Christ will be in their heart. And all work done under +this blessed inspiration will be acceptable unto God. We have but +truly to lay the living sacrifice on the altar; then God will send the +fire. + +We need to get this matter of consecration down out of cloud-land into +the region of actual, common daily living. We sing about it and pray +for it and talk of it in our religious meetings, ofttimes in glowing +mood, as if it were some exalted state with which earth's life of toil, +struggle, and care had nothing whatever to do. But the consecration +suggested by the living sacrifice is one that walks on the earth, that +meets life's actual duties, struggles, temptations, and sorrows, and +that falters not in obedience, fidelity, or submission, but follows +Christ with love and joy wherever he leads. No other consecration +pleases God. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +CHRIST'S INTEREST IN OUR COMMON LIFE. + + + "So still, dear Lord, in every place + Thou standest by the toiling folk + With love and pity in thy face, + And givest of thy help and grace + To those who meekly bear the yoke." + + +One of our Lord's after-resurrection appearances vividly pictures his +loving interest in our common toil. While waiting for him to come to +Galilee, the disciples had gone back for a time to their old work of +fishing. They were poor men, and this was probably necessary in order +to provide for their own subsistence. Thus fishing was the duty that +lay nearest. Yet it must have been dreary work for them after the +exalted privileges they had enjoyed so long. Think what the last three +years had been to these men. Jesus had taken them into the most +intimate fellowship with himself--into closest confidential friendship. +They had listened to his wonderful words, seen his gracious acts, and +witnessed his sweet life. Think what a privilege it was to live thus +with Jesus those beautiful years; what glimpses of heaven they had; +what visions of radiant life shone before them. + +But now this precious experience was ended. The lovely dream had +vanished. They were back again at their old work. How dreary it must +have been--this tiresome handling of oars and boats and fishing-nets, +after their years of exalted life with their Master! But it is a +precious thought to us that just at this time, when they were in the +midst of the dull and wearisome work, and when they were sadly +discouraged, Christ appeared to them. It showed his interest in their +work, his sympathy with them in their discouragement, and his readiness +to help them. + +Then the revealings of his appearance that morning are for all his +friends and for all time. We know now that our risen Saviour is +interested in whatever we have to do, and is ready to help us in all +our dull, common life. He will come to his people, not in the church +service, the prayer-meeting, the Holy Supper only, but is quite as apt +to reveal himself to them in the task-work of the plainest, dullest +day. Susan Coolidge writes:-- + + "That thy full glory may abound, increase, + And so thy likeness shall be formed in me, + I pray; the answer is not rest or peace, + But changes, duties, wants, anxieties, + Till there seems room for everything but thee, + And never time for anything but these. + + "And I should fear, but lo! amid the press, + The whirl and hum and pressure of my day, + I hear thy garments sweep, thy seamless dress, + And close beside my work and weariness + Discern thy gracious form, not far away, + But very near, O Lord, to help and bless. + + "The busy fingers fly; the eyes may see + Only the glancing needle which they hold; + But all my life is blossoming inwardly, + And every breath is like a litany; + While through each labor, like a thread of gold, + Is woven the sweet consciousness of thee." + + +There are duties in every life that are irksome. Young people +sometimes find school work dull. There are faithful mothers who many a +day grow weary of the endless duties of the household. There are good +men who tire ofttimes of the routine of office, or store, or mill, or +farm. There comes to most of us, at times, the feeling that what we +have to do day after day is not worthy of us. We have had glimpses, or +brief experiences, of life in its higher revealings. It may have been +a companionship for a season with one above us in experience or +attainment, that has lifted us up for a little time into exalted +thoughts and feelings, after which it is hard to come back again to the +old plodding round, and to the old, uninteresting companionships. It +may have been a visit to some place or to some home, with +opportunities, refinements, inspirations, privileges, above those which +we can have in our own narrower surroundings and plainer home and less +congenial intimacies. + +Or our circumstances may have been rudely changed by some providence +that has broken in upon our happy life. It may have been a death that +cut off the income, or a reverse in business that swept away a fortune, +and luxury and ease and the material refinements and elegances of +wealth have to be exchanged for toil and plain circumstances and a +humbler home. There are few sorer tests of character than such changes +as these bring with them. The first thought always is: "How can I go +to this dreary life, these hard tasks, this painful drudgery, this +weary plodding, after having enjoyed so long the comforts and +refinements of my old happy state?" + +In such cases immeasurable comfort may be found in this appearance of +the risen Christ that morning on the shore. The disciples took up +their dull old work because it was necessary, and was their plain duty +for the time; and there was Jesus waiting to greet them and bless them. +Accept your hard tasks, and do them cheerfully, no matter how irksome +they appear, and Christ will reveal himself to you in them. Be sure +that he will never come to you when you are avoiding any tasks, when +you are withholding your hand from any duty, or when you are fretting +and discontented over any circumstances or conditions of your lot. +There are no visions of the Christ for idle dreamers or for unhappy +shirkers. + +Suppose you have come back, like the disciples, from times of privilege +and exaltation, and find yourself face to face once more with an old +life which seems now unworthy of you; yet for the time your duty is +clear, and if you would have a vision of Christ, you must take up the +duty with gladness. Suppose that your home-life is narrow, humdrum, +unpoetic, uncongenial, even cold and unkindly; yet there for the time +is your place, and there are your duties. And right in this sphere, +narrow though it seem, there is room for holiest visions of Christ and +for the richest revealings of his grace and blessing. + +It will be remembered that Jesus himself, after his glimpse of higher +things in the temple, went back to the lowly peasant home at Nazareth, +and there for eighteen years more found scope enough for the +development of the richest nature this world ever saw, and for the +fullest and completest doing of duty ever wrought beneath the skies. +Whatever, then, may be our shrinking from dull tasks, our distaste for +dreary duty, our discontent with a narrow place and with limiting +circumstances, we should go promptly to the work that God assigns, and +accept the conditions that lie in the lot which he appoints. And in +our hardest toil, our most irksome tasks, our lowliest duties, our +dreariest and most uncongenial surroundings, we shall have but to lift +up our eyes to see the blessed form of Christ standing before us, with +cheer, sympathy, and encouragement for us. + +There is more of the lesson. Not only did Christ reveal himself to +these disciples while at their lowly work, but he helped them in it. +He told them where to cast their net, and turned their failure to +success. We think of Christ as helping us to endure temptation, to +bear trial, to overcome sin, to do spiritual duties, but we sometimes +forget that he is just as ready to help us in our common work. That +morning he helped the disciples in their fishing. He will help us in +our trade or business, or in whatever work we have to do. + +We all have our discouraged days, when things do not go well. The +young people fail in their lessons at school, although they have +studied hard, and really have done their best. Or the mothers fail in +their household work. The children are hard to control. It has been +impossible to keep good temper, to maintain that sweetness and +lovingness that are so essential to a happy day. They try to be +gentle, kindly, and patient, but, try as they will, their minds become +ruffled and fretted with cares. They come to the close of the long, +unhappy hours disturbed, defeated, discouraged. They have done their +best, but they feel that they have only failed. They fall upon their +knees, but they have only tears for a prayer. Yet if they will lift up +their eyes, they will see on the shore of the troubled sea of their +little day's life the form of One whose presence will give them +strength and confidence, and who will help them to victoriousness. +Before his sweet smile the shadows flee away. At his word new strength +is given, and, after that, work is easy, and all goes well again. + +Men, too, in their busy life, are continually called to struggle, +ofttimes to suffer. Life is not easy for any who would live truly. +Work is hard; burdens are heavy; responsibility is great; trials are +sore; duty is large. Life's competitions are fierce; its rivalries are +keen; its frictions sometimes grind men's very souls well nigh to +death. It is hard to live sweetly amid the irritations that touch +continually at most tender points. It is hard to live lovingly and +charitably when they see so much inequity and wrong, and sometimes must +themselves endure men's uncharity and injustice. It is hard to toil +and never rest, earning even then scarce enough to feed and clothe +those who are dependent on them for care. It is hard to meet +temptation's fierce assaults, and keep themselves pure, unspotted from +the world, ready for heaven any hour the Lord may come. + +It is no wonder that men are sometimes discouraged and lose heart. +They are like those weary disciples that spring morning on the Sea of +Galilee, after they had toiled all night and had taken nothing. But +let us not forget the vision that awaited these disciples with the +coming of the dawn--the risen Jesus standing on the shore with his +salutation of love and his strong help that instantly turned failure +into blessing. So over against every tempted, struggling, toiling life +of Christian disciple, Christ is ever standing, ready to give victory +and to guide to highest good. + +Life would be easier for us all if we could realize the presence and +actual help of Christ in all our experiences. We need to care for only +one thing--that we may be faithful always to duty, and loyal to our +Master. Then, the duller the round and the sorer the struggle, the +surer we shall ever be of Christ's smile and help. We may glory in +infirmities, because then the power of God rests upon us. + +It is not ordinarily in the easy ways, in the luxurious surroundings, +in the paths of worldly honor, in the congenial lot, that the brightest +heavenly visions are seen. There have been more blessed revealings of +Christ in prisons than in palaces, in homes of poverty than in homes of +abundance, in ways of hardship than in ways of ease. We need only to +accept our task-work, our drudgery, our toil, in Christ's name, and the +glory of Christ will transfigure it and shine upon our faces. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE POSSIBILITIES OF PRAYER. + + + "Ask and receive--'tis sweetly said; + Yet what to plead for know I not, + For wish is worsted, hope o'ersped, + And aye to thanks returns my thought. + If I would pray + I've naught to say, + But this, that God may be God still: + For time to live + So still to give, + And sweeter than my wish his will." + --DAVID A. WASSON. + + +We do not begin to realize the possibilities of prayer. There is no +limit, for example, to the scope of prayer. We may embrace in it all +things that belong to our life, not merely those which affect our +spiritual interests, but those as well which seem to be only worldly +matters. Nothing that concerns us in any way is matter of indifference +to God. One writes: "Learn to entwine with your prayers the small +cares, the trifling sorrows, the little wants of daily life. Whatever +affects you,--be it a changed look, an altered tone, an unkind word, a +wrong, a wound, a demand you cannot meet, a sorrow you cannot +disclose,--turn it into prayer and send it up to God. Disclosures you +may not make to man, you can make to the Lord. Men may be too little +for your great matters; God is not too great for your small ones. Only +give yourself to prayer, whatever be the occasion that calls for it." + +We soon find, however, if we are really earnest, that our desires are +too great for words. We have in our hearts feelings, hungerings, +affections, longings, which we want to breathe out to God; but when we +begin to speak to him, we find no language adequate for their +expression. We try to tell God of our sorrow for sin, of our weakness +and sinfulness, then of our desire to be better, to love Christ more, +to follow him more closely, and of our hunger after righteousness, +after holiness; but it is very little of these deep cravings that we +can get into speech. + +Language is a wonderful gift. The power of putting into words the +thoughts and emotions of our souls, that others may understand them, is +one of the most marvellous powers the Creator has bestowed upon us. +Thus we communicate our feelings and desires the one to the other. It +is a sore deprivation when the gates of speech are shut and locked, and +when the soul cannot tell its thoughts. + +Yet we all know, unless our thoughts and feelings are very shallow and +trivial, that even the wonderful faculty of language is inadequate to +express all that the soul can experience. No true orator ever finds +sentences majestic enough to interpret the sentiments that burn in his +soul. Deep, pure love is never able to put into words its most sacred +feelings and emotions. It is only the commonplace of the inner life +that can be uttered in even the finest language. There is always more +that lies back, unexpressed, than is spoken in any words. + +It is specially true of prayer that we cannot utter its deepest +feelings and holiest desires. We have comfort, however, in the +assurance that God can hear thoughts. He knows what we want to say and +cannot express. Your dearest friend may stand close to you when your +mind is full of thoughts, but unless you speak or give some sign, he +cannot know one of your thoughts. He may lay his ear close to your +heart, and he will hear its throbbings; but he cannot hear your +feelings, your desires. Yet God knows all that goes on in your soul. +Every thought that flies through your brain is heard in heaven. + + "O Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. + Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, + Thou understandest my thought afar off. + Thou searchest out my path and my lying down, + And art acquainted with all my ways. + For there is not a word in my tongue, + But, lo, O Lord, thou knowest it altogether." + + +We need not trouble ourselves, therefore, if we cannot get our wishes +into words when we pray, for God hears wishes, heart-longings, soul +hungerings and thirstings. The things we cannot say in speech of the +lips, we may ask God to take from our heart's speech. There is not the +feeblest, faintest glimmer of a desire rising on the far-away horizon +of our being, but God sees it. There is not a heart-hunger, not a wish +to be holier and better, not an aspiration to be more Christ-like, not +a craving to live for God and be a blessing to others, not the faintest +desire to be rid of sin's power, but God knows of it. St. Paul has a +wonderful word on this subject: God, he says, "is able to do exceeding +abundantly above all that we ask or think." When our heart is stirred +to its depths, what large, great things can we ask in words? Then, how +much can we put into thoughts of prayer, into longings, desires, +aspirations, beyond the possibilities of speech? God can do more than +we can pray either in words or thoughts. + +Our truest praying is that which we cannot express in any words, our +heart's unutterable longings, when we sit at God's feet and look up +into his face and do not speak at all, but let our hearts talk. + + "Rather as friends sit sometimes hand in hand, + Nor mar with words the sweet speech of their eyes; + So in soft silence let us oftener bow, + Nor try with words to make God understand. + Longing is prayer; upon its wings we rise + To where the breath of heaven beats upon our brow." + + +Our best, truest prayers are not for earthly things, but for spiritual +blessings. When the objects are temporal, we do not know what we +should pray for--what would be really a blessing to us. You are a +loving parent, and your child is very ill. It seems that it must die. +You fall upon your knees before God to pray, but you do not know what +to ask. Your breaking heart would quickly plead, "Lord, spare my +precious child"; but you do not know that that is best. Perhaps to +live would not be God's sweetest gift to your child, or to you. So, +not daring to choose, you can only say, "Lord God, I cannot speak more; +but thou knowest thy child; thou understandest what is best." + +Or, some plan of yours, which you have long cherished, seems about to +be thwarted. You go to God, and begin to pray; but you do not know +what to ask. You can only say, "Lord, I cannot tell what is best; but +thou knowest." What a comfort it is that God does indeed know, and +that we may safely leave our heart's burden in his hand, without any +request whatever! + + "Lord, I had chosen another lot, + But then I had not chosen well; + Thy choice, and truly thine, was good; + No different lot, search heaven or hell, + Had blessed me, fully understood, + None other which thou orderest not." + + +We can do little more than this in any request for temporal things. +Says Archdeacon Farrar: "There are two things to remember about prayers +for earthly things: One, that to ask mainly for earthly blessings is a +dreadful dwarfing and vulgarization of the grandeur of prayer, as +though you asked for a handful of grass, when you might ask for a +handful of emeralds; the other that you must always ask for earthly +desires with absolute submission of your own will to God's." So +silence is oft-times the best and truest praying--bowing before God in +life's great crises; but saying nothing, leaving the burden in God's +hand without any choosing. We are always safe when we let God guide us +in all our ways. + + "Ill that he blesses is our good, + And unblest good is ill; + And all is right that seems most wrong, + If it be his sweet will." + + +Many of the richest possibilities of prayer lie beyond valleys of pain +and sorrow. The best things of life cannot be gotten save at sore +cost. When we pray for more holiness, we do not know what we are +asking for; at least we do not know the price we must pay to get that +which we ask. Our "Nearer, my God, to thee," must be conditioned by, +and often can come only through, + + "E'en though it be a cross, + That raiseth me." + + +Not only are the spiritual things the best things, but many times the +spiritual things can be grasped only by letting go and losing out of +our hands the earthly things we would love to keep. God loves us too +much to grant our prayers for comfort and relief, even when we make +them, if he can do it only at spiritual loss to us. He would rather +let it be hard for us to live if there is blessing in the hardness, +than make it easy for us at the cost of the blessing. + +There are certain singing-birds that never learn to sing until their +cages are darkened. Would it be true kindness to keep these birds +always in the sunshine? There are human hearts that never learn to +sing the song of faith and peace and love, until they enter the +darkness of trial. Would it be true love for these if God would hear +their prayers for the removal of their pain? We dare not plead, +therefore, save with utmost diffidence and submission, that God would +remove the cross of suffering. + + "Thou canst not tell + How rich a dowry sorrow gives the soul, + How firm a faith and eagle-sight of God." + + +Does God answer prayers? "I have been praying for one thing for +years," says one, "and it has not come yet." God has many ways of +answering. Sometimes he delays that he may give a better, fuller +answer. A poor woman stood at a vineyard gate, and looked over into +the vineyard. "Would you like some grapes?" asked the proprietor, who +was within. "I should be very thankful," replied the woman. "Then +bring your basket." Quickly the basket was brought to the gate and +passed in. The owner took it and was gone a long time among the vines, +till the woman became discouraged, thinking he was not coming again. +At last he returned with the basket heaped full. "I have made you wait +a good while," he said, "but you know the longer you have to wait, the +better grapes and the more." + +So it sometimes is in prayer. We bring our empty vessel to God and +pass it over the gate of prayer to him. He seems to be delaying a long +time, and sometimes faith faints with waiting. But at last he comes, +and our basket is heaped full with luscious blessings. He waited long +that he might bring us a better and a fuller answer. At least we are +sure that no true prayer ever really goes unanswered. We have to wait +for the fruits to ripen, and that takes time. + +Then sometimes God delays until some work in us is finished, some +preparation which is needed before the best answer can be received. +The following words are suggestive: + + "Unanswered yet, the prayer your lips have pleaded + In agony of heart these many years? + Does faith begin to fail? Is hope departing, + And think you all in vain those falling tears? + Say not the Father hath not heard your prayer; + You shall have your desire sometime, somewhere. + + "Unanswered yet, though when you first presented + This one petition at the Father's throne, + It seemed you could not wait the time of asking, + So urgent was your heart to have it known? + Though years have passed since then, do not despair; + The Lord will answer you sometime, somewhere. + + "Unanswered yet? Nay, do not say ungranted; + Perhaps your part is not yet wholly done; + The work began when first your prayer was uttered. + And God will finish what he has begun. + If you will keep the incense burning there, + His glory you will see sometime, somewhere. + + "Unanswered yet? Faith cannot be unanswered. + Her feet are firmly planted on the rock; + Amid the wildest storms she stands undaunted, + Nor quails before the loudest thunder shock. + She knows Omnipotence has heard her prayer, + And cries, It shall be done--sometime, somewhere." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +GETTING CHRIST'S TOUCH. + + + "This is life--to pour out love unstinted; + Good and evil, sunlike, blesseth he; + Through your finite is his infinite hinted-- + Children of your Father must ye be." + --LUCY LARCOM. + + +There was wonderful power in the touch of Christ when he was on the +earth. Wherever he laid his hand, he left a blessing, and sick, sad, +and weary ones received health, comfort, and peace. That hand, +glorified, now holds in its clasp the seven stars. Yet there are +senses in which the blessed touch of Christ is felt yet on men's lives. +He is as really in this world to-day as he was when he walked in human +form through Judea and Galilee. His hand is yet laid on the weary, the +suffering, the sorrowing, and, though its pressure is unfelt, its power +to bless is the same as in the ancient days. It is laid on the sick, +when precious heavenly words of cheer and encouragement from the +Scriptures are read at their bedside, giving them the blessing of sweet +patience, and quieting their fears. It is laid on the sorrowing, when +the consolations of divine love come to their hearts with tender +comfort, giving them strength to submit to God's will and rejoice in +the midst of trial. It is laid on the faint and weary, when the grace +of Christ comes to them with its holy peace, hushing the wild tumult, +and giving true rest of soul. + +But there is another way in which the hand of Christ is laid on human +lives. He sends his disciples into the world to represent him. "As +the Father hath sent me, even so send I you," is his own word. Of +course the best and holiest Christian life can be only the dimmest, +faintest reproduction of the rich, full, blessed life of Christ. Yet +it is in this way, through these earthen vessels, that he has ordained +to save the world, and to heal, help, comfort, lift up, and build up +men. + + "In these earthen vessels heavenly treasure + For the enrichment of thy poor may shine; + Thou canst fill us in our human measure + With thy being's overflow divine." + + +Perhaps in thinking of what God does for the world, we are too apt to +overlook the human agents and instruments, and to think of him touching +lives directly and immediately. A friend of ours is in sorrow, and, +going to our knees, we pray God to give him comfort. But may it not be +that he would send the comfort through our own heart and lips? One we +love is not doing well, is drifting away from a true life, is in danger +of being lost. In anguish of heart we cry to God, beseeching him to +lay his hand on the imperilled life, and rescue it. But may it not be +that ours is the hand that must be stretched out in love, and laid, in +Christ's name, on the life that is in danger? + +Certain it is, at least, that each one of us who knows the love of +Christ is ordained to be as Christ to others; that is, to be the +messenger to carry to them the gift of Christ's grace and help, and to +show to them the spirit of Christ, the patience, gentleness, +thoughtfulness, love, and yearning of Christ. We are taught to say, +"Christ liveth in me." If this be true, Christ would love others +through us, and our touch must be to others as the very touch of Christ +himself. Every Christian ought to be, in his human measure, a new +incarnation of the Christ, so that people shall say: "He interprets +Christ to me. He comforts me in my sorrow as Christ himself would do +if he were to come and sit down beside me. He is hopeful and patient +as Christ would be if he were to return and take me as his disciple." + +But before we can be in the place of Christ to sorrowing, suffering, +and struggling ones, we must have the mind in us that was in him. When +St. Paul said, "The love of Christ constraineth me," he meant that he +had the very love of Christ in him--the love that loved even the most +unlovely, that helped even the most unworthy, that was gentle and +affectionate even to the most loathsome. We are never ready to do good +in the world, in the truest sense or in any large measure, until we +have become thus filled with the very spirit of Christ. We may help +people in a certain way without loving them. We may render them +services of a certain kind, benefiting them externally or temporally. +We may put material gifts into their hands, build them houses, purchase +clothing for them, carry them bread, or improve their circumstances and +condition. We may thus do many things for them without having in our +heart any love for them, anything better than common philanthropy. But +the highest and most real help we can give them only through loving +them. + +"When I have attempted," says Emerson, "to give myself to others by +services, it proved an intellectual trick--no more. They eat your +services like apples, and leave you out. But love them, and they feel +you and delight in you all the time." When we love others we can help +them in all deep and true ways. We can put blessings into their hearts +instead of merely into their hands. We can enter into their very +being, becoming new breath of life to them,--quickening, inspiration, +impulse. + + "What is the best a friend can be + To any soul, to you or me? + Not only shelter, comfort, rest-- + Inmost refreshment unexpressed; + Not only a beloved guide + To thread life's labyrinth at our side, + Or with love's torch lead on before; + Though these be much, there yet is more. + + "The best friend is an atmosphere + Warm with all inspirations dear, + Wherein we breathe the large, free breath + Of life that hath no taint of death. + Our friend is an unconscious part + Of every true beat of our heart; + A strength, a growth, whence we derive + God's health, that keeps the world alive." + + +There is a touching and very suggestive story of a good woman in +Sweden, who opened a home for crippled and diseased children--children +for whom no one else was ready to care. In due time she received into +her home about twenty of these unfortunate little ones. Among them was +a boy of three years, who was a most frightful and disagreeable object. +He resembled a skeleton. His skin was covered with hideous blotches +and sores. He was always whining and crying. This poor little fellow +gave the good lady more care and trouble than all the others together. +She did her best for him, and was as kind as possible--washed him, fed +him, nursed him. But the child was so repulsive in his looks and ways, +that, try as she would, she could not bring herself to like him, and +often her disgust would show itself in her face in spite of her effort +to hide it. She could not really love the child. + +One day she was sitting on the veranda steps with this child in her +arms. The sun was shining brightly, and the perfume of the autumn +honeysuckles, the chirping of the birds, and the buzzing of the +insects, lulled her into a sort of sleep. Then in a half-waking, +half-dreaming state, she thought of herself as having changed places +with the child, and as lying there, only more foul, more repulsive in +her sinfulness than he was. + +Over her she saw the Lord Jesus bending, looking lovingly into her +face, yet with an expression of gentle rebuke in his eye, as if he +meant to say, "If I can bear with you who are so full of sin, surely +you ought, for my sake, to love that innocent child who suffers for the +sin of his parents." + +She woke up with a sudden start, and looked into the boy's face. He +had waked, too, and was looking very earnestly into her face. Sorry +for her past disgust, and feeling in her heart a new compassion for +him, she bent her face to his, and kissed him as tenderly as ever she +had kissed babe of her own. With a startled look in his eyes, and a +flush on his cheek, the boy gave her back a smile so sweet that she had +never seen one like it before. From that moment a wonderful change +came over the child. He understood the new affection that had come +instead of dislike and loathing in the woman's heart. That touch of +human love transformed his peevish, fretful nature into gentle quiet +and beauty. The woman had seen a vision of herself in that blotched, +repulsive child, and of Christ's wonderful love for her in spite of her +sinfulness. Under the inspiration of this vision she had become indeed +as Christ to the child. The love of Christ had come into her heart, +and was pouring through her upon that poor, wretched, wronged life. + +Christ loves the unlovely, the deformed, the loathsome, the leprous. +We have only to think of ourselves as we are in his sight, and then +remember that, in spite of all the moral and spiritual loathsomeness in +us, he yet loves us, does not shrink from us, lays his hand upon us to +heal us, takes us into most intimate companionship with himself. This +Christian woman had seen a vision of herself, and of Christ loving her +still and condescending to bless and save her; and now she was ready to +be as Christ, to show the spirit of Christ, to be the pity and the love +of Christ to this poor, loathsome child lying on her knee. + +She had gotten the touch of Christ by getting the love of Christ in her +heart. And we can get it in no other way. We must see ourselves as +Christ's servants, sent by him to be to others what he is to us. Then +shall we be fitted to be a blessing to every life which our life +touches. Our words then shall throb with love, and find their way to +the hearts of the weary and sorrowing. Then there will be a +sympathetic quality in our life which shall give a strange power of +helpfulness to whatever we do. + +Says a thoughtful writer, speaking of influence: "Let a man press +nearer to Christ, and open his nature more widely to admit the energy +of Christ, and, whether he knows it or not,--it is better, perhaps, if +he does not know it,--he will certainly be growing in power for God +with men, and for men with God." We get power for Christ only as we +become filled with the very life of Christ. + +Everywhere about us there are lives, cold, and cheerless, and dull, +which by the touch of our hand, in loving warmth, in Christ's name, +would be wondrously blessed and transformed. Some one tells of going +into a jeweller's store to look at certain gems. Among other stones he +was shown an opal. As it lay there, however, it appeared dull and +altogether lustreless. Then the jeweller took it in his hand and held +it for some moments, and again showed it to his customer. Now it +gleamed and flashed with all the glories of the rainbow. It needed the +touch and warmth of a human hand to bring out its iridescence. There +are human lives everywhere about us that are rich in their +possibilities of beauty and glory. No gems or jewels are so precious; +but as we see them in their earthly condition they are dull and +lustreless, without brightness or loveliness. Perhaps they are even +covered with stain and denied by sin. Yet they need only the touch of +the hand of Christ to bring out the radiance, the loveliness, the +beauty of the divine image in them. And you and I must be the hand of +Christ to these lustreless or stained lives. Touching them with our +warm love, the sleeping splendor that is in them, hidden mayhap under +sin's marring and ruin, will yet shine out, the beginning of glory for +them. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE BLESSING OF A BURDEN. + + + "Then welcome each rebuff, + That turns earth's smoothness rough, + Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand nor go. + Be our joys three parts pain! + Strive, and hold cheap the strain; + Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!" + --ROBERT BROWNING. + + +It is not always the easiest things that are the best things. Usually +we have to pay for any good thing about its full value. In all markets +commodities that cost little may be set down as worth but little. All +our blessings may be rated in the same way. If they come easily, +without great cost of effort or sacrifice, their value to us is not +great. But if we can get them only through self-denial, tears, +anguish, and pain, we may be sure that they hide in them the very gold +of God. So it is that many of our best and richest blessings come to +us in some form of rugged hardness. + +Take what we call drudgery. Life is full of it. It begins in +childhood. There is school, with its set hours, its lessons, rules, +tables, tasks, recitations. Then, when we grow up, instead of getting +away from this bondage of routine, this interminable drudgery, it goes +on just as in childhood. It is rising at the same hour every morning, +and hurrying away to the day's tasks, and doing the same things over +and over, six days in the week, fifty-two weeks in the year, and on and +on unto life's end. For the great majority of us, there is almost no +break in the monotonous rounds of our days through the long years. +Many of us sigh and wish we might in some way free ourselves from this +endless routine. We think of it as a sore bondage and by no means the +ideal of a noble and beautiful life. + +But really, much that is best in life comes out of this very bondage. +A recent writer suggests a new beatitude: "Blessed be drudgery." He +reminds us that no Bible beatitude comes easily, but that every one of +them is the fruit of some experience of hardness or pain. He shows us +that life's drudgery, wearisome and disagreeable as it is, yields rich +treasures of good and blessing. Drudgery, he tells us, is the secret +of all culture. He names as fundamentals in a strong, fine character, +"power of attention; power of industry; promptitude in beginning work; +method, accuracy, and despatch in doing work; perseverance; courage +before difficulties; cheer under straining burdens; self-control; +self-denial; temperance"; and claims that nowhere else can these +qualities be gotten save in the unending grind and pressure of those +routine duties which we call drudgery. "It is because we have to go, +morning after morning, through rain, through shine, through headache, +heartache, to the appointed spot and do the appointed work; because, +and only because, we have to stick to that work through the eight or +ten hours, long after rest would be so sweet; because the school-boy's +lessons must be learned at nine o'clock, and learned without a slip; +because the accounts on the ledger must square to a cent; because the +goods must tally exactly with the invoice; because good temper must be +kept with children, customers, neighbors, not seven times, but seventy +times seven; because the besetting sin must be watched to-day, +to-morrow, next day; in short, . . . it is because, and only because, +of the rut, plod, grind, hum-drum in the work, that we get at last +those self-foundations laid," which are essential to all noble +character. + +So there is a blessing for us in the commonest, wearisomest task-work +of our lives. "Blessed be drudgery" is truly a beatitude. We all need +the discipline of this tireless plodding to build us up into beautiful +character. Even the loveliest flowers must have their roots in common +earth; so, many of the sweetest things in human lives grow out of the +soil of drudgery. "Be thou, O man, like unto the rose. Its root is +indeed in dirt and mud, but its flowers still send forth grace and +perfume." + +Take again life's struggles and conflicts. There are, in the +experience of each one, obstacles, hindrances, and difficulties, which +make it hard to live successfully. Every one has to move onward and +upward through ranks of resistances. This is true of physical life. +Every baby that is born begins at once a struggle for existence. To be +victorious and live, or to succumb and die? is the question of every +cradle, and only half the babies born reach their teens. After that, +until its close, life is a continuous struggle with the manifold forms +of physical infirmity. If we live to be old it must be through our +victoriousness over the unceasing antagonism of accident and disease. + +The same is true in mental progress. It must be made against +resistance. It is never easy to become a scholar or to attain +intellectual culture. It takes years and years of study and discipline +to draw out and train the faculties of the mind. An indolent, +self-indulgent student may have an easy time; he never troubles himself +with difficult problems; he lets the hard things pass, not vexing his +brain with them. But in evading the burden he misses the blessing that +was in it for him. The only path to the joys and rewards of +scholarship is that of patient, persistent toil. + +It is true also in spiritual life. We enter a world of antagonism and +opposition the moment we resolve at Christ's feet to be Christians, to +be true men or women, to forsake sin, to obey God, to do our duty. +There never comes a day when we can live nobly and worthily without +effort, without resistance to wrong influences, without struggle +against the power of temptation. It never gets easy to be good. +Evermore the cross lies at our feet, and daily it must be taken up and +carried, if we would follow Christ. We are apt to grow weary of this +unending struggle, and to become discouraged, because there is neither +rest nor abatement in it. + +But here again we learn that it is out of just such struggles that we +must get the nobleness and beauty of character after which we are +striving. One of the old Scotch martyrs had on his crest the motto, +_Sub pondere cresco_ ("I grow under a weight"). On the crest was a +palm-tree, with weights depending from its fronds. In spite of the +weights the tree was straight as an arrow, lifting its crown of +graceful foliage high up in the serene air. It is well known that the +palm grows best loaded down with weights. Thus this martyr testified +that he, like the beautiful tree of the Orient, grew best in his +spiritual life under weights. + +This is the universal law of spiritual growth. There must be +resistance, struggle, conflict, or there can be no development of +strength. We are inclined to pity those whose lives are scenes of toil +and hardship, but God's angels do not pity them, if only they are +victorious; for in their overcoming they are climbing daily upward +toward the holy heights of sainthood. The beatitudes in the Apocalypse +are all for over-comers. Heaven's rewards and crowns lie beyond +battle-plains. Spiritual life always needs opposition. It flourishes +most luxuriantly in adverse circumstances. We grow best under weights. +We find our richest blessings in the burdens we dread to take up. + +The word "character" in its origin is suggestive. It is from a root +which signifies to scratch, to engrave, to cut into furrows. Then it +comes to mean that which is engraved or cut on anything. In life, +therefore, it is that which experiences cut or furrow in the soul. A +baby has no character. Its life is like a piece of white paper, with +nothing yet written upon it; or it is like a smooth marble tablet, on +which, as yet, the sculptor has cut nothing; or the canvas, waiting for +the painter's colors. Character is formed as the years go on. It is +the writing,--the song, the story, put upon the paper. It is the +engraving, the sculpturing, which the marble receives under the chisel. +It is the picture which the artist paints on the canvas. Final +character is what a man is when he has lived through all his earthly +years. In the Christian it is the lines of the likeness of Christ +limned, sometimes furrowed and scarred, upon his soul by the divine +Spirit through the means of grace and the experiences of his own life. + +I saw a beautiful vase, and asked its story. Once it was a lump of +common clay lying in the darkness. Then it was rudely dug out and +crushed and ground in the mill, and then put upon the wheel and shaped, +then polished and tinted and put into the furnace and burned. At last, +after many processes, it stood upon the table, a gem of graceful +beauty. In some way analogous to this every noble character is formed. +Common clay at first, it passes through a thousand processes and +experiences, many of them hard and painful, until at length it is +presented before God, faultless in its beauty, bearing the features of +Christ himself. + +Spiritual beauty never can be reached without cost. The blessing is +always hidden away in the burden, and can be gotten only by lifting the +burden. Self must die if the good in us is to live and shine out in +radiance. Michael Angelo used to say, as the chippings flew thick from +the marble on the floor of his studio, "While the marble wastes, the +image grows." There must be a wasting of self, a chipping away +continually of things that are dear to nature, if the things that are +true, and just, and honorable, and pure, and lovely, are to come out in +the life. The marble must waste while the image grows. + +Then take suffering. Here, too, the same law prevails. Every one +suffers. Said Augustine, "God had one Son without sin; he has none +without sorrow." From infancy's first cry until the old man's life +goes out in a gasp of pain, suffering is a condition of existence. It +comes in manifold forms. Now it is in sickness; the body is racked +with pain or burns in fever. Ofttimes sickness is a heavy burden. Yet +even this burden has a blessing in it for the Christian. Sickness +rightly borne makes us better. It unbinds the world's fetters. It +purifies the heart. It sobers the spirit. It turns the eyes +heavenward. It strips off much of the illusion of life and uncovers +its better realities. Sickness in a home of faith, prayer, and love, +softens all the household hearts, makes sympathy deeper, draws all the +family closer together. + +Trouble comes in many other forms. It may be a bitter disappointment +which falls upon a young life when love has not been true, or when +character has proved unworthy, turning the fair blossoms of hope to +dead leaves under the feet. There are lives that bear the pain and +carry the hidden memorials of such a grief through long years, making +them sad at heart even when walking in sweetest sunshine. + +Or it may be the failure of some other hope, as when one has followed a +bright dream of ambition for days and years, finding it only a dream. +Or it may be the keener, more bitter grief which comes to one when a +friend--a child, a brother or sister, a husband or wife--does badly. +In such a case even the divine comfort cannot heal the heart's hurt; +love cannot but suffer, and there is no hand that can lessen the pang. +The anguish which love endures for others' sins is among the saddest of +earth's sorrows. + +There are griefs that hang no crape on the door-bell, that wear no +black garments, that close no shutters, that drop no tears which men +can see, that can get no sympathy save that of the blessed Christ and +perhaps of a closest human brother, and must wear smiles before men and +go on with life's work as if all were gladness within the heart. If we +knew the inner life of many of the people we meet, we would be very +gentle with them and would excuse the things in them that seem strange +or eccentric to us. They are carrying burdens of secret grief. We do +not begin to know the sorrows of our brothers. + +There is no need to try to solve that old, yet always new, question of +human hearts, "Why does God permit so much suffering in his children?" +It is idle to ask this question, and all efforts at answering it are +not only vain, but they are even irreverent. We may be sure, however, +of one thing, that in every pain and trial there is a blessing folded. +We may miss it, but it is there, and the loss is ours if we do not get +it. Every night of sorrow carries in its dark bosom its own lamps of +comfort. The darkness of grief and trial is full of benedictions. + + "The dark hath many dear avails; + The dark distils divinest dews; + The dark is rich with nightingales, + With dreams, and with the heavenly muse. + + "Of fret, of dark, of thorn, of chill, + Complain thou not, my heart, for these + Bank in the current of the will." + + +The most blessed lives in the world are those that have borne the +burden of suffering. "Where, think you," asks James Martineau, "does +the Heavenly Father hear the tones of deepest love, and see on the +uplifted face the light of most heartfelt gratitude? Not where his +gifts are most profuse, but where they are most meagre; not within the +halls of successful ambition, or even in the dwellings of unbroken +domestic peace; but where the outcast, flying from persecution, kneels +in the evening on the rocks whereon he sleeps; at the fresh grave, +where, as the earth is opened, heaven in answer opens too; by the +pillow of the wasted sufferer, where the sunken eye, denied sleep, +converses with the silent stars, and the hollow voice enumerates in low +prayer the scanty list of comforts, the easily remembered blessings, +and the shortened tale of hopes. Genial, almost to a miracle, is the +soil of sorrow, wherein the smallest seed of love, timely falling, +becometh a tree, in whose foliage the birds of blessed song lodge and +sing unceasingly." + +The truly happiest, sweetest, tenderest homes are not those where there +has been no sorrow, but those which have been overshadowed with grief, +and where Christ's comfort was accepted. The very memory of the sorrow +is a gentle benediction that broods ever over the household, like the +afterglow of sunset, like the silence that comes after prayer. + +In every burden of sorrow there is a blessing sent from God, which we +ought not to thrust away. In one of the battles of the Crimea, a +cannon-ball struck inside a fort, gashing the earth and sadly marring +the garden beauty of the place. But from the ugly chasm there burst +forth a spring of water, which flowed on thereafter, a living fountain. +So the strokes of sorrow gash our hearts, leaving ofttimes wounds and +scars, but they open for us fountains of rich blessing and of new life. + + "Then Sorrow whispered gently: 'Take + This burden up. Be not afraid. + An hour is short. Thou scarce wilt wake + To consciousness that I have laid + My hand upon thee, when the hour + Shall all have passed; and gladder then + For the brief pain's uplifting power, + Thou shall but pity griefless men.'" + + +These are hints of the blessings of burdens. Our dull task-work, +accepted, will train us into strong and noble character. Our +temptations and hardships, met victoriously, knit thews and sinews of +strength in our souls. Our pain and sorrow, endured with sweet trust +and submission, leave us with life purified and enriched, with more of +Christ in us. In every burden that God lays upon us, there is a +blessing for us, if only we will take it. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +HEART-PEACE BEFORE MINISTRY. + + + "Like the star + That shines afar, + Without haste + And without rest, + Let each man wheel, with steady sway, + Round the task that rules the day, + And do his best." + --GOETHE. + + +Peace in the heart is one of the conditions of good work. We cannot do +our best in anything if we are fretted and anxious. A feverish heart +makes an inflamed brain, a clouded eye, and an unsteady hand. The +people who really accomplish the most, and achieve the best results, +are those of calm, self-controlled spirit. Those who are nervous and +excited may be always busy, and always under pressure of haste; but in +the end they do far less work than if they wrought calmly and steadily, +and were never in a hurry. + +Nervous haste is always hindering haste. It does faulty work, and does +but little of it in the end. Really rapid workers are always +deliberate in their movements, never appearing to be in any hurry +whatever; and yet they pass swiftly from task to task, doing each duty +well because they are calm and unflustered, and, with their wits about +them, work with clear eye, steady nerve, and skilful hand. + +An eminent French surgeon used to say to his students, when they were +engaged in difficult and delicate operations, in which coolness and +firmness were needed, "Gentlemen, don't be in a hurry; for there's no +time to lose." + +The people in all lines of duty who do the most work are the calmest, +most unhurried people in the community. Duties never wildly chase each +other in their lives. One task never crowds another out, nor ever +compels hurried, and therefore imperfect, doing. The calm spirit works +methodically, doing one thing at a time, and doing it well; and it +therefore works swiftly, though never appearing to be in haste. + +We need the peace of God in our heart just as really for the doing well +of the little things of our secular life as for the doing of the +greatest duties of Christ's kingdom. Our face ought to shine, and our +spirit ought to be tranquil, and our eye ought to be clear, and our +nerves ought to be steady, as we press through the tasks of our +commonest day. Then we shall do them all well, slurring nothing, +marring nothing. We want heart-peace before we begin any day's duties, +and we should wait at Christ's feet till we get his quieting touch upon +our heart ere we go forth. + +It is especially true in spiritual work that we must know the secret of +peace before we can minister either swiftly or effectively to others in +our Master's name. Feverishness of spirit makes the hand unskilful in +delicate duty. A troubled heart cannot give comfort to other troubled +hearts; it must first become calm and quiet. It is often said that one +who has suffered is prepared to help others in suffering; but this is +true only when one has suffered victoriously, and has passed up out of +the deep, dark valley of pain and tears to the radiant mountain-tops of +peace. An uncomforted mourner cannot be a messenger of consolation to +another in grief. One whose heart is still vexed and uncalmed cannot +be a physician to hearts with bleeding wounds. We must first have been +comforted of God ourselves, before we can comfort others in their +tribulations. + +The same is true of all spiritual ministry. We need a steady hand to +touch the work of Christ's kingdom. One of our Lord's earlier miracles +furnishes an illustration of this truth. Jesus was called to heal a +woman who lay sick of a great fever. One of the Gospels describes the +cure in these striking words: "He touched her hand, and the fever left +her; and she arose and ministered unto them." We readily understand +this record in its primary reference to the physical cure that was +wrought by our Lord. We know, of course, that the woman could not +minister to others while the fever was on her. When sore sickness +comes, the busiest, fullest hands must drop their tasks. No matter how +important the work is, how essential it may appear, it must be laid +down when painful illness seizes us. We must be healed of our fever +before we can minister. + +But there are other fevers besides those which burn in men's bodies. +There are heart-fevers which may rage within us, even when our bodies +are in perfect health. We find people with feverish spirits--unhappy, +discontented, fretted, worried, perhaps insubmissive and rebellious. +Or they may be in a fever of fear or dread. These inward fevers are +worse evils than mere bodily illness. It is better in sickness to have +our heart's fever depart, even though we must longer keep our pain, +than to recover our physical health, meanwhile keeping our fretfulness +and impatience uncured. + +We cannot minister while heart-fever of any kind is on us. We may go +on with our work, but we cannot do it well, and there will be little +blessing in it. Discontent hinders any life's usefulness. Jesus loved +Martha, and accepted her service because he knew she loved him; but he +plainly told her that her feverishness was not beautiful, and that it +detracted from the worth and the full acceptableness of the good work +she did; and he pointed her to Mary's quiet peace as a better way of +living and serving. Anxiety of any kind unfits us in some degree for +work. It is only when Christ comes and lays his hand upon our heart, +and cures its fever, that we are ready for ministering in his name in +the most efficient way. + +There is a little story of a busy woman's life which illustrates this +lesson. She was the mother of a large family, and, being in plain +circumstances, was required to do her own work. Sometimes, in the +multiplicity of her tasks and cares, she lost the sweetness of her +peace, and, like Martha, became troubled and worried with her much +serving. One morning she had been unusually hurried, and things had +not gone smoothly. She had breakfast to get for her family, her +husband to care for as he hasted away early to his work, and her +children to make ready for school. There were other household duties +which filled the poor, weak woman's hands, until her strength was +well-nigh utterly exhausted. And she had not gone through it all that +morning in a sweet, peaceful way. She had allowed herself to lose her +patience, and to grow fretful, vexed, and unhappy. She had spoken +quick, hasty, petulant words to her husband and her children. Her +heart had been in a fever of irritation and disquiet all the morning. + +When the children were gone, and the pressing tasks were finished, and +the house was all quiet, the tired woman crept upstairs to her own +room. She was greatly discouraged. She felt that her morning had been +a most unsatisfactory one; that she had sadly failed in her duty; that +she had grieved her Master by her want of patience and gentleness, and +had hurt her children's lives by her fretfulness and her ill-tempered +words. Shutting her door, she took up her Bible and read the story of +the healing of the sick woman: "He touched her hand, and the fever left +her; and she arose and ministered unto them." + +"Ah!" said she, "if I could have had that touch before I began my +morning's work, the fever would have left me, and I should have been +prepared to minister sweetly and peacefully to my family." She had +learned that she needed the touch of Christ to make her ready for +beautiful and gentle service. + +In contrast with this story, and showing the blessed sweetness and holy +influence of a life that gets Christ's touch in the morning, there is +this account by Archdeacon Farrar of his mother: "My mother's habit +was, every day, immediately after breakfast, to withdraw for an hour to +her own room, and to spend that hour in reading the Bible, in +meditation, and in prayer. From that hour, as from a pure fountain, +she drew the strength and the sweetness which enabled her to fulfil all +her duties, and to remain unruffled by all the worries and pettinesses +which are so often the intolerable trial of narrow neighborhoods. As I +think of her life, and of all it had to bear, I see the absolute +triumph of Christian grace in the lovely ideal of a Christian lady. I +never saw her temper disturbed; I never heard her speak one word of +anger, or of calumny, or of idle gossip. I never observed in her any +sign of a single sentiment unbecoming to a soul which had drunk of the +river of the water of life, and which had fed upon manna in the barren +wilderness. The world is the better for the passage of such souls +across its surface. They may seem to be as much forgotten as the drops +of rain which fall into the barren sea, but each rain-drop adds to the +volume of refreshful and purifying waters. 'The healing of the world +is in its nameless saints. A single star seems nothing, but a thousand +scattered stars break up the night and make it beautiful.'" + +There are many busy mothers to whom this lesson may come almost as a +revelation. No hands are fuller of tasks, no heart is fuller of cares, +than the hands and the heart of a mother of a large family of young +children. It is little wonder if sometimes she loses her sweetness of +spirit in the pressure of care that is upon her. But this lesson is +worth learning. Let the mothers wait on their knees each morning, +before they begin their work, for the touch of Christ's hand upon their +heart. Then the fever will leave them, and they can enter with calm +peace on the work of the long, hard day. + +The lesson, however, is for us all. We are in no condition for good +work of any kind when we are fretted and anxious in mind. It is only +when the peace of God is in our heart that we are ready for true and +really helpful ministry. A feverish heart makes a worried face, and a +worried face casts a shadow. A troubled spirit mars the temper and +disposition. It unfits one for being a comforter of others, for giving +cheer and inspiration, for touching other lives with good and helpful +impulses. Peace must come before ministry. We need to have our fever +cured before we go out to our work. Hence, we should begin each new +day at the Master's feet, and get his cooling, quieting touch upon our +hot hand. Then, and not till then, shall we be ready for good service +in his name. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +MORAL CURVATURES. + + + "I think we are too ready with complaint + In this fair world of God's. Had we no hope + Indeed beyond the zenith and the slope + Of yon gray blank sky, we might grow faint + To muse upon eternity's constraint + Round our aspirant souls; but since the scope + Must widen early, is it well to droop, + For a few days consumed in loss and taint?" + --MRS. BROWNING. + + +Our Lord's miracles are parables in act. A woman came to him bent +almost double, and went away straight. The human form is made for +erectness. This is one of the marks of nobility in man, in contrast +with the downward bending and looking of other animals. Man is the +only creature that bears this erect form. It is a part of the image of +God upon him. It indicates heavenly aspiration, hunger for God, desire +for pure and lofty things, capacity for immortal blessedness. It tells +of man's hope and home above the earth, beyond the stars. Says an old +writer, "God gave to man a face directed upwards, and bade him look at +the heavens, and raise his uplifted countenance toward the stars." The +Greek word for "man" meant the upward looking. The bending of the form +and face downward, toward the earth, has always been the symbol of a +soul turned unworthily toward lower things, forgetful of its true home. +Milton has this thought in describing Mammon:-- + + "Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell + From heaven; for even in heaven his looks and thoughts + Were always downward bent." + +The look of a man's eyes tells where his heart is, whither his desires +are reaching and tending, how his life is growing. + +There are a great many bent people in the world. Physical bending may +be caused by accident or disease, and is no mark of spiritual +curvature. Many a deformed body is the home of a noble and holy soul, +with eyes and aspirations turned upward toward God. I remember a woman +in my first parish who then for fourteen years had sat in her chair, +unable to lift hand or foot, every joint drawn, her wasted body +frightfully bent. Yet she had a transfigured face, telling of a +beautiful soul within. Joy and peace shone out through that poor +tortured body. Disease may drag down the erect form, until all its +beauty is gone, and the inner life meanwhile may be erect as an angel, +with its eyes and aspirations turned upward toward God. + +But there are crooked souls--souls that are bent down. This may be the +case even while the body is straight as an arrow. There are men and +women whose forms are admired for their erectness, their graceful +proportions, their lithe movements, their lovely features, yet whose +souls are debased, whose desires are grovelling, whose characters are +sadly misshapen and deformed. + +Sin always bends the soul. Many a young man comes out from a holy home +in the beauty and strength of youth, wearing the unsullied robes of +innocence, with eye clear and uplifted, with aspirations for noble +things, with hopes that are exalted; but a few years later he appears a +debased and ruined man, with soul bent sadly downward. The bending +begins in slight yieldings to sin, but the tendency unchecked grows and +fixes itself in the life in permanent moral disfigurement. + +A stage-driver had held the lines for many years, and when he grew old, +his hands were crooked into hooks, and his fingers were so stiffened +that they could not be straightened out. There is a similar process +that goes on in men's souls when they continue to do the same things +over and over. One who is trained from childhood to be gentle, kindly, +patient, to control the temper, to speak softly, to be loving and +charitable, will grow into the radiant beauty of love. One who +accustoms himself to think habitually and only of noble and worthy +things, who sets his affections on things above, and strives to reach +"whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever +things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely," will grow continually +upward, toward spiritual beauty. But on the other hand, if one gives +way from childhood to all ugly tempers, all resentful feelings, all +bitterness and anger, his life will shape itself into the unbeauty of +these dispositions. One whose mind turns to debasing things, things +unholy, unclean, will find his whole soul bending and growing toward +the earth in permanent moral curvature. + +There is also a bending of the life by sorrow. The experience of +sorrow is scarcely less perilous than that of temptation. The common +belief is that grief always makes people better. But this is not true. +If the sufferer submits to God with loving confidence, and is +victorious through faith, sorrow's outcome is blessing and good. But +many are crushed by their sorrow. They yield to it, and it bears them +down beneath its weight. They turn their faces away from heaven's blue +and the light of God, toward the grave's darkness, and their souls grow +toward the gloom. + +Here is a mother who several years since lost by death a beautiful +daughter. The mother was a Christian woman, and her child was also a +Christian, dying in sweet hope. Yet never since that coffin was closed +has the mother lifted up her eyes toward God in submission and hope. +She visits the cemetery on Sundays, but never the church. She goes +with downcast look about her home, weeping whenever her daughter's name +is mentioned, and complains of God's hardness and unkindness in taking +away her child. She is bent down with her eyes to the earth, and sees +only the clods and the dust and the grave's gloom, and sees not the +blue sky, the bright stars, and the sweet face of the Father. So long +has she now been thus bowed down in the habit of sadness and grieving, +that she can in no wise lift herself up. + +Since I began to write this chapter I have had a long talk with one +whose life is sorely bent. Ten years since I first knew her as a +bright and happy young girl, her face sunny in the light of God's love. +Trouble came into her life in many forms. Her own father proved +unworthy, failing in all the sacred duties of affection toward his +child. Events in her own life were disappointing and discouraging. +Friends in whom she had trusted failed in that faithfulness and +helpfulness which one has a right to expect from one's friends. There +was a succession of unhappy experiences, through several years, all +tending to hurt her heart-life. As the result of all this, she has +become embittered and hardened, not only against those who have wronged +her and treated her unjustly, but even against God. So long has she +yielded to these feelings that her whole life has been bent down from +its upward, Godward look into settled despondency. God has altogether +faded out of her soul's vision, and she thinks of him only as unkind +and unjust. To restore her life to its former brightness and beauty +will require a moral miracle as great as that by which the body of the +crooked woman was made straight. + +Then there are lives also that are bowed down by toil and care. For +many people, life's burdens are very heavy. There are fathers of large +families who sometimes find their load almost more than they can bear, +in their efforts to provide for those who are dear to them. There are +mothers who, under their burdens of household care, at times feel +themselves bowed down, and scarcely able longer to go on. In all +places of responsibility, where men are called to stand, the load many +times grows very heavy, and stalwart forms bend under it. This world's +work is hard for most of us. Life is not play to any who take it +earnestly. + +And many persons yield to the weight of a duty, and let themselves be +bent down under it. We see men bowing under their load, until their +very body grows crooked, and they can look only downward. We see them +become prematurely old. The light goes out of their eyes; the +freshness fades out of their cheeks; the sweetness leaves their spirit. +Few things in life are sadder than the way some people let themselves +be bent down by their load of duty or care. There really is no reason +why this should be so. God never puts any greater burden upon us than +we are able to bear, with the help he is ready to give. Christ stands +ever close beside us, willing to carry the heaviest end of every load +that is laid upon us. + +Men never break down so long as they keep a happy, joyous heart. It is +the sad heart that tires. Whatever our load, we should always keep a +songful spirit in our breast. There are two ways of meeting hard +experiences. One way is to struggle and resist, refusing to yield. +The result is, the wounding of the soul and the intensifying of the +hardness. The other way is sweetly to accept the circumstances or the +restraints, to make the best of them, and to endure them songfully and +cheerfully. Those who live in the first of these ways grow old at +mid-life. Those who take the other way of life keep a young, happy +heart even to old age. + +The true way to live is to yield to no burden; to carry the heaviest +load with courage and gladness; never to let one's eyes be turned +downward toward the earth, but to keep them ever lifted up to the +hills. Men whose work requires them to stoop all the time--to work in +a bent posture--every now and then may be seen straightening themselves +up, taking a long, deep breath of air, and looking up toward the skies. +Thus their bodies are preserved in health and erectness in spite of +their work. Whatever our toil or burden, we should train ourselves to +look often upward, to stand erect, and get a frequent glimpse of the +sky of God's love, and a frequent breath of heaven's pure, sweet air. +Thus we shall keep our souls erect under the heaviest load of work or +care. + +The miracle of the straightening of the woman who was bent double, has +its gospel of precious hope for any who have failed to learn earlier +the lesson of keeping straight. The bowed down may yet be lifted up. +The curvature of eighteen years' growth and stiffening was cured in a +moment. The woman who for so long had not been able to look up, went +away with her eyes upturned to God in praise. + +The same miracle Christ is able to work now upon souls that are bent, +whether by sin, by sorrow, or by life's load of toil. He can undo +sin's terrible work, and restore the divine image to the soul. He can +give such comfort to the sad heart that eyes long downcast shall be +lifted up to look upon God's face in loving submission and joy. He can +put such songs into the hearts of the weary and overwrought that the +crooked form shall grow straight, and brightness shall come again into +the tired face. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +TRANSFIGURED LIVES. + + + "The lives which seem so poor, so low, + The hearts which are so cramped and dull, + The baffled hopes, the impulse slow, + Thou takest, touchest all, and lo! + They blossom to the beautiful." + --SUSAN COOLIDGE. + + +Every Christian's life should be transfigured. There is a sense in +which even a true believer's body becomes transfigured. We have all +seen faces that appeared to shine as if there were some hidden light +behind them. There are some old people who have learned well life's +lessons of patience, peace, contentment, love, trust, and hope, and +whose faces really glow as they near the sunset gates. Sometimes it is +a saintly sufferer, who, in long endurance of pain, learns to lie on +Christ's bosom in sweet unmurmuring quiet, and whose features take upon +themselves increasingly the brightness of holy peace. + +But whatever grace may do for the body, it always transfigures the +character. The love of God finds us ruined sinners, and leaves us +glorified saints. We are predestinated "to be conformed to the image +of his Son." Nor are we to wait for death to transform us; the work +should begin at once. We have a responsibility, too, in this work. +The sculptor takes the blackened marble block and hews it into a form +of beauty. The marble is passive in his hands, and does nothing but +submit to be cut and hewn and polished as he will. But we are not +insensate marble; we have a part in the fashioning of our lives into +spiritual holiness. We will never become like Christ without our own +desire and effort. + +We ought to know well what our part is, what we have to do with our own +sanctification. How, then, may we become transfigured Christians? + +There is a transfiguring power in prayer. It was as our Lord was +praying that the fashion of his countenance was altered. What is +prayer? It is far more than the tame saying over of certain forms of +devotion. It is the pouring out of the heart's deepest cravings. It +is the highest act of which the soul is capable. When you pray truly, +all that is best, noblest, most exalted, purest, heavenliest in you, +presses up toward God. Hence earnest prayer always lights up the very +face, and lifts up the life into higher, holier mood. We grow toward +that which we much desire. Hence prayers for Christ-likeness have a +transfiguring effect. + +Holy thoughts in the heart have also a transfiguring influence on the +life. "As he thinketh in his heart, so is he." If we allow +jealousies, envies, ugly tempers, pride, and other evil things to stay +in our heart, our life will grow into the likeness of these unlovely +things. But if we cherish pure, gentle, unselfish, holy thoughts and +feelings, our life will become beautiful. + +Professor Drummond tells of a young girl whose character ripened into +rare loveliness. Her friends watched her growing gentleness and +heavenliness with wonder. They could not understand the secret of it. +She wore about her neck a little locket within which no one was allowed +to look. Once, however, she was very ill, and one of her companions +was permitted then to open this sacred ornament, and she saw there the +words, "Whom having not seen I love." This was the secret. It was +love for the unseen Christ that transfigured her life. If we think +continually of the Christ, meditating upon him, thinking over sweet +thoughts of him, and letting his love dwell within us, we shall grow +like him. + +Communion with Christ transfigures a life. Every one we meet leaves a +touch upon us which becomes part of our character. Our lives are like +sheets of paper, and every one who comes writes a word, or a line, or +leaves a little picture painted there. Our intimate companions and +friends, who draw very close to us, and are much with us, entering into +our inner heart-life, make very deep impressions upon us. + +If, therefore, we live with Christ, abide in him, the close, continued +companionship with him will change us into his likeness. Personal +friendship with Christ in this world is as possible as any merely human +friendship. The companionship is spiritual, but it is real. The +devout Christian has no other friend who enters so fully into his life +as does the Lord Christ Jesus. The effect of this companionship is the +transfiguring of the character. It is not without reason that the +artists paint the beloved disciple as likest his Lord in features. He +knew Jesus more intimately than any of the other disciples, and, in his +deeper, closer companionship, was more affected and impressed by the +Lord's beauty of holiness. + +Again, keeping the eye upon the likeness of Christ transfigures the +life. The old monks intently gazed upon the crucifix, and they said +that the prints of the nails would come in their hands and feet, and +the thorn-scars in their brow as they beheld. It was but a gross +fancy; yet in the fancy there is a spiritual truth. Gazing by faith +upon Christ, the lines of his beauty indeed print themselves on our +hearts. This is the meaning of St. Paul's word: "We all, with unveiled +face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are transformed +into the same image." The Gospel is the mirror. There we see the +image of Christ. If we earnestly, continually, and lovingly behold it, +the effect will be the changing of our own lives into the same +likeness. The transformation is wrought by the divine Spirit, and our +part is only to behold, to continue beholding, the blessed beauty. We +sit before the camera, and our own picture is printed on the prepared +glass. We sit before Christ, and we become the camera, and his image +is printed on our soul. + +There is a pathetic story of a French sculptor, which illustrates the +sacredness with which life's ideal should be cherished and guarded. He +was a genius, and was at work on his masterpiece. But he was a poor +man, and lived in a small garret, which was studio, workshop, and +bedroom to him. He had his statue almost finished, in clay, when one +night there came suddenly a great frost over the city. The sculptor +lay on his bed, with his statue before him in the centre of the +fireless room. As the chill air came down upon him, he knew that in +the intense cold there was danger that the water in the interstices of +the clay would freeze and destroy his precious work. So the old man +arose from his bed, and took the clothes that had covered him in his +sleep, and reverently wrapped them about his statue to save it, then +lay down himself in the cold, uncovered. In the morning, when his +friends came in, they found the old sculptor dead; but the image was +preserved unharmed. + +We each have in our soul, if we are true believers in Christ, a vision +of spiritual loveliness into which we are striving to fashion our +lives. This vision is our conception of the character of Christ. +"That is what I am going to be some day," we say. Far away beyond our +present attainment as this vision may shine, yet we are ever striving +to reach it. This is the ideal which we carry in our heart amid all +our toiling and struggling. This ideal we must keep free from all +marring or stain. We must save it though, like the old sculptor, we +lose our very life in guarding it. We should be willing to die rather +than give it up to be destroyed. We should preserve the image of +Christ, bright, radiant, unsoiled, in our soul, until it transforms our +dull, sinful, earthly life into its own transfigured beauty. + +No other aim in life is worthy of an immortal being. We may become +like the angels; what debasement, then, to let our lives, with all +their glorious possibilities, be dragged down into the dust of shame +and dishonor! Rather let us seek continually the glory for which we +were made and redeemed. "Beloved, now are we children of God, and it +is not yet made manifest what we shall be. We know that, if he shall +be manifested, we shall be like him; for we shall see him even as he +is. And every one that hath this hope set on him purifieth himself, +even as he is pure." + + "Wonderful the whiteness of thy glory; + Can we truly that perfection share? + Yes; our lives are pages of thy story, + We thy shape and superscription bear; + Tarnished forms--torn leaves--but thou canst mend them, + Thou thine own completeness canst unfold + From our imperfections, and wilt end them-- + Dross consuming, turning dust to gold." + + +A drop of water lay one day in a gutter, soiled, stained, polluted. +Looking up into the blue of the sky, it began to wish for purity, to +long to be cleansed and made crystalline. Its sigh was heard, and it +was quickly lifted up by the sun's gentle fingers--up, out of the foul +gutter, into the sweet air, then higher and higher; at length the +gentle winds caught it and bore it away, away, and by and by it rested +on a distant mountain-top, a flake of pure, white, beautiful snow. + +This is a little parable of what the grace of God does for every sinful +life that longs and cries for purity and holiness. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE INTERPRETATION OF SORROW. + + + "So much we miss + If love is weak; so much we gain + If love is strong; God thinks no pain + Too sharp or lasting to ordain + To teach us this." + --HELEN HUNT JACKSON. + + +There will always be mysteries in sorrow. Men will always wonder what +it means. It is impossible for us, with our earthly limitations, to +understand it. Even the strongest Christian faith will have its +questions, and many of its questions will have to remain unanswered +until the horizon of life is widened, and its dim light becomes full +and clear in heaven. Meanwhile, however, some of these questions may +be at least partially answered, and grief's poignancy in some slight +measure alleviated. And surely no smallest gleam of comfort should be +withheld from the world that needs comfort so sorely, and cries out so +hungrily for it. + +Human hearts are the same everywhere. Sorrow's experiences, while +strangely diverse, are yet alike in their general features. Wherever +we listen to the suppressed voices of grief, we hear the same +questions. What has been answer to one, will therefore be answer to +thousands more. Recently, in one day, two letters came to me from +sorrowing ones, with questions. Whether any comfort was given in the +private answers or not, it may be that the mere stating of the +questions, with a few sentences concerning each, may be helpful to +others who are carrying like burdens. + +One of these letters is from a Christian man whose only son has been +led into sinful courses, swiftly descending to the saddest depths. The +story is too painful to be repeated in these pages. In his sore +distress, the father, a godly man, a man of strong faith and noble +wisdom, cries out: "What is the comfort even of Christ and the Bible +for me? How can I roll this burden of mine upon God?" + +In answer to these questions it must be remembered that there are some +things which even the richest, divinest comfort cannot do. For one +thing, it cannot take away the pain of grief or sorrow. Our first +thought of comfort usually is that it shall lift off our burden. We +soon learn, however, that it is not in this way that comfort ordinarily +comes. It does not make the grief any less. It does not make our +hearts any less sensitive to anguish. "Consolation implies rather an +augmentation of the power of bearing than a diminution of the burden." +In this case, it cannot lift off the loving father's heart the burden +of disappointment and anguish which he experiences in seeing his son +swept away in the currents of temptation. No possible comfort can do +this. The perfect peace in which God promises to keep those whose +minds are stayed on him, is not a painless peace in any case of +suffering. The crushed father cannot expect a comfort which will make +him forget his wandering, sinning child, or which will cause him to +feel no longer the poignant anguish which the boy's course causes in +his heart. Father-love must be destroyed to make such comforting +possible, and that would be a sorer calamity than any sorrow. + +The comfort in such a grief, is that which comes through faith in God +even in the sore pain. The child was given to God in his infancy, and +was brought up as God's child along his early years. Who will say that +he may not yet, in some way, at some time, be brought back to God? The +daily burden may then daily be laid in the divine hands. The heart's +anguish may express itself not in despairing cries, but in believing +prayers, inspired by the promises, and kindled into fervency by blessed +hope. Then peace will come, not painless peace, but peace which lies +on Christ's bosom in the darkness, and loves and trusts and asks no +questions, but waits with all of hope's expectancy. + +At the same time we are never to forget, while we trust God for the +outcome of our disappointments, that every sorrow has its mission to +our life. There is something he desires it to work in us. What it may +be in any particular instance we cannot tell; nor is it wise for us to +ask. The wisest, truest thing we can do is reverently to open our +hearts to the ministry of the sorrow, asking God to do his will in us, +not allowing us to hinder the beautiful work he would do, and helping +us to rejoice even in the grief. The tears may continue to flow, but +then with Mrs. Browning we can sing:-- + + "I praise thee while my days go on; + I love thee while my days go on; + Through dark and death, through fire and frost, + With emptied arms and treasure lost, + I thank thee while my days go on." + + +The other letter referred to is from another father, over whom wave +after wave of sorrow had passed. Within a brief space of time two +children were taken away. The one was a son who had entered his +professional career, and had large hope and promise for the future--a +young man of rare abilities and many noble qualities. The other was a +daughter, who had reached womanhood, and was a happy and beloved wife, +surrounded by friends and the refinements of a beautiful home, and all +that makes life sweet and desirable. Both of these children God took, +one soon after the other. The father, a man of most tender affections, +and yet of implicit faith in God, uttered no murmur when called to +stand at the graves of his beloved ones; and yet his heart cries out +for interpretation. + +He writes: "In one of your books[1] I find these words: 'Sometimes our +best beloved are taken away from us, and our hearts are left bleeding, +as a vine bleeds when a green branch is cut from it. . . . Here it is +that Christian faith comes in, putting such interpretation and +explanation upon the painful things, that we may be ready to accept +them with confidence, even with rejoicing. . . . A strong, abiding +confidence that all the trials, sorrows, and losses of our lives are +parts of our Father's husbandry, ought to silence every question, quiet +every fear, and give peace and restful assurance to our hearts in all +their pain. We cannot know the reason for the painful strokes, but we +know that he who holds the pruning-knife is our Father. That ought +always to be enough for us to know.'" + +Having quoted these words, he continues: "Now I do not question the +Father's husbandry. I would also 'silence every question' concerning +his wisdom and his love. I would not doubt them for a moment. When I +found that my only son, my pride and my staff, must die, I prayed with +such strong crying and tears as only they can know who are in like +circumstances, yet feeling that I could give back to God what he had +lent me without a murmur. By his help, I believe even the slightest +murmur has been repressed concerning the painful things, and that in +some measure I have been ready to accept them with confidence, even +with rejoicing. But my faith has not come in, as you suggest, to put +'such interpretation and explanation' upon them, as perhaps I ought to +do. Why has God thus dealt with me? Why was a double stroke +necessary? Is his dealing with me purely disciplinary? What are the +lessons he would teach me? How am I to test myself as to whether his +purpose in afflicting me has been accomplished? Or am I not anxiously +to inquire concerning the specific lessons, but rather to let him show +in due time what he designed? Such questions multiply without answer." + +Has not this writer in his own last suggestion stated what should be +done by those who are perplexed with questions as to the interpretation +of sorrow? They should not anxiously inquire concerning the specific +lessons, but rather let God show in due time what he designed. No +doubt every sorrow has a mission. It comes to us, as God's messenger, +with a message. If we will welcome it reverently, and be still while +it gives its message, no doubt we shall receive some benediction. + +Yet we must look at this whole matter carefully and wisely. We are in +danger of thinking only of ourselves, and of the effect upon us and our +life of the griefs that smite us. We think too often of our +bereavements, for example, as if God took away the friend, ending his +life, just to chasten or punish us. But we have no right to take so +narrow a view of God's design in the removal of loved ones from our +side. His purpose concerns them as well as us. They are called away +because their work on earth is done, and higher service in other +spheres awaits them. To them death is gain, promotion, translation. +The event itself, in its primary significance, is a joyous and blessed +one. The sorrow which we experience in their removal is but an +incident. God cannot take them home to glory from our side, without +giving us pain. But we must not reverse this order and think that the +primary end of the calling away of our beloved ones is to chasten us, +or to cause us to suffer. No doubt there is blessing for us as well as +for them in their leaving us, since all things work together for good +to them that love God; but we unduly exaggerate our own importance when +we think of God as laying a beautiful life low in death merely to teach +us some lesson or give to us some blessing. + +When we look at our bereavements in this light, and think of what death +means to our beloved ones who have been taken from us, we find new +comfort in the thought of their immortality, their release from +suffering and temptation, and their full blessedness with Christ. It +is selfish for us to forget this in the absorption of our own grief. +Should we not be willing to endure loss and pain that those dear to us +may receive gain and blessing? + +Even in life's relationships on the earth we are continually taught the +same lesson. Parents must give up their children, losing them out of +the home nest, that they may go forth into the world to take up life's +duties for themselves. Then also the separation is painful, but it is +borne in the sweet silence of self-denying love. We give up our +friends when they are called from our side to accept other and higher +places. Life is full of such separations, and we are taught that it is +our duty to think of others, bearing our own loss in patience for their +sake. Does not the same law of love "that seeketh not its own" apply +when our beloved ones are called up higher? + +Of lessons to be learned in sorrow the first always is submission. We +are told even of our Lord that he "learned obedience by the things +which he suffered." This is life's great, all-inclusive lesson. When +we have learned this fully, perfectly, the work of sanctification in us +is complete. + +Then another lesson in all sorrow comes in the softening and enriching +of the life in order to greater personal helpfulness. It is sad for us +if for any cause we miss this blessed outcome of grief and pain. +Christ suffered in all points that he might be fitted for his work of +helping and saving men. God teaches us in our sorrow what he would +have us tell others in their time of trial. Those who suffer patiently +and sweetly go forth with new messages for others, and with new power +to comfort. + +Beyond these two wide, general lessons of all sorrow, it usually is not +wise to press our question, "Why is it?" It is better for us so to +relate ourselves to God in every time of trial, that we may not hinder +the coming to us of any blessing he may send, but on the other hand, +may receive with quiet, sweet welcome whatever teaching, correction, +revealing, purifying, or quickening he would give us. Surely this is +better far than that we should anxiously inquire why God afflicts us, +why he sent the sorrow to us, just what he wants it to do for us. We +must trust God to work out in us what he wants the grief to do for us. +We need not trouble ourselves to know what he is doing. + +Mercifully our old duties come again after sorrow just as before, and +we must take these all up, only putting into them more heart, more +reverence toward God, more gentleness and love toward man. As we go on +we shall know what God meant the grief to do for us; or if not in this +world, we shall in that home of Light, where all mystery shall be +explained, and where we shall see love's lesson plain and clear in all +life's strange writing. There is no doubt that sorrow always brings us +an opportunity for blessing. Then we must remember that in this world +alone can we get the good that can come to us only through pain, for in +the life beyond death there is to be no sorrow, no tears. An old +Eastern proverb says, "Spread wide thy skirts when heaven is raining +gold." Heaven is always raining gold when we are sitting under the +shadow of the cross. We should diligently improve the opportunity, and +learn the lessons he would teach and get the blessings he would give, +for the time is short. + + "But if, impatient, thou let slip thy cross, + Thou wilt not find it in this world again, + Nor in another; here, and here alone, + Is given thee to suffer for God's sake. + In other worlds we shall more perfectly + Serve him and love him, praise him, work for him, + Grow near and nearer him with all delight; + But there we shall not any more be called + To _suffer_, which is our appointment here." + + + +[1] "Practical Religion," page 107 + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +OTHER PEOPLE. + + + "We need--each and all--to be needed, + To feel we have something to give + Towards soothing the moan of earth's hunger; + And we know that then only we live + When we feed one another, as we have been fed + From the hand that gives body and spirit their bread." + --LUCY LARCOM. + + +There are other people. We are not the only ones. Some of the others +live close to us, and some farther away. We stand in certain relations +to these other people. They have claims upon us. We owe them duties, +services, love. We cannot cut ourselves off from them, from any of +them, saying that they are nothing to us. We cannot rid ourselves of +obligations to them and say we owe them nothing. So inexorable is this +relation to others that in all the broad earth there is not an +individual who has no right to come to us with his needs, claiming at +our hand the ministry of love. The other people are our brothers, and +there is not one of them that we have a right to despise, or neglect, +or hurt, or thrust away from our door. + +We ought to train ourselves to think of the other people. We may not +leave them out of any of the plans that we make. We must think of +their interests and good when we are thinking of our own. They have +rights as well as ourselves, and we must think of these when asserting +our own. No man may set his fence a hair's breadth over the line on +his neighbor's ground. No man may gather even a head of his neighbor's +wheat, or a cluster of grapes from his neighbor's vine. No man may +enter his neighbor's door unbidden. No man may do anything that will +harm his neighbor. Other people have inalienable rights which we may +not invade. + +We owe other people more than their rights; we owe them love. To some +of them it is not hard to pay this debt. They are lovable and winsome. +They are thoroughly respectable. They are congenial spirits, giving us +in return quite as much as we can give them. It is natural to love +these and be very kindly and gentle to them. But we have no liberty of +selection in this broad duty of loving other people. We may not choose +whom we shall love if we claim to be Christians. The Master's teaching +is inexorable: "If ye love them that love you, what thank have ye? for +even sinners love those that love them. And if ye do good to them that +do good to you, what thank have ye? for even sinners do the same. And +if ye lend to them of whom ye hope to receive, what thank have ye? even +sinners lend to sinners, to receive again as much. But love your +enemies, and do them good, and lend, never despairing; and your reward +shall be great, and ye shall be sons of the Most High; for he is kind +toward the unthankful and evil." + +The good Samaritan is our Lord's answer to the question, "Who is my +neighbor?" and the good Samaritan's neighbor was a bitter enemy, who, +in other circumstances, would have spurned him from his presence. +Other people may not be beautiful in their character, nor congenial in +their habits, manners, modes of life, or disposition; they may even be +unkind to us, unjust, unreasonable, in strict justice altogether +undeserving of our favor; yet if we persist in being called Christians +ourselves we owe them the love that thinketh no evil, that seeketh not +its own, that beareth all things, endureth all things, and never +faileth. + +No doubt it is hard to love the other people who hate us. It is not so +hard just to let them alone, to pass them by without harming them, or +even to pray for them in a way; but to love them--that is a sore test. +We are apt to ask:-- + + "Dear Lord, will it not do, + If we return not wrong for wrong, + And neither love nor hate? + But love--O Lord, our souls are far from strong, + And love is such a tender, home-nursed dove-- + How can we, Lord, our enemies bless and love? + + "Fasting--Oh, one could fast-- + And praying--one could most pathetic pray; + But love our enemies! Dear Lord, + Is there not unto thee some easier way-- + Some way through churchly service, song, or psalm, + Or ritual grand, to reach thy heaven's calm?" + + +But there comes no answer of Christly indulgence to such questions. +Other people, though they be our enemies, are not thus taken out of the +circle of those to whom we owe love. Our part is always pictured for +us in the example of the good Samaritan. + +That is, we owe other people service. Service goes with loving. We +cannot love truly and not serve. Love without serving is but an empty +sentiment, a poor mockery. God so loved the world that he gave. Love +always gives. If it will not give it is not love. It is measured +always by what it will give. The needs of other people are therefore +divine commands to us, which we dare not disregard or disobey. To +refuse to bless a brother who stands before us in any kind of want is +as great a sin as to break one of the positive commandments of the +Decalogue. Indeed, in a sense, it is the breaking of the whole second +table of the commandments--the sense of which is, "Thou shalt love thy +neighbor as thyself." + +We like to think there is no sin in mere not doing. But Jesus, in his +wonderful picture of the Last Judgment, makes men's condemnation turn +on not doing the things they ought to have done. They have simply not +fed the hungry, not clothed the naked, not visited the sick, not +blessed the prisoner. To make these sins of neglect appear still more +grievous, our Lord makes a personal matter of each case, puts himself +in the place of the sufferer who needs it and is not cared for, and +tells us that all neglects to give needed kindness to any are shown to +him. This divine word gives a tremendous interest to other people, who +are brought providentially into the sphere of our life, so that their +wants of whatever kind may make appeal to our sympathy and kindness. +To neglect them is to neglect Christ. He sends them to us. They +represent him. To turn them away is to turn him away. + +This matter of serving has multitudinous forms. Sometimes it is +poverty that stands at our gate, and money help is wanted. A thousand +times more frequently, however, it is not money, but something else +more precious, that we must give. It may be loving sympathy. Sorrow +is before us. Another's heart is breaking. Money would be of no use; +it would be only bitter mockery to offer it. But we can hold to the +neighbor's lips a cup of the wine of love, filled out of our own heart, +which will give new strength to the sufferer. Or it is the anguish of +a life struggle, a human Gethsemane, beside which we are called to +watch. We can give no actual aid--the soul must fight its battles +alone; but we can be as the angel that ministered in our Lord's +Gethsemane, imparting strength, and helping the weary struggler to win +the victory. + +The world is very full of sorrow and trial, and we cannot live among +our fellow-men and be true without sharing their loads. If we are +happy we must hold the lamp of our happiness so that its beams will +fall upon the shadowed heart. If we have no burden it is our duty to +put our shoulders under the load of others. Selfishness must die or +else our own heart's life must be frozen within us. We soon learn that +we cannot live for ourselves and be Christians; that the blessings that +are given to us are really for other people, and that we are only God's +ministers, to carry them in Christ's name to those for whom they are +intended. + +We begin to felicitate ourselves upon some special prosperity, and the +next moment some human need knocks at our door, and we must share our +good things with a suffering brother. We may build up our fine +theories of taking care of ourselves, of living for the future, of +laying up in the summer of prosperity for the winter of adversity, of +providing for old age or for our children; but ofttimes all these +frugal and economic plans have to yield to the exigencies of human +need. The love that seeketh not its own plays havoc with life's hard +logic, and with the plans of mere self-interest. We cannot say that +anything is our own when our brother is suffering for what we can give. + + "Herein is love: to strip the shoulders bare. + If need be, that a frailer one may wear + A mantle to protect it from the storm; + To bear the frost-king's breath so one be warm; + To crush the tears it would be sweet to shed, + And smile so others may have joy instead. + + "Herein is love: to daily sacrifice + The hope that to the bosom closest lies; + To mutely bear reproach and suffer wrong, + Nor lift the voice to show where both belong; + Nay, now, nor tell it e'en to God above-- + Herein is love indeed, herein is love." + + +Not a day passes in the commonest experiences of life, in which other +people do not stand before us with their needs, appealing to us for +some service which we may render to them. It may be only ordinary +courtesy, the gentle kindness of the home circle, the patient treatment +of neighbors or customers in business relations, the thoughtful showing +of interest in old people or in children. On all sides the lives of +others touch ours, and we cannot do just as we please, thinking only of +ourselves, and our own comfort and good, unless we choose to be false +to all the instincts of humanity, and all the requirements of the law +of Christian love. We must think continually of other people. + +We may not seek our own pleasure in any way without asking whether it +will harm or mar the comfort of some other one. For example, we must +think of other people's convenience in the exercise of our own liberty +and in the indulgence of our own tastes and desires. It may be +pleasant for us to lie late in bed in the morning, and we may be +inclined to regard the habit as only a little amiable self-indulgence. +But there is a more serious side to the practice. It breaks the +harmonious flow of the household life. It causes confusion in the +family plans for the day. It makes extra work for faithful +housekeepers or servants. It sorely tries the patience of love. + +The other day an important committee of fifteen was kept waiting for +ten minutes for one tardy member, whose presence was necessary before +anything could be done. At last he came sauntering in without even an +apology for having caused fourteen busy men a loss of time that to them +was very valuable, besides having put a sore strain on their patience +and good nature. We have no right to forget or disregard the +convenience of others. A conscientious application of the Golden Rule +would cure us of all such carelessness. + +These are but illustrations of the way other people impinge upon our +life. They are so close to us that we cannot move without touching +them. We cannot speak but that our words affect others. We cannot act +in the simplest things without first thinking whether what we are about +to do will help or hurt others. We are but one of a great family, and +we dare not live for ourselves. We must never forget that there are +other people. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE BLESSING OF FAITHFULNESS. + + + "It must be done by both; God never without me, + I never without God." + --JOHANNES SCHEFFLER. + + +"Faithful servant" will be the commendation on the judgment-day of +those who have lived well on the earth. Not great deeds will be +commended, but faithfulness. The smallest ministries will rank with +the most conspicuous, if they are all that the weak hands could do. +Indeed, the widow's two mites were more in value than the rich men's +large coins. + + "Two mites, two drops, but all her house and land + Fell from an earnest heart but trembling hand; + The others' wanton wealth foamed high and brave; + The others cast away, she only gave." + + +Yet faithfulness as a measure of requirement is not something that can +be reached without effort. It does not furnish a pillow for indolence. +It is not a letting down of obligation to a low standard, to make life +easy. It is indeed a lofty measurement. "Thou hast been faithful" is +the highest possible commendation. + +It may not be amiss to look a little at the meaning of the word as a +standard of moral requirement. In general, it implies the doing of all +our work as well as we can. All our work includes, of course, our +business, our trade, our household duties, all our daily task-work, as +well as our praying, our Bible-reading, and our obeying of the moral +law. We must not make the mistake of thinking that there is no +religion in the way we do the common work of our trade or of our +household, or our work on the farm, or in the mill or store. The +faithfulness Christ requires and commends takes in all these things. +Ofttimes, too, it would be easier to be faithful in some great trial, +requiring sublimity of courage, than in the little unpicturesque duties +of an ordinary day. Says Phillips Brooks: "You picture to yourself the +beauty of bravery and steadfastness. You let your imagination wander +in delight over the memory of martyrs who have died for truth. And +then some little, wretched, disagreeable duty comes, which is your +martyrdom, the lamp of your oil; and if you will not do it, how your +oil is spilt! How flat and thin and unilluminated your sentiment about +the martyrs runs out over your self-indulgent life!" + +Lovers of the violin are familiar with the name of Stradivarius, the +old violin-maker of Cremona. He has been dead nearly two hundred +years, and his violins now bring fabulous prices. George Eliot, in one +of her poems, puts some noble words into the mouth of the old man. +Speaking of the masters who will play on his violins, he says:-- + + "While God gives them skill, + I give them instruments to play upon, + God choosing me to help him." + + +Referring to another violin-maker, his rival, he says:-- + + "But were his the best, + He could not work for two. + My work is mine, + And, heresy or not, if my hand slacked, + I should rob God--since he is fullest good-- + Leaving a blank instead of violins. + I say, not God himself can make man's best + Without best men to help him. + * * * * * * + 'Tis God gives skill, + But not without men's hands. + He could not make + Antonio Stradivari's violins + Without Antonio." + + +At first reading these words may indeed seem heretical and irreverent, +but they are not. It is true, indeed, that even God cannot do our work +without us, without our skill, our faithfulness. If we fail or do our +little duty negligently, there will be a blank or a blur where there +ought to have been something beautiful. As another says, "The universe +is not quite perfect without my work well done." + +One man is a carpenter. God has called him to that work. It is his +duty to build houses, and to build them well. That is, he is required +to be a good carpenter, to do the very best work he can possibly do. +If, therefore, he does careless work, imperfect, dishonest, slurred, +slighted work, he is robbing God, leaving only bad carpentering where +he ought to have left good. For even God himself will not build the +carpenter's houses without the carpenter. Or, here is a mother in a +home. Her children are about her, with their needs. Her home requires +her skill, her taste, her refinement, her toil and care. It is her +calling to be a good mother, and to make a true home for her household. +Her duty is to do always her very best to make her home beautiful, +bright, happy, a fit place for her children to grow up in. +Faithfulness requires that she do always such service as a mother, that +Jesus shall say of her home-making, "She hath done what she could." To +do less than her best is to fail in fidelity. Suppose that her hand +should slack, that she should grow negligent, would she not clearly be +robbing God? For even God cannot make a beautiful home for her +children without her. + +So we may apply the principle to all kinds of work. The faithfulness +which God requires must reach to everything we do, to the way the child +gets its lessons and recites them, to the way the dressmaker and the +tailor sew their seams, to the way the blacksmith welds the iron, and +shoes the horse, to the way the plumber puts the pipes into the new +building and looks after the drainage, to the way the carpenter does +his work on the house, to the way the bridge-builder swings the bridge +over the stream, to the way the clerk represents the goods, and +measures or weighs them. "Be thou faithful" is the word that rings +from heaven in every ear. God's word for the doing of every piece of +work that any one does. How soon it would put a stop to all +dishonesty, all fraud, all scant work, all false weights and measures, +all shams, all neglects or slightings of duty, were this lesson only +learned and practiced everywhere! + +"It does not matter," people say, "whether I do my little work well or +not. Of course I must not steal, nor lie, nor commit forgery, nor +break the Sabbath. These are moral things. But there is no sin in my +sewing up this seam carelessly, or in my using bad mortar in this wall, +or in my putting inferior timber in this house, or a piece of flawed +iron in this bridge." But we need to learn that the moral law applies +everywhere, just as really to carpentry, or blacksmithing, or +tailoring, as to Sabbath-keeping. We never can get away from this law. + +Besides, it does matter, for our neighbor's sake, as well as for the +honor of God's law, how we do our work. The bricklayer does negligent +work on the walls of the flue he is putting in, and one night, years +afterward, a spark creeps through the crevice and reaches a wooden beam +that lies there, and soon the house is in flames and perhaps precious +lives perish. The bricklayer was unfaithful. The foundryworker, in +casting the great iron supports for a bridge, is unwatchful for an +instant, and a bubble of air makes a flaw. It is buried away in the +heart of the beam and escapes detection. One day, years later, there +is a terrible disaster. A great railroad bridge gives way beneath the +weight of an express train and hundreds of lives are lost. In the +inquest it is testified that a slight flaw in one beam was the cause of +the awful calamity which hurled so many lives into eternity. The +foundry workman was unfaithful. + +These are but suggestions of the duty and of its importance. No work +can be of so little moment that it matters not whether it be done +faithfully or not. Unfaithfulness in the smallest things is +unfaithfulness, and God is grieved, and possibly sometime, somewhere, +disaster may come as the consequence of the neglect. On the other +hand, faithfulness is pleasing to God, though it be only in the +sweeping well of a room, or the doing neatly of the smallest things in +household care. Then faithfulness is far-reaching in its influence. +The universe is not quite complete without each one's little work well +done. + +The self-culture that there is in the mere habit of faithfulness is in +itself a rich reward for all our striving. It is a great thing to +train ourselves to do always our best, to do as nearly perfect work as +possible. Said Michael Angelo: "Nothing makes the soul so pure, so +religious, as the endeavor to create something perfect; for God is +perfection, and whoever strives for it, strives for something that is +Godlike." The habit, unyieldingly persisted in, of doing everything +with the most scrupulous conscientiousness, builds up in the one who so +lives a noble and beautiful character. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +WITHOUT AXE OR HAMMER. + + + "Souls are built as temples are,-- + Based on truth's eternal law, + Sure and steadfast, without flaw, + Through the sunshine, through the snows, + Up and on the building goes; + Every fair thing finds its place, + Every hard thing lends a grace, + Every hand may make or mar." + + +We read of the temple of Solomon, when it was in building, that it was +built of stone made ready in the quarry, so that neither hammer nor axe +nor any tool of iron was heard in the house while it went up. + + "No workman's steel, no ponderous axes rung; + Like some tall palm, the noiseless fabric sprung." + + +So it is that the great work of spiritual temple-building goes on +continually in this world. We are all really silent builders. The +kingdom of God cometh not with observation. The divine Spirit works in +silence, changing men's hearts, transforming lives, comforting sorrow, +kindling hope in darkened bosoms, washing scarlet souls white as snow. +The preacher may speak with the voice of a Boanerges, but the power +that reaches hearts is not the preacher's noise; silently the divine +voice whispers in the soul its secret of conviction, or of hope, or of +strength. The Lord is not in the storm, in the earthquake, in the +fire, but in the sound of gentleness, the spirit's whisper, that +breathes through the soul. + +Perhaps the best work any of us do in this world is that which we do +without noise. Words give forth sound, but it is not the sounds that +do good, that brighten sad faces as people listen, that change tears to +laughter, that stimulate hope, that put courage into fainting +hearts,--it is not the noise of our words, but the thoughts which the +words carry. Words are but the chattering messengers that bear the +sealed messages; and it is the messages that help and comfort. We may +make noise as we work, but it is not our noise that builds up what we +leave in beauty behind us. It is life that builds, and life is silent. +The force that works in our homes is a silent force,--mother-love, +father-love, patience, gentleness, prayer, truth, the influences of +divine grace. + +It is the same in the building up of personal character in each of us. +There may be a great deal of noise all about us, but it is in silence +that we grow from a thousand sources come the little blocks that are +laid upon the walls,--the lessons we get from others, the influences +friends exert upon us, the truths our reading puts into our minds, the +impressions life leaves upon us, the inspirations we receive from the +divine Spirit--ever the builders are at work on these characters of +ours, but they work silently, without noise of hammer or axe. + +There is another suggestion. Down in the dark quarries, under the +city, the men wrought, cutting, hewing, polishing, the stones. They +hung their little lamps on the walls, and with their hammers and +chisels they hewed away at the great blocks. Months and years passed; +then one day there was a grand dedication, and there in the glorious +sunshine all the secret, obscure work of those years was seen in its +final beauty, amid the joy of a nation. If the men who had wrought in +the quarries were present that day, what a joy it must have been to +them to think of their work in preparing the great stones for their +place in the magnificent building! + +Here is a parable. This world is the quarry. We are toiling away in +the darkness. We cannot see what good is ever to come out of our +lonely, painful, obscure toil. Yet some day our quarry-work will be +manifested in the glory of heaven. We are preparing materials now and +here for the temple of the great King, which in heaven is slowly rising +through the ages. No noise of hammer or axe is heard in all that +wondrous building, because the stones are all shaped and polished and +made entirely ready in this world. + +We are the stones, and the world is God's quarry. The stones for the +temple were cut out of the great rock in the dark underground cavern. +They were rough and shapeless. Then they were dressed into form, and +this required a great deal of cutting, hammering, and chiselling. +Without this stern, sore work on the stones, not one of them could ever +have filled a place in the temple. At last when they were ready they +were lifted out of the dark quarry and carried up to the mountain-top, +where the temple was rising, and were laid in their place. + +We are stones in the quarry as yet. When we accepted Christ we were +cut from the great mass of rock. But we were yet rough and unshapely; +not fit for heaven. Before we can be ready for our place in the +heavenly temple we must be hewn and shaped. The hammer must do its +work, breaking off the roughnesses. The chisel must be used, carving +and polishing our lives into beauty. This work is done in the many +processes of life. Every sinful thing, every fault in our character, +is a rough place in the stone, which must be chiselled off. All the +crooked lines must be straightened. Our lives must be cut and hewn +until they conform to the perfect standard of divine truth. + +Quarry-work is not always pleasant. If stones had hearts and +sensibilities, they would sometimes cry out in sore pain as they feel +the hammer strokes and the deep cutting of the chisel. Yet the workman +must not heed their cries and withdraw his hand, else they would at +last be thrown aside as worthless blocks, never to be built into the +place of honor. + +We are not stones; we have hearts and sensibilities, and we do cry out +ofttimes as the hammer smites away the roughnesses in our character. +But we must yield to the sore work and let it go on, or we shall never +have our place as living stones in Christ's beautiful temple. We must +not wince under the sharp chiselling of sorrow. Says Dr. T. T. +Munger:-- + + "When God afflicts thee, think he hews a rugged stone + Which must be shaped, or else aside as useless thrown." + + +There is still another suggestion from this singular temple-building. +Every individual life has its quarries where are shaped the blocks +which afterward are built into character, or which take form in acts. +Schools are the quarries, where, through years of patient study, the +materials for life are prepared, the mind is disciplined, habits are +formed, knowledge is gained, and power is stored. Later, in active +life, the temple rises without noise of hammer or axe. Homes are +quarries where children are trained, where moral truth is lodged in the +heart, where the elements of character are hewn out like fair stones, +to appear in the life in after days, when it grows up among men. + +Then there are the thought-quarries back of what people see in every +human life. Men must be silent thinkers before their words or deeds +can have either great beauty or power. Extemporaneousness anywhere is +of small value. Glib, easy talkers, who are always ready to speak on +any subject, who require no time for preparation, may go on chattering, +forever, but their talk is only chatter. The words that are worth +hearing come out of thought-quarries where they have been wrought +ofttimes in struggle and anguish. Father Ryan, in one of the most +exquisite of his poems, writes of the "valley of silence" where he +prepares the songs he afterwards sings:-- + + "In the hush of the valley of silence + I dream all the songs that I sing; + And the music floats down the dim valley + 'Till each finds a word for awing, + That to hearts, like the dove of the deluge, + A message of peace they may bring." + + +So it is of all great thoughts. Thinkers brood long in the silence and +then come forth and their eloquence sways us. So it is with art. We +look at a fine picture and our hearts are warmed by its wondrous +beauty. But do we know the story of the picture? Years and years of +thought and of tireless toil lie back of its enrapturing beauty. Or +here is a book which charms you, which thrills and inspires you. Great +thoughts lie on its pages. Do you know the book's story? The author +lived, struggled, toiled, suffered, wept, that he might write the words +which now help you. Back of every good life-thought which blesses men, +lies a dark quarry where the thought was born and shaped into the +beauty of form which makes it a blessing to the world. + +Or here is a noble and beautiful character. Goodness appears natural +to it. It seems easy for the man to be noble and to do noble things. +But again the quarry is back of the temple. Each one's heart is the +quarry out of which comes all that the person builds into his life. +"As he thinketh in his heart so is he." Everything that appears in our +lives comes out of our hearts. All our acts are first thoughts. The +artist's picture, the poet's poem, the singer's song, the architect's +building, are thoughts before they are wrought out into forms of +beauty. All dispositions, tempers, feelings, words, and acts start in +the heart. If the workmen had quarried faulty stones in the caverns, +the temple would have been spoiled. An evil heart, with stained +thoughts, impure imaginings, blurred feelings, can never build up a +fair and lovely character. + +We need to guard our heart-quarry with all diligence, since out of it +are the issues of life. The thoughts build the life and make the +character. White thoughts rear up a beautiful fabric before God and +man. Soiled thoughts pile up a stained life, without beauty or honor. +We should look well, therefore, to our heart-quarry, where the work +goes on in the darkness without ceasing. If all be right there we need +give little concern to the building of character. Diligent +heart-keeping yields a life unspotted from the world. + +A little child had been reading the beatitudes, and was asked which of +the qualities named in them she most desired. "I would rather be pure +in heart," she said. When asked the reason for her choice, she +answered: "If I could but have a pure heart, I should then possess all +the other qualities of the beatitudes in the one." The child was +right. A pure heart will build a beautiful life, a fit temple for +Christ. Thinking over God's holy thoughts after him will make us like +God. Thinking habitually about Christ, Christ's beauty will come into +our souls and shine in our faces. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +DOING THINGS FOB CHRIST. + + + "We can best minister to him by helping them + Who dare not touch his hallowed garment's hem; + Their lives are even as ours--one piece, one plan. + Him know we not, him shall we never know, + Till we behold him in the least of these + Who suffer or who sin. In sick souls he + Lies bound and sighing, asks our sympathies; + Their grateful eyes thy benison bestow, + Brother and Lord,--'Ye did it unto me.'" + --LUCY LARCOM. + + +If Christ were here, we say, we would do many things for him. The +women who love him would gladly minister to him as did the women who +followed him from Galilee. The men who are his friends would work to +help him in any ways he might direct. The children who are trying to +please him would run errands for him. We all say we would be delighted +to serve him if only he would come again to our world and visit our +homes. But we can do things for him just as really as if he were here +again in human form. + +One way of doing this is by obeying him. He is our Lord. Nothing +pleases him so well as our obedience. It is told of a great +philosopher that a friend called one day to see him, and was +entertained by the philosopher's little daughter till her father came +in. The friend supposed that the child of so wise a man would be +learning something very deep. So he asked her, "What is your father +teaching you?" The little maid looked up into his face with her clear +eyes and said, "Obedience." That is the one great lesson our Lord is +teaching us. He wants us to learn obedience. If we obey him always we +shall always be doing things for him. + +We do things for Christ which we do through love to him. Even +obedience without love does not please him. But the smallest services +we can render, if love inspire them, he accepts. Thus we can make the +commonest tasks of our lives holy ministries, as sacred as what the +angels do. There is a legend of a monk who painted in an old +convent-cell pictures of martyrs and holy saints and of the sweet +Christ-face with the crown of thorns. Men called his pictures only +daubs. + + "One night the poor monk mused, 'Could I but render + Honor to Christ as other painters do-- + Were but my skill as great as is the tender + Love that inspires me when his cross I view.' + + "'But no, 'tis vain I toil and strive in sorrow; + What man so scorns still less can _He_ admire; + My life's work is all valueless; to-morrow + I'll cast my ill-wrought pictures in the fire.' + + "He raised his eyes within his cell--O wonder! + There stood a Visitor; thorn-crowned was He; + And a sweet voice the silence rent asunder: + 'I scorn no work that's done for love of me.' + + "And round the walls the paintings shone resplendent + With lights and colors to this world unknown, + A perfect beauty and a hue transcendent, + That never yet on mortal canvas shone." + + +There is a beautiful meaning in the old legend. Christ scorns no work +that is done for love of him. Most of us have much drudgery in our +lives, but even this we can make glorious by doing it through love for +Christ. + +Things we do for others in Christ's name, are done for him. We all +remember that wonderful "inasmuch" in the twenty-fifth of Matthew. If +we find the sick one, or the poor one, and go and minister, as we may +be able, as unto the Lord, the deed is accepted as if done to him in +person. Mrs. Margaret J. Preston, in one of her beautiful poems, tells +of a weary sister who grieved sorely because, as it seemed to her, she +had not been able to do any work for Christ. By a mother's dying bed +she had promised to care for her little sister, and her work for the +child so filled her hands that she had not time for anything else. As +she grieved thus once, the little sister sleeping beside her stirred +and told her of a sweet, strange dream she had had. She thought her +sister was sitting sad because the King had bidden each one to bring +him a gift. + + "And in my dream I saw you there, + And heard you say, 'No hands can bear + A gift, that are so filled with care.' + + "What care?' the King said, and he smiled + To hear you answer, wailing wild, + 'I only toil to feed a child.' + + "And then with such a look divine + ('Twas that awaked me with its shine), + He whispered, 'But the child is mine.'" + + +There are many for whom this little story-poem should have sweet +comfort. There are fathers and mothers who find it hard to provide for +their children. It takes all their time and strength, and sometimes +they say, "I cannot do any work for Christ, because it takes every +moment to earn bread and clothing for my little ones, and to care for +them." But Jesus whispers, "Yes; yet your children are mine, and what +you do for them you do for me." + +There is in a home an invalid who requires all the time and thought of +another member of the household in loving attention. It may be an aged +parent needing the help of a child; it may be a child, crippled, blind, +or sick, needing all a parent's care; or it may be a brother broken in +health on whom a sister is called to wait continually with patient +love. And sometimes those who are required thus to spend their days +and nights in ministry for others feel that their lives count for +nothing in work for Christ. They hear the appeals for laborers and for +service, but cannot respond. Their hands are already filled. Yet +Jesus whispers, "These for whom you are toiling, caring, and spending +time and strength are mine, and in doing for them you are doing for me +just as acceptable work as are those who are toiling without +distraction or hindrance in the great open field." + +Sometimes the work we do for Christ with purest love fails, or seems to +fail of result. Nothing appears to come of it. There are whole +lifetimes of godly people that seem to yield nothing. A word ought to +be said about this kind of doing for Christ. We are to set it down as +true without exception, that no work wrought in Christ's name and with +love for him is ever lost. What we, in our limited, short-sighted +vision, planned to do may not be accomplished, but God's purpose goes +on in every consecrated life, in every true deed done. The disciples +thought that Mary's costly ointment was wasted. So it seemed; but this +world has been a little sweeter ever since the breaking of the vase +that let the perfume escape into its common air. So it is with many +things that are done, and many lives that are lived. They seem to +fail, and there is nothing on the earth to show where they have been. +Yet somehow the stock of human happiness is larger and the world is a +little better. + +Our work for Christ that fails in what we intended may yet leave a +blessing in some other way. A faithful Bible-class teacher through +many months visited a young man, a member of her class, in sickness. +She read the Bible to him and sang sweet hymns and prayed by his +bedside. He was not a Christian and she hoped that he would be led to +Christ. But at length he recovered and went out again, unchanged, or +even more indifferent than ever to his spiritual interests. All the +faithful teacher's work seemed to have been in vain. Then she learned +that a frail, invalid girl, living in an adjoining house, had been +brought to Christ through the loving work done for the careless +scholar. The songs sung by the sick man's bedside, and which seemed to +have left no blessing in his heart, had been heard through the thin +wall of the house in the girl's sick-room, and had told her of the love +of the Saviour. + +The records of Christian ministry are full of such good work done +unintentionally. Failing to leave a blessing where it was hoped a +blessing would be received, it blessed some other life. We may not say +that any good work has failed until we know in the last great harvest +all the results of the things we have done and the words we have spoken. + + "Not all who seem to fail have failed indeed; + Not all who fail have therefore worked in vain; + For all our acts to many issues lead; + And out of earnest purpose, pure and plain, + Enforced by honest toil of hand or brain, + The Lord will fashion in his own good time + (Be this the laborer's proudly humble creed), + Such ends as in his wisdom, fitliest chime + With his vast love's eternal harmonies. + There is no failure for the good and wise; + What though thy seed should fall by the wayside, + And the birds snatch it?--Yet the birds are fed; + Or they may bear it far across the tide, + To give rich harvests after thou art dead." + + +Many people die, and see yet no harvest from their life's sowing. They +come to the end of their years, and their hands are empty. But when +they enter heaven they will find that they have really been building +there all the while, that the things that have seemed to leave no +result on the earth have left glorious results inside the gates of +pearl. + + "There is no end to the sky, + And the stars are everywhere, + And time is eternity, + And the here is over there; + For the common deeds of the common day + Are ringing bells in the far away." + + +Then even if the work we do does not itself leave any record, the doing +of it leaves a record--an impression--on our own life. There is a word +of Scripture which says, "He that doeth the will of God abideth +forever." Doing God's will builds up enduring character in us. Every +obedience adds a new touch of beauty to the soul. Every true thing we +do in Christ's name, though it leave no mark anywhere else in God's +universe, leaves an imperishable mark on our own life. Every deed of +unselfish kindness that we perform with love for Christ in our heart, +though it bless no other soul in all the world, leaves its sure +benediction on ourselves. + +Thousands of years since a leaf fell on the soft clay and seemed to be +lost. But last summer a geologist in his ramblings broke off a piece +of rock with his hammer, and there lay the image of the leaf, with +every line, and every vein, and all the delicate tracery, preserved in +the stone through these centuries. So the words we speak, and the +things we do for Christ to-day, may seem to be lost, but in the great +final revealing the smallest of them will appear, to the glory of +Christ and the reward of the doer. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +HELPING AND OVER-HELPING. + + + "As we meet and touch each day + The many travellers on our way, + Let every such brief contact be + A glorious, helpful ministry; + The contact of the soil and seed, + Each giving to the other's need, + Each helping on the other's best, + And blessing each as well as blest." + + +Even kindness may be overdone. One may be too gentle. Love may hold +others back from duty, and thus may wreck destinies. We need to guard +against meddling with God's discipline, softening the experience that +he means to be hard, sheltering our friend from the wind that he +intends to blow chillingly. All summer does not make a good zone to +live in; we need autumn and winter to temper the heat, and keep +vegetation from luxuriant overgrowth. The best thing we can do for +others is not always to take their load or do their duty for them. + +Of course we are to be helpful to others. No aim should be put higher +in our life-plans than that of personal helpfulness. The motto of the +true Christian cannot be other than that of the Master: "Not to be +ministered unto, but to minister." Even in the ambition to gather and +retain wealth, the spirit of the desire must be, if we are Christians +at all, that thereby we may become more helpful to others; that +through, or by means of, our wealth, we may be enabled to do larger and +greater good. Whatever gift, power, or possession we have that we do +not seek to use in this way is not yet truly devoted to God. Fruit is +the test of character, and the purpose of fruit is not to adorn the +tree or vine, but to feed hunger. Whatever we are, whatever we have, +is fruit, and must be held for the feeding of the hunger of others. +Thus personal helpfulness is the aim of all truly consecrated life. In +so far as we are living for ourselves, we are not Christians. + +Then there are many ways of helping others. Some people help us in +material ways. It is a still higher kind of help which we get from +those who minister to our mental needs, who write the books which +charm, instruct, and entertain us. Mind is greater than body. Bread, +and clothing, and furniture, and houses will not satisfy our +intellectual cravings. There are those, however, who do help us in +these loftier ranges. Music, poetry, and art minister both to our +gratification and our culture. Good books bring to us inestimable +benefits. They tell us of new worlds, and inspire us to conquer them. +They show us lofty and noble ideals, and stimulate us to attain them. +They make us larger, better, stronger. The help we get from books is +incalculable. + +Yet the truest and best help any one can give to others is not in +material things, but in ways that make them stronger and better. Money +is good alms when money is really needed, but in comparison with the +divine gifts of hope, friendship, courage, sympathy, and love, it is +paltry and poor. Usually the help people need is not so much the +lightening of their burden, as fresh strength to enable them to bear +their burden, and stand up under it. The best thing we can do for +another, some one has said, is not to make some things easy for him, +but to make something of him. + +It is just here that friendship makes most of its mistakes. It +over-helps. It helps by ministering relief, by lifting away loads, by +gathering hindrances out of the way, when it would help much more +wisely by seeking to impart hope, strength, energy. "Our friends," +says Emerson, "are those who make us do what we can." Says another +writer: "Our real friend is not the man or woman who smooths over our +difficulties, throws a cloak over our failings, stands between us and +the penalties which our mistakes have brought upon us, but the man or +woman who makes us understand ourselves, and helps us to better +things." Love is weak, and too often pampers and flatters. It thinks +that loyalty requires it to make life easy as possible for the beloved +one. + +Too often our friendship is most short-sighted in this regard, and most +hurtful to those we fervently desire to aid. We should never indulge +or encourage weakness in others when we can in any way stimulate it +into strength. We should never do anything for another which we can +inspire him to do for himself. Much parental affection errs at this +point. Life is made too easy for children. They are sheltered when it +were better if they faced the storm. They are saved from toil and +exertion, when toil and exertion are God's ordained means of grace for +them, of which the parents rob them in their over-tenderness. There +are children who are wronged by the cruelty and inhumanity of parents, +and whose cries to heaven make the throne of the Eternal rock and sway; +but there are children, also, who are wronged of much that is noblest +and best in their inheritance by the over-kindness of parents. + +In every warm friendship, too, there is strong temptation to make the +same mistake. We have to be ever on our guard against over-helping. +Our aim should always be to inspire in our friend new energy, to +develop in him the noblest strength, to bring out his best manhood. +Over-helping defeats these offices of friendship. + +There is one particular point at which a special word of caution may +well be spoken. We need to guard our sympathies when we would comfort +and help those who are suffering or are in trouble of any kind. It may +seem a severe thing to say, but illness is ofttimes made worse by the +pity of friends. There is in weak natures a tendency to indulge +sickness, to exaggerate its symptoms, to imagine that it is more +serious than it really is, and easily to succumb to its influence. You +find your friend indisposed, and you are profuse in your expressions of +sympathy, encouraging or suggesting fears, urging prompt medical help. +You think you have shown kindness, but very likely you have done sore +injury. You have left a depressing influence behind you. Your friend +is disheartened and alarmed. You have left him weaker, not stronger. + +It may seem hard-hearted to appear to be unsympathetic with invalids, +and those who are slightly or even seriously sick; not to take interest +in their complaints; not to say commiserating things to them; but +really it is the part of true friendship to help sick people fight the +battle with their ills. We ought, therefore, to guard against speaking +any word which will discourage them, increase their fear, exaggerate +their thought of their illness, or weaken them in their struggle. On +the other hand, we ought to say words which will cheer and strengthen +them, and make them braver for the fight. Our duty is to help them to +get well. + +Perhaps the very medicine they need is a glimpse of cheerful outlook. +Sick people ofttimes fall into a mood of disheartenment and self-pity +which seriously retards their recovery. To sit down beside them then, +and fall into their gloomy spirit, listening sympathetically to their +discouraged words, is to do them sore unkindness. The true office of +friendship in such cases is to drive away the discouragement, and put +hope and courage into the sore heart. We must try to make our sick +friend braver to endure his sufferings. + +Then, even in the sacredness of sorrow, we should never forget that our +mission to others is not merely to weep with them, but to help them to +be victorious, to receive their sorrow as a messenger from God, and to +bear themselves as God's children under it. Instead, therefore, of +mere emotional condolence with our friends in their times of grief, we +should seek to present to them the strong comforts of divine love, and +to inspire them to the bearing of their sorrow in faith and hope and +joy. + +So all personal helpfulness should be wise and thoughtful. It should +never tend to pamper weakness, to encourage dependence, to make people +timid, to debilitate manliness and womanliness, to make parasites of +those who turn to us with their burdens and needs. We must take care +that our helping does not dwarf any life which we ought rather to +stimulate to noble and beautiful growth. God never makes such mistakes +as this. He never fails us in need, but he loves us too well and is +too wise to relieve us of weights which we need to make our growth +healthful and vigorous. We should learn from God, and should help as +he helps, without over-helping. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE ONLY ONE. + + + "Before the monstrous wrong he sets him down-- + One man against a stone walled city of sin. + * * * * * * + When the red dust has cleared, the lonely soldier + Stands with strange thoughts beneath the friendly stars." + --E. R. SILL. + + +There are a great many people in this world--hundreds of millions, +tables of population foot up. Yet in a sense each one of us is the +only one. Each individual life has relations of its own in which it +must stand alone, and into which no other life can come. +Companionships may be close, and they may give much comfort and +inspiration, but in all the inner meaning of life each individual lives +apart and alone. No one can live your life for you. No one but +yourself can answer your questions, meet your responsibilities, make +your decisions and choices. Your relations with God no one but +yourself can fulfil. No one can believe for you. A thousand friends +may encircle you and pray for your soul, but until you lift up your own +heart in prayer no communication is established between you and God. +No one can get your sins forgiven but yourself. No one can obey God +for you. No other one can do your work for Christ, or render your +account at the judgment-seat. + +In the realm of experience also the same is true. Each person suffers +alone, as if there were no other being in the universe. Friends may +stand by us in our hours of pain or sorrow, and may sympathize with us +or administer comfort or alleviation, but they enter not really into +the experiences. In these we are alone. No one can meet your +temptations for you, or fight your battles, or endure your trials. The +tenderest friendship, the holiest love, cannot enter into the +solitariness in which each one of us lives apart. + + "Still in each heart of hearts a hidden deep + Lies, never fathomed by its dearest, best." + + +This aloneness of life sometimes becomes very real in consciousness. +All great souls experience it as they rise out of and above the common +mass of men in their thoughts and hopes and aspirations, as the +mountains rise from the level of the vale and little hills. All great +leaders of men ofttimes must stand alone, as they move in advance of +the ranks of their followers. The battles of truth and of progress +have usually been fought by lonely souls. Elijah, for example, in a +season of disheartenment and despondency, gave it as part of the +exceptional burden of his life that he was the only one in the field +for God. It is so in all great epochs; God calls one man to stand for +him. As Robert Browning says:-- + + "In life exceptional, + When old things terminate and new commence, + A solitary great man's worth the world. + God takes the business in his own hand + At such time." + + +But the experience is not that only of great souls; there come times in +the lives of all who are living faithfully and worthily when they must +stand alone for God, without companionship, perhaps without sympathy or +encouragement. Here is a young person, the only one of his family who +has confessed Christ. He takes him as his Saviour, and then stands up +before the world and vows to be his and follow him. He goes back to +his home. The members of the home circle are very dear to him; but +none of them are Christians, and he must stand alone for Christ among +them. Perhaps they oppose him in his discipleship--in varying degrees +this ofttimes is the experience. Perhaps they are only indifferent, +making no opposition, only quietly watching his life to see if it is +consistent. In any case, however, he must stand for Christ alone, +without the help that comes from companionship. + +Or it may be in the workshop or in the school that the young Christian +must stand alone. He returns from the Lord's Table to his week-day +duties, full of noble impulses, but finds himself the only Christian in +the place where his duty leads him. His companions are ready to sneer, +and they point the finger of scorn at him, with irritating epithets. +Or they even persecute him in petty ways. At least they are not +Christ's friends, and he, as follower of the Master, finds no sympathy +among them in his new life. He must stand alone in his discipleship, +conscious all the while that unfriendly eyes are upon him. Many a +young or older Christian finds it very hard to be the only one to stand +for Christ in the circle in which his daily work fixes his place. + +This aloneness puts upon one a great responsibility. For example, you +are the only Christian in your home. You are the only witness Christ +has in your house, the only one through whom to reveal his love, his +grace, his holiness. You are the only one to represent Christ in your +family, to show there the beauty of Christ, the sweetness and +gentleness of Christ, to do there the works of Christ, the things he +would do if he lived in your home. Perhaps the salvation of all the +souls of your family depends upon your being true and faithful in your +own place. If you falter in your loyalty, if you fail in your duty, +your loved ones may be lost and the blame will be yours; their blood +will be upon you. + +In like manner, if you are the only Christian in the shop, the store, +or the office where you work, a peculiar responsibility rests upon you, +a responsibility which no other one shares with you. You are Christ's +only witness in your place. If you do not testify there for him, there +is no other one who will do it. Miss Havergal tells of her experience +in the girls' school at Dusseldorf. She went there soon after she had +become a Christian and had confessed Christ. Her heart was very warm +with love for her Saviour and she was eager to speak for him. To her +amazement, however, she soon learned that among the hundred girls in +the school, she was the only Christian. Her first thought was one of +dismay--she could not confess Christ in that great company of worldly, +un-Christian companions. Her gentle, sensitive heart shrank from a +duty so hard. Her second thought, however, was that she could not +refrain from confessing Christ. She was the only one Christ had there +and she must be faithful. "This was very bracing," she writes. "I +felt I must try to walk worthy of my calling for Christ's sake. It +brought a new and strong desire to bear witness for my Master. It made +me more watchful and earnest than ever before, for I knew that any slip +in word or deed would bring discredit on my Master." She realized that +she had a mission in that school, that she was Christ's witness there, +his only witness, and that she dare not fail. + +This same sense of responsibility rests upon every thoughtful Christian +who is called to be Christ's only witness in a place--in a home, in a +community, in a store, or school, or shop, or social circle. He is +Christ's only servant there, and he dare not be unfaithful, else the +whole work of Christ in that place may fail. He is the one light set +to shine there for his Master, and if his light be hidden, the darkness +will be unrelieved. So there is special inspiration in this +consciousness of being the only one Christ has in a certain place. + +There is a sense in which this is true also of every one of us all the +time. We really are always the only one Christ has at the particular +place at which we stand. There may be thousands of other lives about +us. We may be only one of a great company, of a large congregation, of +a populous community. Yet each one of us has a life that is alone in +its responsibility, in its danger, in its mission and duty. There may +be a hundred others close beside me, but not one of them can take my +place, or do my duty, or fulfil my mission, or bear my responsibility. +Though every one of the other hundred do his work, and do it perfectly, +my work waits for me, and if I do not do it, it never will be done. + +We can understand how that if the great prophet had failed God that day +when he was the only one God had to stand for him, the consequences +would have been most disastrous; the cause of God would have suffered +irreparably. But are we sure that the calamity to Christ's kingdom +would be any less if one of us should fail God in our lowly place any +common day? + +Stories are told of a child finding a little leak in the dike that +shuts off the sea from Holland, and stopping it with his hand till help +could come, staying there all the night, holding back the floods with +his little hand. It was but a tiny, trickling stream that he held +back; yet if he had not done it, it would soon have become a torrent, +and before morning the sea would have swept over the land, submerging +fields, homes, and cities. Between the sea and all this devastation +there was but a boy's hand. Had the child failed, the floods would +have rolled in with their remorseless ruin. We understand how +important it was that that boy should be faithful to his duty, since he +was the only one God had that night to save Holland. + +But do you know that your life may not stand any day, and be all that +stands, between some great flood of moral ruin and broad, fair fields +of beauty? Do you know that your failure in your lowly place and duty +may not let in a sea of disaster which shall sweep away human hopes and +joys and human souls? The humblest of us dare not fail, for our one +life is all God has at the point where we stand. + +This truth of personal responsibility is one of tremendous moment. We +do not escape it by being in a crowd, one of a family, one of a +community. No one but ourself can live our life, do our work, meet our +obligation, bear our burden. No one but ourself can stand for us +before God to render an account of our deeds. In the deepest, realest +sense each one of us lives alone. + +There is another phase of this subject, however, which should not be +overlooked. While we must stand alone in our place and be faithful to +our trust, our responsibility reaches only to our own duty. Others +beside us have their part also to do, and the perfection of the whole +work depends upon their faithfulness as well as upon ours. The best +any of us can do in this world is but a fragment. The old prophet +thought his work had failed because Baalism was not yet entirely +destroyed. Then he was told of three other men, who would come after +him--two kings and then another prophet, who each in turn would do his +part, when at last the destruction of the great alien idolatry would be +complete. Elijah's faithfulness had not failed, but his achievement +was only a fragment of the whole work. + +This is very suggestive and very comforting. We are not responsible +for finishing everything we begin. It may be our part only to begin +it; the carrying on and finishing of it may be the work of others whom +we do not know, of others perhaps not yet born. We all enter into the +work of those who have gone before us, and others who come after us +shall in turn enter into our work. Our duty simply is to do well and +faithfully our own little part. If we do this we need never fret +ourselves about the part we cannot do. That is not our work at all, +but belongs to some other worker, waiting now, perchance, in some +obscure place, who at the right time will come forward with new heart +and skilful hand, anointed by God for his task. + +Mr. Sill illustrates this truth in one of his poems, where, speaking of +the young, "led on by courage and immortal hope, and with the morning +in their hearts," he says:-- + + "They to the disappointed earth shall give + The lives we meant to live, + Beautiful, free, and strong; + The light we almost had + Shall make them glad; + The words we waited long + Shall run in music from their voice and song." + + +Mr. Whittier also suggests the same truth:-- + + "Others shall sing the song, + Others shall right the wrong, + Finish what I begin, + And all I fail of win. + + "What matter I or they, + Mine or another's day, + So the right word be said + And life the sweeter made?" + + +So while we are alone in our responsibility we need give no thought for +anything but our own duty, our own little fragment of the Lord's work. +The things we cannot do some other one is waiting and preparing now to +do after the work has passed from our hand. There is comfort in this +for any who fail in their efforts, and must leave tasks unfinished +which they hoped to complete. The finishing is another's mission. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +SWIFTNESS IN DUTY. + + + "Life is a leaf of paper white, + Whereon each one of us may write + His word or two--and then comes night." + --LOWELL. + + +Many good people are very slow. They do their work well enough, +perhaps, but so leisurely that they accomplish in their brief time only +a fraction of what they might accomplish. They lose, in aimless +loitering, whole golden hours which they ought to fill with quick +activities. They seem to have no true appreciation of the value of +time, or of their own accountability for its precious moments. They +live conscientiously, it may be, but they have no strong constraining +sense of duty impelling them to ever larger and fuller achievement. +They have a work to do, but there is no hurry for it; there is plenty +of time in which to do it. + +It is quite safe to say that the majority of people do not get into +their life half the achievement that was possible to them when they +began to live, simply because they have never learned to work swiftly, +and under pressure of great motives. + +There can be no doubt that we are required to make the most possible of +our life. Mr. Longfellow once gave to his pupils, as a motto, this: +"Live up to the best that is in you." To do this, we must not only +develop our talents to the utmost power and capacity of which they are +susceptible, but we must also use these talents to the accomplishment +of the largest and best results they are capable of producing. In +order to reach this standard, we must never lose a day, nor even an +hour, and we must put into every day and every hour all that is +possible of activity and usefulness. + +Dreaming through days and years, however brilliantly one may dream, can +never satisfy the demands of the responsibility which inheres +essentially in every soul that is born into the world. Life means +duty, toil, work. There is something divinely allotted to each hour, +and the hour one loiters remains forever an unfilled blank. We can +ideally fulfil our mission only by living up always to the best that is +in us, and by doing every day the very most that we can do. + + "So here hath been dawning another blue day; + Think, wilt thou let it slip useless away? + Out of eternity this new day is born; + Into eternity at night will return." + + +We turn over to our Lord for example, since his was the one life in all +the ages that reached the divine thought, and filled out the divine +pattern; and wherever we see him, we find him intent on doing the will +of his Father, not losing a moment, nor loitering at any task. We see +him ever hastening from place to place, from ministry to ministry, from +baptism to temptation, from teaching to healing, from miracle-working +to solitary prayer. His feet never loitered. He lost no moments; he +seems indeed to have crowded the common work of years into a few short, +intense hours. He is painted for us as a man continually under the +strongest pressure, with a work to do which he was eager to accomplish +in the shortest possible time. He was always calm, never in nervous +haste, yet ever quietly moving with resistless energy on his holy +errand. + +We ought to catch our Master's spirit in this celerity in the Father's +business. Time is short and duty is large. There is not a moment to +lose, if, in our allotted period, we would finish the work that is +given us to do. We need to get our Lord's "straightway" into our life, +so that we shall hasten from duty to duty, without pause or idle +lingering. We need to get into our heart a consciousness of being ever +on the Master's errands, that shall be within us a mighty compulsion, +driving us always to duty. + +Naturally we are indolent, and fond of ease and self indulgence. We +need to be carried out of and beyond ourselves. There is no motive +strong enough to do this but love to God and to our fellow-men. +Supreme love to God makes us desire to do with alacrity everything he +commands. Love to our fellow-men draws us to all service of sympathy +and beneficence for them, regardless of cost. Constrained by such +motives, we shall never become laggards in duty. + +Swiftness or slowness in duty is very much a matter of habit. As one +is trained in early life, one is quite sure to continue in mature +years. A loitering child will become a loitering man or woman. The +habit grows, as all habits do. + + "Lose this day loitering, 'twill be the same story + To-morrow, and the next more dilatory; + The indecision brings its own delays, + And days are lost, lamenting o'er lost days. + + "Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute. + What you can do, and think you can, begin it. + Boldness has genius, power, magic in it. + Only engage, and then the mind grows heated; + Begin it, and the work will be completed." + + +Many people lose in the aggregate whole years of time out of their +lives for want of system. They make no plan for their days. They let +duties mingle in inextricable confusion. They are always in feverish +haste. They talk continually of being overwhelmed with work, of the +great pressure that is upon them, of being driven beyond measure. They +always have the air of men who have scarcely time to eat or sleep. And +there is nothing feigned in all their intense occupation. They really +are hurried men. Yet in the end they accomplish but little in +comparison with their great activity, because they work without order, +and always feverishly and nervously. Swiftness in accomplishment is +always calm and quiet. It plans well, suffering no confusion in tasks. +Hurried haste is always flurried haste, which does nothing well. +"Unhasting yet unresting" is the motto of quick and abundant +achievement. + + "'Without haste! without rest!' + Bind the motto to thy breast; + Bear it with thee as a spell; + Storm or sunshine, guard it well; + Heed not flowers that round thee bloom, + Bear it onward to the tomb. + + "Haste not! let no thoughtless deed + Mar for aye the spirit's speed; + Ponder well and know the right; + Onward then with all thy might; + Haste not; years can ne'er atone + For one reckless action done. + + "Rest not! life is sweeping by, + Do and dare before you die; + Something mighty and sublime + Leave behind to conquer time; + Glorious 'tis to live for aye + When these forms have passed away. + + "Haste not! rest not! calmly wait; + Meekly bear the storm of fate; + Duty be thy polar guide; + Do the right whate'er betide. + Haste not! rest not! Conflicts past, + God shall crown thy work at last." + + +There is another phase of the lesson. Not swiftness only, but patient +persistence through days and years, is the mark of true living. There +are many people who can work under pressure for a little time, but who +tire of the monotony and slack in their duty by and by, failing at last +because they cannot endure unto the end. There are people who begin +many noble things, but soon weary of them and drop them out of their +hands. They may pass for brilliant men, men even of genius, but in the +end they have for biography only a volume of fragments of chapters, not +one of them finished. Such men may attract a great deal of passing +attention, while the tireless plodders working beside them receive no +praise, no commendation; but in the real records of life, written in +abiding lines in God's Book, it is the latter who will shine in the +brightest splendor. Robert Browning puts this truth in striking way in +one of his poems:-- + + "Now, observe, + Sustaining is no brilliant self-display + Like knocking down or even setting up: + Much bustle these necessitate; and still + To vulgar eye, the mightier of the myth + Is Hercules, who substitutes his own + For Atlas' shoulder and supports the globe + A whole day,--not the passive and obscure + Atlas who bore, ere Hercules was born, + And is to go on bearing that same load + When Hercules turns ash on Oeta's top. + 'Tis the transition-stage, the tug and strain, + That strike men: standing still is stupid-like." + + +So we get our lesson. There is so much to do in the short days that we +dare not lose a moment. Life is so laden with responsibility that to +trifle at any point is sin. Even on the seizing of minutes eternal +issues may depend. Of course we must take needed rest to keep our +lives in condition for duty. But what shall we say of those strong men +and women who do almost nothing but rest? What shall we say of those +who live only to have amusement, who dance away their nights and then +sleep away their days, and thus hurry on toward the judgment-bar, doing +nothing for God or for man? Life is duty; every moment of it has its +own duty. There is no malfeasance so sad and so terrible in its +penalties as that which wastes the golden years in idleness or +pleasure, and leaves duty undone. + +Shall we not seek to crowd the days with most earnest living? Shall we +not learn to redeem the time from indolence, from loitering, from +unmethodicalness, from the waste of precious moments, from +self-indulgence, from impatience of persistent toil, from all that +lessens achievement? Shall we not learn to work swiftly for our Master? + + "You must live each day at your very best: + The work of the world is done by few; + God asks that a part be done by you. + + "Say oft of the years as they pass from sight, + 'This is life with its golden store: + I shall have it once, but it comes no more.' + + "Have a purpose, and do with your utmost might: + You will finish your work on the other side, + When you wake in his likeness, satisfied." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE SHADOWS WE CAST. + + + "The smallest bark on life's tumultuous ocean + Will leave a track behind for evermore; + The slightest wave of influence set in motion + Extends and widens to the eternal shore." + + +Every one of us casts a shadow. There hangs about us a sort of +penumbra,--a strange, indefinable something,--which we call personal +influence, which has its effect on every other life on which it falls. +It goes with us wherever we go. It is not something we can have when +we want to have it, and then lay aside when we will, as we lay aside a +garment. It is something that always pours out from our life, like +light from a lamp, like heat from flame, like perfume from a flower. + +No one can live, and not have influence. Says Elihu Burritt: "No human +being can come into this world without increasing or diminishing the +sum total of human happiness, not only of the present, but of every +subsequent age of humanity. No one can detach himself from this +connection. There is no sequestered spot in the universe, no dark +niche along the disk of non-existence, to which he can retreat from his +relations to others, where he can withdraw the influence of his +existence upon the moral destiny of the world; everywhere his presence +or absence will be felt, everywhere he will have companions who will be +better or worse for his influence." These are true words. To be at +all is to have influence, either for good or evil, over other lives. + +The ministry of personal influence is something very wonderful. +Without being conscious of it, we are always impressing others by this +strange power that goes out from us. Others watch us and their actions +are modified by ours. Many a life has been started on a career of +beauty and blessing by the influence of one noble act. The disciples +saw their Master praying, and were so impressed by his earnestness, or +by the radiancy they saw on his face, as he communed with his Father, +that when he joined them again they asked him to teach them how to +pray. Every true soul is impressed continually by the glimpses it has +of loveliness, of holiness, or of nobleness in others. + +One kind deed often inspires many kindnesses. Here is a story from a +newspaper of the other day, which illustrates this. A little newsboy +entered a car on the elevated railway train, and slipping into a +cross-seat, was soon asleep. Presently two young ladies came in, and +took seats opposite to him. The child's feet were bare, his clothes +were ragged, and his face was pinched and drawn, showing marks of +hunger and suffering. The young ladies noticed him, and, seeing that +his cheek rested against the hard window-sill, one of them arose, and +quietly raising his head, slipped her muff under it for a pillow. + +The kind act was observed, and now mark its influence. An old +gentleman in the next seat, without a word, held out a silver quarter +to the young lady, nodding toward the boy. After a moment's +hesitation, she took it, and as she did so, another man handed her a +dime, a woman across the aisle held out some pennies, and almost before +the young woman realized what she was doing, she was taking a +collection for the poor boy. Thus from the one little act there had +gone out a wave of influence touching the hearts of two score people, +and leading each of them to do something. + +Common life is full of just such illustrations of the influence of +kindly deeds. Every good life leaves in the world a twofold ministry, +that of the things it does directly to bless others, and that of the +silent influence it exerts, through which others are made better, or +are inspired to do like good things. + +Influence is something, too, which even death does not end. When +earthly life closes, a good man's active work ceases. He is missed in +the places where his familiar presence has brought benedictions. No +more are his words heard by those who ofttimes have been cheered or +comforted by them. No more do his benefactions find their way to homes +of need where so many times they have brought relief. No more does his +gentle friendship minister strength and hope and courage to hearts that +have learned to love him. The death of a good man, in the midst of his +usefulness, cuts off a blessed ministry of helpfulness in the circle in +which he has dwelt. But his influence continues. Longfellow writes:-- + + "Alike are life and death + When life in death survives, + And the uninterrupted breath + Inspires a thousand lives. + + "Were a star quenched on high, + For ages would its light, + Still travelling downward from the sky, + Shine on our mortal sight. + + "So when a great man dies, + For years beyond our ken + The light he leaves behind him lies + Upon the paths of men." + + +The influence which our dead have over us is ofttimes very great. We +think we have lost them when we see their faces no more, nor hear their +voices, nor receive the accustomed kindnesses at their hands. But in +many cases there is no doubt that what our loved ones do for us after +they are gone is quite as important as what they could have done for us +had they stayed with us. The memory of beautiful lives is a +benediction, softened and made more rich and impressive by the sorrow +which their departure caused. The influence of such sacred memories is +in a certain sense more tender than that of life itself. Death +transfigures our loved one, as it were, sweeping away the faults and +blemishes of the mortal life, and leaving us an abiding vision, in +which all that was beautiful, pure, gentle, and true in him remains to +us. We often lose friends in the competitions and strifes of earthly +life, whom we would have kept forever had death taken them away in the +earlier days when love was strong. Often is it true, as Cardinal +Newman writes:-- + + "He lives to us who dies; he is but lost who lives." + + +Thus even death doth not quench the influence of a good life. It +continues to bless others long after the life has passed from earth. +It is true, as Mrs. Sangster writes:-- + + "They never quite leave us, our friends who have passed + Through the shadows of death to the sunlight above; + A thousand sweet memories are holding them fast + To the places they blessed with their presence and love. + + "The work which they left and the books which they read + Speak mutely, though still with an eloquence rare, + And the songs that they sung, and the dear words that they said + Yet linger and sigh on the desolate air. + + "And oft when alone, and oft in the throng, + Or when evil allures us, or sin draweth nigh, + A whisper comes gently, 'Nay, do not the wrong,' + And we feel that our weakness is pitied on high." + + +It must be remembered that not all influence is good. Evil deeds also +have influence. Bad men live, too, after they are gone. Cried a dying +man whose life had been full of harm to others: "Gather up my +influence, and bury it with me in my grave." But the frantic, +remorseful wish was in vain. The man went out of the world, but his +influence stayed behind him, its poison to work for ages in the lives +of others. + +We need, therefore, to guard our influence with most conscientious +care. It is a crime to fling into the street an infected garment which +may carry contagion to men's homes. It is a worse crime to send out a +printed page bearing words infected with the virus of moral death. The +men who prepare and publish the vile literature which to-day goes +everywhere, polluting and defiling innocent lives, will have a fearful +account to render when they stand at God's bar to meet their influence. +If we would make our lives worthy of God, and a blessing to the world, +we must see to it that nothing we do shall influence others in the +slightest degree to evil. + +In the early days of American art there went from this country to +London a young artist of genius and of a pure heart. He was poor, but +had an aspiration for noble living as well as for fine painting. Among +his pictures was one that in itself was pure, but that by a sensuous +mind might be interpreted in an evil way. A lover of art saw this +picture and purchased it. But when it was gone the young artist began +to think of its possible hurtful influence on the weak, and his +conscience troubled him. He went to his patron and said, "I have come +to buy back my picture." The purchaser could not understand him. +"Didn't I pay you enough for it? Do you need money?" he asked. "I am +poor," replied the artist, "but my art is my life. Its mission must be +good. The influence of that picture may possibly be harmful. I cannot +be happy with it before the eyes of the world. It must be withdrawn." + +We should keep watch not only over our words and deeds in their intent +and purpose, but also in their possible influence over others. There +may be liberties which in us lead to no danger, but which to others, +with less stable character and less helpful environment, would be full +of peril. It is part of our duty to think of these weaker ones and of +the influence of our example upon them. We may not do anything, in our +strength and security, which might possibly harm others. We must be +willing to sacrifice our liberty, if by its exercise we endanger +another's soul. This is the teaching of St. Paul in the words: "It is +good not to eat flesh, nor to drink wine, nor to do anything whereby +thy brother stumbleth"; and "If meat maketh my brother to stumble, I +will eat no flesh for evermore, that I make not my brother to stumble." + +How can we make sure of an influence that shall be only a benediction? +There is no way but by making our life pure and good. Just in the +measure in which we are filled with the Spirit of God and have the love +of Christ in us, shall our influence be holy and a blessing to the +world. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +THE MEANING OF OPPORTUNITIES. + + + "'To-day' unsullied comes to thee--newborn, + To-morrow is not thine; + The sun may cease to shine + For thee, ere earth shall greet its morn. + + "Be earnest, then, in thought and deed, + Nor fear approaching night; + Calm comes with evening light, + And hope and peace. Thy duty heed 'to-day.'" + --RUSKIN. + + +If people's first thoughts were but as good and wise as their +after-thoughts, life would be better and more beautiful than it is. We +can all see our errors more clearly after we have committed them than +we saw them before. We frequently hear persons utter the wish that +they could go again over a certain period of their life, saying that +they would live it differently, that they would not repeat the mistakes +or follies which had so marred and stained the record they had made. + +Of course the wish that one might have a second chance with any past +period of time is altogether vain. No doubt there ofttimes is much +reason for shame and pain in our retrospects. We live poorly enough at +the best, even the saintliest of us, and many of us certainly make sad +work of our life. Human life must appear very pathetic, and ofttimes +tragical, as the angels look down upon it. There are almost infinitely +fewer wrecks on the great sea where the ships go, than on that other +sea of which poets write, where lives with their freightage of immortal +hopes and possibilities sail on to their destiny. We talk sometimes +with wonder of what the ocean contains, of the treasures that lie +buried far down beneath the waves. But who shall tell of the treasures +that are hidden in the deeper, darker sea of human life, where they +have gone down in the sad hours of defeat and failure? + + "In dim green depths rot ingot-laden ships, + While gold doubloons, that from the drowned hand fell, + Lie nestled in the ocean-flowers' bell + With love's gemmed rings once kissed by now dead lips; + And round some wrought-gold cup the sea-grass whips, + And hides lost pearls, near pearls still in their shell + Where sea-weed forests fill each ocean dell, + And seek dim sunlight with their countless tips. + + "So lie the wasted gifts, the long-lost hopes, + Beneath the now hushed surface of myself. + In lonelier depths than where the river gropes, + They lie deep, deep; but I at times behold, + In doubtful glimpses, on some reefy shelf, + The gleam of irrecoverable gold." + + +Glimpses of these lost things--these squandered treasures, these wasted +possibilities, these pearls and gems of life that have gone down into +the sea of our past--we may have when the reefs are left bare by the +refluent tides, but glimpses only can we see. We cannot recover our +treasures. The gleams only mock us. The past will not give again its +gold and pearls to any frantic appealing of ours. + +There is something truly startling in this irreparableness of the past, +this irrevocableness of the losses which we have suffered through our +follies or our sins. About two centuries ago a great sun-dial was +erected in All Souls' College, Oxford, England, the largest and noblest +dial, it is said, in the whole kingdom. Over the long pointer were +written, in large letters of gold, the Latin words, referring to the +hours, "_Pereunt et imputantur_." Literally, the meaning is, "They +perish, and are set down to our account"; or, as they have been +rendered in terser phrase, "They are wasted, and are added to our debt." + +It is said that these words on the dial have exerted a wonderful +influence on the boyhood of many of the distinguished men who have +received their training at Oxford, stimulating them to the most +conscientious use of the golden hours as they passed, and bearing fruit +in long lives of earnestness and faithfulness. The lesson is one that +every young person should learn. In youth the hours are full of +privileges. They come like angels, holding in their hands rich +treasures, sent to us from God, which they offer to us; and if we are +laggard or indolent, or if we are too intent on our own little trifles +to give welcome to these heavenly messengers with their heavenly gifts, +they quickly pass on and are gone. And they never come back again to +renew the offer. + +On the dial of a clock in the palace of Napoleon at Malmaison, the +maker has put, the words, "_Non nescit reverti_"; "It does not know how +to go backward." It is so of the great clock of Time--it never can be +turned backward. The moments come to us but once; whatever we do with +them we must do as they pass, for they will never come to us again. + +Then privilege makes responsibility. We shall have to give account to +God for all that he sends to us by the mystic hands of the passing +hours, and which we refuse or neglect to receive. "They are wasted and +are added to our debt." + +The real problem of living, therefore, is how to take what the hours +bring. He who does this, will live nobly and faithfully, and will +fulfil God's plan for his life. The difference in men is not in the +opportunities that come to them, but in their use of their +opportunities. Many people who fail to make much of their life charge +their failure to the lack of opportunities. They look at one who is +continually doing good and beautiful things, or great and noble things, +and think that he is specially favored, that the chances which come to +him for such things are exceptional. Really, however, it is in his +capacity for seeing and accepting what the hours bring of duty or +privilege, that his success lies. Where other men see nothing, he sees +a battle to fight, a duty to perform, a service to render, or an honor +to win. Many a man waits long for opportunities, wondering why they +never come to him, when really they have been passing by him day after +day, unrecognized and unaccepted. + +There is a legend of an artist, who long sought for a piece of +sandal-wood out of which to carve a Madonna. At last he was about to +give up in despair, leaving the vision of his life unrealized, when in +a dream he was bidden to shape the figure from a block of oak-wood, +which was destined for the fire. Obeying the command, he produced from +the log of common firewood a masterpiece. + +In like manner many people wait for great and brilliant opportunities +for doing the good things, the beautiful things, of which they dream, +while through all the plain, common days, the very opportunities they +require for such deeds lie close to them, in the simplest and most +familiar passing events, and in the homeliest circumstances. They wait +to find sandal-wood out of which to carve Madonnas, while far more +lovely Madonnas than they dream of, are hidden in the common logs of +oak they burn in their open fire-place, or spurn with their feet in the +wood-yard. + +Opportunities come to all. The days of every life are full of them. +But the trouble with too many of us is that we do not make anything out +of them while we have them. Then next moment they are gone. One man +goes through life sighing for opportunities. If only he had this or +that gift, or place, or position, he would do great things, he says; +but with his means, his poor chances, his meagre privileges, his +uncongenial circumstances, his limitations, he can do nothing worthy of +himself. Then another man comes up close beside him, with like means, +chances, circumstances, privileges, and he achieves noble results, does +heroic things, wins for himself honor and renown. The secret is in the +man, not in his environment. Mr. Sill puts this well in his lines:-- + + "This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream: + There spread a cloud of dust along a plain; + And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged + A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords + Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner + Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. + A craven hung along the battle's edge, + And thought, 'Had I a sword of keener steel-- + That blue blade that the king's son bears--but this + Blunt thing.'--He snapt and flung it from his hand, + And lowering crept away and left the field. + Then came the king's son wounded, sore bestead, + And weaponless, and saw the broken sword, + Hilt buried in the dry and trodden sand, + And ran and snatched it, and with battle shout + Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down, + And saved a great cause that heroic day." + + +With the blunt sword, broken now, which the craven had flung away as +unfit for use, the princely hand won its great victory. Life is full +of illustrations of this very experience. The materials of life which +one man has despised and spurned as unworthy of him, as having in them +no charmed secret of success, another man is forever picking up out of +the dust, and with them achieving noble and brilliant successes. Men, +alert and eager, are wanted, men with heroic heart and princely hand, +to see and use the opportunities that lie everywhere in the most +commonplace life. + +There is but one thing to do to get out of life all its possibilities +of attainment and achievement; we must train ourselves to take what +every moment brings to us of privilege and of duty. Some people worry +themselves over the vague wonder as to what the divine plan in life is +for them. They have a feeling that God had some definite purpose in +creating them, and that there is something he wants them to do in this +world, and they would like to know how they can learn this divine +thought for their life. The answer is really very simple. God is +ready to reveal to us, with unerring definiteness, his plan for our +life. This revealing he makes as we go on, showing us each moment one +little fragment of his purpose. Says Faber: "The surest method of +aiming at a knowledge of God's eternal purposes about us is to be found +in the right use of the present moment. Each hour comes with some +little fagot of God's will fastened upon its back." + +We have nothing to do, therefore, with anything save the privilege and +duty of the one hour now passing. This makes the problem of living +very simple. We need not look at our life as a whole, nor even carry +the burden of a single year; if we but grasp well the meaning of the +one little fragment of time immediately present, and do instantly all +the duty and take all the privilege that the one hour brings, we shall +thus do that which shall best please God and build up our own life into +completeness. It ought never to be hard for us to do this. + + "God broke our years to hours and days, that hour by hour + And day by day + Just going on a little way, + We might be able all along + To keep quite strong. + Should all the weight of life + Be laid across our shoulder, and the future, rife + With woe and struggle, meet us face to face + At just one place, + We could not go, + Our feet would stop; and so + God lays a little on us every day, + And never, I believe, on all the way + Will burdens bear so deep, + Or pathways lie so threatening and so steep, + But we can go, if by God's power + We only bear the burden of the hour." + + +Living thus we shall make each hour radiant with the radiancy of duty +well done, and radiant hours will make radiant years. But the missing +of privileges and the neglecting of duties will leave days and years +marred and blemished and make the life at last like a moth-eaten +garment. We must catch the sacred meaning of our opportunities if we +would live up to our best. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE SIN OF INGRATITUDE. + + + "The sun may shine upon the clod till it is warm, + Warm for its own poor darkling self to live. + He smites the diamond, and oh, how glows the gem, + Chilling itself, irradiant, to give. + + "The silent soul, that takes but gives not out again, + In shining thankfulness, a smile, a tear, + Absorbing, makes none other glad, and misses so + The purest and the best of love's rich cheer." + --MARY K. A. STONE. + + +A blessing given ought always to have some return. It is better to be +a diamond, lighted to shine, than a clod, warmed to be only a dull, +dark clod. We all receive numberless favors, but we do not all alike +make fitting return. + +Krummacher has a pleasant little fable with a suggestion. When +Zaccheus was old he still dwelt in Jericho, humble and pious before God +and man. Every morning at sunrise he went out into the fields for a +walk, and he always came back with a calm and happy mind to begin his +day's work. His wife wondered where he went in his walks, but he never +spoke to her of the matter. One morning she secretly followed him. He +went straight to the tree from which he first saw the Lord. Hiding +herself, she watched him to see what he would do. He took a pitcher, +and carrying water, he poured it about the tree's roots which were +getting dry in the sultry climate. He pulled up some weeds here and +there. He passed his hand fondly over the old trunk. Then he looked +up at the place among the branches where he had sat that day when he +first saw Jesus. After this he turned away, and with a smile of +gratitude went back to his home. His wife afterward referred to the +matter and asked him why he took such care of the old tree. His quiet +answer was, "It was that tree which brought me to him whom my soul +loveth." + +There is no true life without its sacred memorial of special blessing +or good. There is something that tells of favor, of deliverance, of +help, of influence, of teaching, of great kindness. There is some +spot, some quiet walk, some room, some book, some face, that always +recalls sweet memories. There is something that is precious to us +because in some way it marks a holy place in life's journey. Most of +us understand that loving interest of Zaccheus in his old tree, and can +believe the little fancy to be even true. In what life is there no +place that is always kept green in memory, because there a sweet +blessing was received? + +Yet there seem to be many who forget their benefits. There is much +ingratitude in the world. It may not be so universal as some would +have us believe. There surely are many who carry in their hearts, +undimmed for long years, the memory of benefits and kindnesses received +from friends, and who never cease to be grateful and to show their +gratitude. Wordsworth wrote:-- + + "I've heard of hearts unkind, + Kind deeds with coldness still returning; + Alas! the gratitude of men + Hath left me oftener mourning." + +However, Archdeacon Farrar, referring to these words, says, "If +Wordsworth found gratitude a common virtue, his experience must have +been exceptional." There certainly are hearts unkind that do return +coldness for kind deeds. There are children who forget the love and +sacrifices of their parents and repay their countless kindnesses, not +with grateful affection, honor, obedience, thoughtfulness, and service, +but with disregard, indifference, disobedience, dishonor, sometimes +even with shameful neglect and unkindness. There are those who receive +help from friends in unnumbered ways, through years, help that brings +to them great aid in life--promotion, advancement, improvement in +character, widening of privileges and opportunities, tender kindness +that warms, blesses, and inspires the heart, and enriches, refines, and +ennobles the life--who yet seem never to recognize or appreciate the +benefit and the good they receive. They appear to feel no obligation, +no thankfulness. They make no return of love for all of love's +ministry. They even repay it with complaint, with criticism, with +bitterness. We have all known years of continued favors forgotten, and +their memory wiped out by one small failure to grant a new request for +help. We have all known malignant hate to be the return for long +periods of lavish kindness. + +Ingratitude is robbery. It robs those to whom gratitude is due, for it +is the withholding of that which is justly theirs. If you are kind to +another, is he not your debtor? If you show another favors, does not +he owe you thanks? True, you ask no return, for love does not work for +wages. Only selfishness demands repayment for help given, and is +embittered by ingratitude. The Christly spirit continues to give and +bless, pouring out its love in unstinted measure, though no act or word +or look tells of gratitude. + + "If thy true service mounted, in its aim, + No higher than the praise that men bestow + On noble sacrifice, there might be shame + That thou hast missed it so. + + "But not for selfish gain or low reward, + Didst thou so labor under shade and sun; + But with the conscious sense that for thy Lord + This weary work was done. + + "He asked no thanks, no recognition nigh, + No tender acceptation of his grace, + No pitying tear from one responsive eye, + No answering human face. + + "To do God's will--that was enough for Christ, + 'Mid griefs that make all agonies look dim. + It shall for thee suffice--it hath sufficed, + As it sufficed for him." + + +Yet while love does not work for wages, nor demand an equivalent for +its services, it is sorely wronged when ungrateful lips are dumb. The +quality of ingratitude is not changed because faithful love is not +frozen in the heart by its coldness. We owe at least loving +remembrance to one who has shown us kindness, though no other return +may be possible, or though large return may already have been made. We +can never be absolved from the duty of being grateful. "Owe no man +anything but love" is a heavenly word. We always owe love; that is a +debt we never can pay off. + +Ingratitude is robbery. But it is cruelty as well as robbery. It +always hurts the heart that must endure it. Few faults or injuries +cause more pain and grief in tender spirits than ingratitude. The pain +may be borne in silence. Men do not speak of it to others, still less +to those whose neglect or coldness inflicts it; yet It is like thorns +in the pillow. + + "Blow, blow, thou winter wind; + Thou art not so unkind + As man's ingratitude." + +Parents suffer unspeakably when the children for whom they have lived, +suffered, and sacrificed, prove ungrateful. The ungrateful child does +not know what bitter sorrow he causes the mother who bore him and +nursed him, and the father who loves him more than his own life; how +their hearts bleed; how they weep in secret over his unkindness. We do +not know how we hurt our friends when we treat them ungratefully, +forgetting all they have done for us, and repaying their favors with +coldness. + +There is yet more of this lesson. Gratitude, to fulfil its gentle +ministry, must find some fitting expression. It is not enough that it +be cherished in the heart. There are many good people who fail at this +point. They are really thankful for the good others do to them. They +feel kindly enough in their hearts toward their benefactors. Perhaps +they speak to other friends of the kindnesses they have received. They +may even put it into their prayers, telling God how they have been +helped by others of his children, and asking him to reward and bless +those who have been good to them. But meanwhile they do not in any way +express their grateful feelings to the persons who have done them the +favors or rendered them the offices of friendship. + +How does your friend know that you are grateful, if you do not in some +way tell him that you are? Verily here is a sore fault of love, this +keeping sealed up in the heart the generous feeling, the tender +gratitude, which we ought to speak, and which would give so much +comfort if it were spoken in the ear that ought to hear it. No pure, +true, loving human heart ever gets beyond being strengthened and warmed +to nobler service by words of honest and sincere appreciation. +Flattery is contemptible; only vain spirits are elated by it. +Insincerity is a sickening mockery; the sensitive soul turns away from +it in revulsion. But words of true gratitude are always to human +hearts like cups of water to thirsty lips. We need not fear turning +people's heads by genuine expressions of thankfulness; on the other +hand, nothing inspires such humility, such reverent praise to God, as +the knowledge which such gratitude brings,--that one has been used of +God to help, or bless, or comfort another life. + +Silence is said to be golden, and ofttimes, indeed, it is better than +speech. "It is a fine thing in friendship," says George MacDonald, "to +know when to be silent." There are times when silence is the truest, +fittest, divinest, most blessed thing, when words would only mar the +hallowed sweetness of love's ministry. But there are times again when +silence is disloyalty, cruelty, unkind as winter air to tender plants. +Especially is this true of gratitude; to be coldly silent, when the +heart is grateful, is a sin against love. When we have a word of +thanks in our heart, which we feel we might honestly speak, and which +we do not speak, we have sorely wronged our friend. + +Especially in homes ought there to be more grateful expression. We +wrong home friends more than any other friends. Home is where love is +truest and tenderest. We need never fear being misunderstood by the +loved ones who there cluster about us. Yet too often home is the very +place where we are most miserly of grateful and appreciative words. We +let gentle spirits starve close beside us for the words of +affectionateness that lie warm, yet unspoken, on our tongues. None of +us know what joy and strength we could impart to others, if only we +would train ourselves to give fitting, delicate, and thoughtful +expression to the gratitude that is in our hearts. We would become +blessings to all about us, and would receive into our life new +gladness. Nothing is sadder than the sorrow witnessed about many a +Coffin; the grief of bereavement and loss made bitter by the regret +that now the too slow gratitude of the heart shall never have +opportunity to utter itself in the ear which waited so long, hungry, +and in vain, for the word that would have given such comfort. + + "Over the coffin pitiful we stand, + And place a rose within the helpless hand, + That yesterday, mayhap, we would not see, + When it was meekly offered. On the heart + That often ached for an approving word, + We lay forget-me-nots--we turn away, + And find the world is colder for the loss + Of this so faulty and so loving one. + + "Think of that moment, ye who reckon close + With love--so much for every gentle thought, + The moment when love's richest gifts are naught: + When a pale flower, upon a pulseless breast, + Like your regret, exhales its sweets in vain." + + +But it is not enough that we be grateful and show our gratitude to the +human friends who do us kindnesses. It is to God that we owe all. +Every good and perfect gift, no matter how it reaches us, through what +messenger, in what form, "cometh down from above, from the Father of +lights." All the blessings of Providence, all the tender things that +come to us through human love and friendship, are God's gifts. + + "Whence came the father-heart in man, + The mother-heart in woman? + The love throughout the cosmic plan + Which makes God's children human? + + "These never came: what we control + Is good because 'tis given, + And all made better to man's soul + By the sweet touch of heaven." + + +We owe thanks to God, therefore, for all that we receive. When we have +shown gratitude to our human benefactors, we still owe our Heavenly +Father thanks and gratitude. It is possible, too, for us to be +grateful to the friends who help us, and yet be as atheists, never +recognizing God, nor giving him any thanks. This is the sorest sin of +all. We rob God, and hurt his heart, every time we receive any favor +at whatsoever hand, and fail to speak our praise to him. + +Whatever we may say about man's ingratitude to his fellow-men, there is +no question about man's lack of gratitude to God. We are continually +receiving mercies and favors from him, and yet, are there not days and +days with most of us, in which we lift no heart and speak no word in +praise? Our prayers are largely requests and supplications for help +and favor, with but little adoration and worship. We continue asking +and asking, and God continues giving and giving; but how many of us +remember always or often to give thanks for answered prayer? The angel +of requests--so the legend runs--goes back from earth heavily laden +every time he comes to gather up the prayers of men. But the angel of +thanksgiving, of gratitude, has almost empty hands as he returns from +his errands to this world. Yet ought we not to give thanks for all +that we receive and for every answered request? If we were to do this +our hearts would always be lifted up toward God in praise. + +There is a story of some great conductor of a musical festival suddenly +throwing up his baton, and stopping the performance, crying, +"Flageolet!" The flageolet was not doing its part and the conductor's +trained ear missed its one note in the large orchestra. Does not God +miss any voice that is silent in the music of earth that rises up to +him? And are there not many voices that are silent, taking no part in +the song, giving forth no praise? Shall we not quickly start our +heart-song of gratitude, calling upon every power of our being to +praise God? + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +SOME SECRETS OF HAPPY HOME LIFE. + + + "The primal duties shine aloft like stars; + The charities that sooth and heal and bless + Are scattered at the feet of men like flowers. + * * * * The smoke ascends + To heaven as lightly from the cottage hearth + As from the lofty palace." + --WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. + + +Home life ought to be happy. The benediction of Christ on every home +to which he is welcomed as an abiding guest is, "Peace be to this +house." While perfection of happiness is unattainable in this world, +rich, deep, heart-filling happiness certainly may be, and ought to be, +attained. + +Yet it requires wise building and delicate care to make a home truly +and perfectly happy. Such a home does not come as a matter of course, +by natural growth, wherever a family takes up its abode. Happiness has +to be planned for, lived for, sacrificed for, ofttimes suffered for. +Its price in a home is always the losing of self on the part of those +who make up the household. Home happiness is the incense that rises +from the altar of mutual self-sacrifice. + +It may be said, in a word, that Christ himself is the one great, +blessed, secret of all home happiness; Christ at the marriage altar; +Christ when the baby is born; Christ when the baby dies; Christ in the +days of plenty; Christ in the pinching times; Christ in all the +household life; Christ in the sad hour when farewells must be spoken, +when one goes on before and the other stays, bearing the burden of an +unshared grief. Christ is the secret of happy home life. + +But for the sake of simplicity the lesson may be broken up. For one +thing, the husband has much to do in solving the problem. Does a man +think always deeply of the responsibility he assumes when he takes a +young wife away from the shelter of mother-love and father-love, the +warmest, softest human nest in this world, and leads her into a new +home, where his love is to be henceforth her only shelter? No man is +fit to be the husband of a true woman who is not a good man. He need +not be great, nor brilliant, nor rich, but he must be good, or he is +not worthy to take a gentle woman's tender life into his keeping. + +Then he must be a man, true, brave, generous, manly. He must be a good +provider. He must be a sober man; no man who comes home intoxicated, +however rarely, is doing his share in making happiness for his wife and +family. He must be a man of pure, blameless life, whose name shall +grow to be an honor and a pride in his household. Husbands have a +great deal to do with the matter of happiness at home. + +The wife, too, has a responsibility. It should be understood at the +very beginning, that good housekeeping is one of the first secrets of a +happy home. If a man must be a good provider, a woman must be a good +home-maker. No woman is ready to marry until she has mastered the fine +arts of housekeeping. Home is the wife's kingdom. She holds very +largely in her hands the happiness of the hearts that nestle there. +The best husband, the truest, the noblest, the gentlest, the +richest-hearted, cannot make his home happy if his wife be not in every +sense a helpmeet. In the last analysis, home happiness does depend on +the wife. She is the true home-maker. + +Children, too, are great blessings, when God sends them, bringing into +the home rich possibilities of happiness. They cost care, and demand +toil and sacrifice; ofttimes causing pain and grief: yet the blessing +they bring repays a thousand times the care and cost. It is a sacred +hour in a home when a baby is born and laid in the arms of a young +father and mother. It brings fragments of heaven trailing after it to +the home of earth. There are few deeper, purer joys ever experienced +in this world than the joy of true parents at the birth of a child. +Much of home's happiness along the years is made by the children. We +say we train them, but they train us ofttimes more than we train them. +Our lives grow richer, our hearts are opened, our love becomes holier +when the children are about us. Croons a young mother over her babe:-- + + "And art thou mine, thou helpless, trembling thing, + Thou lovely presence? Bird, where is thy wing? + How pure thou art! fresh from the fields of light, + Where angels garner grain in robes of white. + + "Didst thou bring 'sealed instructions' with thee, dove, + How to unlock the fount of mother-love? + Full well dost thou fulfil thy winsome part; + With holy fire they're writ upon my heart. + + "My child, I fear thee! thou'rt a spirit, soul! + How shall I walk before thee? keep my garments whole? + O Lord, give strength, give wisdom for the task, + To train this child for thee! Yet more I ask: + + "Life of my life, for thee I crave best gifts and glad, + More than, even in dreams, thy mother had! + O Father! fine this gold! Oh, polish this, my gem! + Till it is fair and fitting for thy diadem." + + +Jesus said of little children that those who receive them, in his name, +receive him. May we not then say that children bring great possibility +of blessing and happiness to a home? They come to us as messengers +from heaven, bearing messages from God. Yet we may not know their +value while we have them. Ofttimes, indeed, it is only the empty crib +and the empty arms that reveal to us the full measure of home happiness +that we get from the children. Those to whom God gives children should +receive them with reverence. There are homes where mothers, who once +wearied easily of children's noises, sit now with aching hearts, and +would give the world to have a baby to nurse, or a rollicking boy to +care for. Children are among the secrets of a happy home. + +Turning to the life of the household, affectionateness is one of the +secrets of happiness. There are hundreds of homes in which there is +love that would die for its dear ones; and yet hearts are starving +there for love's daily bread. There is a tendency in some homes to +smother all of love's tenderness, to suppress it, to choke it back. +There are homes where the amenities of affection are unknown, and where +hearts starve for daily bread. There are husbands and wives between +whom love's converse has settled into the baldest conventionalities. +There are parents who never kiss their children after they are babies, +and who discourage in them as they grow up all longing for caresses. +There are homes whose daily life is marred by incessant petty strifes +and discourtesies. + +These are not exaggerations. Yet there is love in these homes, and all +that is needed is that it be set free to perform its sweet ministry. +There are cold, cheerless homes which could be warmed into love's +richest glow in a little while, if all the hearts of the household were +to grow affectionate in expression. Does the busy husband think that +his weary wife would not care any longer for the caresses and marks of +tenderness with which he used to thrill her? Let him return again for +a month to his old-time fondness, and then ask her if these youthful +amenities are distasteful to her. Do parents think their grown-up +children are too big to be petted, to be kissed at meeting and parting? +Let them restore again, for a time, something of the affectionateness +of the childhood days, and see if there is not a blessing in it. Many +who are longing for richer home happiness, need only to pray for a +spring-time of love, with a tenderness that is not afraid of +affectionate expression. + + "Comfort one another; + With the hand-clasp close and tender, + With the sweetness love can render, + And looks of friendly eyes. + Do not wait with grace unspoken + While life's daily bread is broken: + Gentle speech is oft like manna from the skies." + + +We ought not to fear to speak our love at home. We should get all the +tenderness possible into the daily household life. We should make the +morning good-byes, as we part at the breakfast-table, kindly enough for +final farewells; for they may be indeed final farewells. Many go out +in the morning who never come home at night; therefore, we should part, +even for a few hours, with kindly word, with lingering pressure of the +hand, lest we may never look again in each other's eyes. Tenderness in +a home is not a childish weakness, is not a thing to be ashamed of; it +is one of love's sacred duties. Affectionate expression is one of the +secrets of happy home life. + +Religion is another of these secrets. It is where the Gospel of Christ +is welcomed that heaven's benediction falls: "Peace be to this house." +There may be a certain measure of happiness in a home without Christ, +but it lacks something at best, and then when sorrow comes, and the sun +of earthly joy is darkened, there are no lamps of heavenly comfort to +lighten the darkness. Sad indeed is the Christless home, when a +beloved one lies dead within its doors. No words of Christian comfort +have any power to console, because there is no faith to receive them. +No stars shine through their cypress-trees. But how different it is in +the Christian home, in like sorrow! The grief is just as sore, but the +truth of immortality sheds holy light on the darkness, and there is a +deep joy which transfigures the sorrow. + +Then may we not even put sorrow down as one of the secrets of happiness +in a true Christian home? This may seem at first thought a strange +suggestion. But there surely are homes that have passed through +experiences of affliction that have a deeper, richer, fuller joy now +than they had before the grief came. The sorrow sobered their +gladness, making it less hilarious, but no less sweet. Bereavement +drew all the home hearts closer together. The loss of one from the +circle made those that remained dearer to each other than before. The +tears became crystalline lenses through which faith saw more deeply +into heaven. Then in the sorrow Christ came nearer, entering more +really into the life of the home. Prayer has meant more since the dark +days. There has been a new fragrance of love in the household. There +are many homes whose present rich, deep, quiet happiness sorrow helped +to make. + +But it is not in sorrow only that religion gives its benediction. It +makes all the happiness sweeter to have the assurance of God's love and +favor abiding in the household. Burdens are lighter because there is +One who shares them all. The morning prayer of the family, when all +bow together, makes the whole day fairer; and the evening prayer before +sleep, makes all feel safer for the night. Then religion inspires +unselfishness, thoughtfulness, the spirit of mutual helpfulness, of +burden-bearing, and serving, and thus enriches the home life. + +After a while the young folks scatter away, setting up homes of their +own. How beautiful it is then to see the old couple, who, thirty or +forty years before, stood together at the marriage altar, standing +together still, with love as true and pure and tender as ever, waiting +to go home. By and by the husband goes away and comes back no more, +and then the wife is lonesome and longs to go too. A little later and +she also is gone, and they are together again on the other side, those +dear old lovers, to be parted henceforth nevermore. And that is the +blessed end of a happy Christian home. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +GOD'S WINTER PLANTS. + + + "The wind that blows can never kill + The tree God plants; + It bloweth east; it bloweth west; + The tender leaves have little rest, + But any wind that blows is best. + The tree God plants + Strikes deeper root, grows higher still, + Spreads wider boughs, for God's good-will + Meets all its wants." + --LILLIE E. BARR. + + +One of the papers tells of a newly discovered flower. It is called the +snow-flower. It has been found in the northern part of Siberia. The +plant shoots up out of the ice and frozen soil. It has three leaves, +each about three inches in diameter. They grow on the side of the stem +toward the north. Each of the leaves appears to be covered with little +crystals of snow. The flower, when it opens, is star-shaped, its +petals being of the same length as the leaves, and about half an inch +in width. On the third day the extremities of the anthers show minute +glistening specks, like diamonds, which are the seeds of this wonderful +flower. + +Is not this strange snow-flower an illustration of many Christian +lives? God seems to plant them in the ice and snow; yet they live and +grow up out of the wintry cold into fair and wondrous beauty. We +should say that the loveliest lives of earth would be those that are +reared amid the gentlest, kindliest influences, under summer skies, in +the warm atmosphere of ease and comfort. But the truth is that the +noblest developments of Christian character are grown in the wintry +garden of hardship, struggle, and sorrow. + +Trial should not, therefore, be regarded with discouragement, as +something which will stunt and dwarf the life and mar its beauty. It +should be accepted rather, when it comes, as part of God's discipline, +through which he would bring out the noblest and best possibilities of +our character. Perhaps we would be happier for the time if we had +easier, more congenial conditions. Children might be happier without +restraint, without family government, without chastening--just left to +grow up into all wilfulness and waywardness. But there is something +better in life than present happiness. Disciplined character in +manhood, even though it has been gotten through stern and severe +home-training, is better than a childhood and youth of unrestraint, +with a worthless manhood as the outcome. A noble life, bearing God's +image, even at the price of much pain and self-denial, is better than +years of freedom from care and sacrifice with a life unblessed and lost +at the end. "To serve God and love him," says one, "is higher and +better than happiness, though it be with wounded feet and bleeding +hands and heart loaded with sorrow." + + "So much we miss + If love is weak; so much we gain + If love is strong. God thinks no pain + Too sharp or lasting to ordain + To teach us this." + + +It is well that we should understand how to receive trial so as to get +from its hard experience the good it has for us. For one thing, we +should accept it always reverently. Resistance forfeits the blessing +which can be yielded only to the loving, submissive spirit. +Teachableness is the unvarying condition of learning. To rebel against +trial is to miss whatever good it may have brought for us. There are +some who resent all severity and suffering in their lot as unkindness +in God. These grow no better under divine chastening, but instead are +hurt by it. When we accept the conditions of our life, however hard, +as divinely ordained, and as the very conditions in which, for a time, +we will grow the best, we are ready to get from them the blessing and +good intended in them for us. + +Another important suggestion is that we faint not under trial. There +are those who give up and lose all their courage and faith when trouble +comes. They cannot endure suffering. Sorrow crushes them. They break +down at once under a cross and think they never can go on again. There +have been many lives crushed by affliction or adversity, which have not +risen again out of the dust. There have been mothers, happy and +faithful before, out of whose home one child has been taken, and who +have lost all interest in life from that day, letting their home grow +dreary and desolate and their other children go uncared for, as they +sat with folded hands in the abandonment of their despairing, +uncomforted grief. There have been men with bright hopes, who have +suffered one defeat or met with one loss, and then have let go in their +discouragement and have fallen into the dust of failure, never trying +to rise again. + +Nothing is sadder in life than such yieldings. They are unworthy of +immortal beings. The divine intention in trial never is to crush us, +but always to do good to us in some way, to bring out in us new energy +of life. Whatever the loss, struggle, or sorrow, we should accept it +in love, humility, and faith, take its lessons, and then go on into the +life that is before us. When one child is taken out of a home, the +mother should, with more reverent heart and more gentle hand, turn the +whole energy of her chastened life into love's channels, living more +than ever before for her home and the children that are left to her. +The man who has felt the stunning blow of a sudden grief or loss should +kiss the hand of God that has smitten, and quickly arise and press +onward to the battles and duties before him. We should never accept +any defeat as final. Though it be in life's last hours, with only a +mere fringe of margin left, and all our past failure and loss, still we +should not despair. + + "What though the radiance which was once so bright, + Be now forever taken from my sight; + Though nothing can bring back the hour + Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower, + We will grieve not, rather find + Strength in what remains behind." + + +There is nowhere any better illustration of the way we should always +rise again out of trial than we have in the life of St. Paul. From the +day of his conversion till the day of his death, trouble followed him. +He was misunderstood; he was cast out for Christ's sake; he met +persecution in every form; he was shipwrecked; he lay in dungeons; he +was deserted by his friends. But he never fainted, never grew +discouraged, never spoke one word about giving up. "Cast down, but not +destroyed," was the story of his life. He quickly arose out of every +trial, every adversity, with a new light in his eye, a new enthusiasm +in his heart. He could not be defeated, for he had Christ in him. +Shall we not catch St. Paul's unconquerable spirit, that we may never +faint in any trial? + +It requires faith to meet trouble and adversity heroically. +Undoubtedly, at the time, the blessing is not apparent in the sorrow or +the defeat. All seems disastrous and destructive. It is in the +future, in the outworking, that the good is to come. It is a matter of +faith, not of sight. "All chastening seemeth for the present to be not +joyous, but grievous; yet afterward it yieldeth peaceable fruit unto +them that have been exercised thereby, even the fruit of +righteousness." Oh, the blessing of God's "afterwards"! Jacob one day +thought and said that all things were against him, but afterward he saw +that his great afflictions and losses were wrought in as parts of a +beautiful plan of love for him. The disciples thought that the cross +was the destruction of all their Messianic hopes; afterward they saw +that it was the very fulfilment of these hopes. The pruning, which at +the time cuts so into the life of the vine, lopping off great, rich +branches, afterward is seen to have been the saving and enriching of +the whole vine. So we always need faith. We must believe against +appearances. + + "Under the fount of ill + Many a cup doth fill, + And the patient lip, though it drinketh oft, + Finds only the bitter still. + + "Nevertheless, I know, + Out of the dark must grow, + Sooner or later, whatever is fair, + Since the heavens have willed it so." + + +Back and forth the plough was driven. The field was covered with +grasses and lovely flowers, but remorselessly through them all the +share tore its way, cutting furrow after furrow. It seemed that all +the beauty was being hopelessly destroyed. But by and by harvest-time +came, and the field waved with golden wheat. That was what the +ploughman's faith saw from the beginning. + +Sorrow seems to destroy the life of a child of God. Its rude share +ploughs again and again through it, making many a deep furrow, gashing +its beauty. But afterward a harvest of blessing and good grows up out +of the crushed and broken life. That is what God intends always in +trial and sorrow. + +Let us have the ploughman's faith, and we shall not faint when the +share is driven through our heart. Then by faith we shall see beyond +the pain and trial the blessing of richer life, of whiter holiness, of +larger fruitfulness. And to win that blessing will be worth all the +pain and trial. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +UNFINISHED LIFE-BUILDING. + + + "Let me not die before I've done for thee + My earthly work, whatever it may be. + Call me not hence, with mission unfulfilled; + Let me not leave my space of ground unfilled; + Impress this truth upon me, that not one + Can do my portion, that I leave undone." + + +We are all builders. We may not erect any house or temple on a city +street, for human eyes to see, but every one of us builds a fabric +which God and angels see. Life is a building. It rises slowly, day by +day, through the years. Every new lesson we learn lays a block on the +edifice which is rising silently within us. Every experience, every +touch of another life on ours, every influence that impresses us, every +book we read, every conversation we have, every act of our commonest +days, adds something to the invisible building. Sorrow, too, has its +place in preparing the stones to lie on the life-wall. All life +furnishes the material. + + "Our to-days and yesterdays + Are the blocks with which we build." + + +There are many noble fabrics of character reared in this world. But +there are also many who build only low, mean huts, without beauty, +which will be swept away in the testing-fires of judgment. There are +many, too, whose life-work presents the spectacle of an unfinished +building. There was a beautiful plan to begin with, and the work +promised well for a little time; but after a while it was abandoned and +left standing, with walls half-way up, a useless fragment, open and +exposed, an incomplete, inglorious ruin, telling no story of past +splendor as do the ruins of some old castle or coliseum, a monument +only of folly and failure. + +"There is nothing sadder," writes one, "than an incomplete ruin; one +that has never been of use; that never was what it was meant to be; +about which no pure, holy, lofty associations cling, no thoughts of +battles fought and victories won, or of defeats as glorious as +victories. God sees them where we do not. The highest tower may be +more unfinished than the lowest to him." + +We must not forget the truth of this last sentence. There are, lives +which to our eyes seem only to have been begun and then abandoned, +which to God's eyes are still rising into more and more graceful +beauty. Here is one who began his life-work with all the ardor of +youth and all the enthusiasm of a consecrated spirit. For a time his +hand never tired, his energy never slackened. Friends expected great +things from him. Then his health gave way. The diligent hand lies +idle and waiting now. His enthusiasm no more drives him afield. His +work lies unfinished. + +"What a pity!" men say. But wait! He has not left an unfinished +life-work as God sees it. He is resting in submission at the Master's +feet and is growing meanwhile as a Christian. The spiritual temple in +his soul is rising slowly in the silence. Every day is adding +something to the beauty of his character, as he learns the lessons of +patience, confidence, peace, joy, love. His building at the last will +be more beautiful than if he had been permitted to toil on through many +busy years, carrying out his own plans. He is fulfilling God's purpose +for his life. + +We must not measure spiritual building by earthly standards. Where the +heart remains loyal and true to Christ; where the cross of suffering is +taken up cheerfully and borne sweetly; where the spirit is obedient +though the hands lie folded and the feet must be still, the temple +rises continually toward finished beauty. + +Or here is one who dies in early youth. There was great promise in the +beautiful life. Affection had reared for it a noble fabric of hope. +Perhaps the beauty had begun to shine out in the face, and the hands +had begun to show their skill. Then death came and all the fair hopes +were folded away. The visions of loveliness and the dreams of noble +attainments and achievements lay like withered flowers upon the grave. +An unfinished life! friends cry in their disappointment and sorrow. So +it seems, surely, to love's eyes, from the earth-side. But so it is +not, as God's eye looks upon it. There is nothing unfinished that +fulfils the divine plan. God cuts off no young life till its earthly +work is done. Then the soul-building which began here and seemed to be +interrupted by death, was only hidden from our eyes by a thin veil, +behind which it still goes up with unbroken continuity, rising into +fairest beauty in the presence of God. + +But there are abandoned life-buildings whose story tells only of shame +and failure. Many persons begin to follow Christ, and after a little +time turn away from their profession and leave only a pretentious +beginning to stand as a ruin to be laughed at by the world and to +dishonor the Master's name. + +Sometimes it is discouragement that leads men to give up the work to +which they have put their hand. In one of his poems, Wordsworth tells +a pathetic story of a straggling heap of unhewn stones, and the +beginning of a sheepfold which was never finished. With his wife and +only son, old Michael, a Highland shepherd, dwelt for many years in +peace. But trouble came which made it necessary that the son should go +away to do for himself for a while. For a time good reports came from +him, and the old shepherd would go out when he had leisure and would +work on the sheepfold which he was building. By and by, however, sad +news came from Luke. In the great dissolute city he had given himself +to evil courses. Shame fell on him and he was driven to seek a +hiding-place beyond the seas. The sad tidings broke the old father's +heart. He went about as before, caring for his sheep. To the hollow +dell, too, he would repair from time to time, meaning to build at the +unfinished fold. But the neighbors in their pity noticed that he did +little work in those sad days. + + "'Tis believed by all + That many and many a day he thither went + And never lifted up a single stone. + There by the sheepfold sometimes was he seen + Sitting alone, with that his faithful dog, + Then old, beside him, lying at his feet. + The length of full seven years from time to time + He at the building of his sheepfold wrought, + And left the work unfinished when he died." + + +Years after the shepherd was gone the remains of the unfinished fold +were still there, a sad memorial of one who began to build but did not +finish. Sorrow broke his heart and his hand slacked. + +Too often noble life-buildings are abandoned in the time of sorrow, and +the hands that were quick and skilful before grief came, hang down and +do nothing more on the temple-wall. Instead, however, of giving up our +work and faltering in our diligence, we should be inspired by sorrow to +yet greater earnestness in all duty and greater fidelity in all life. +God does not want us to faint under chastening, but to go on with our +work, quickened to new earnestness by grief. + +Want of faith is another cause which leads many to abandon their +life-temples unfinished. Throngs followed Christ in the earlier days +of his ministry when all seemed bright, who, when they saw the shadow +of the cross, turned back and walked no more with him. They lost their +faith in him. It is startling to read how near even our Lord's +apostles came to leaving their buildings unfinished. Had not their +faith come again after their Master arose, they would have left in this +world only sad memorials of failure instead of glorious finished +temples. + +In these very days there are many who, through the losing of their +faith, are abandoning their work on the wall of the temple of Christian +discipleship, which they have begun to build. Who does not know those +who once were earnest and enthusiastic in Christian life, while there +was but little opposition, but who fainted and failed when it became +hard to confess Christ and walk with him? + +Then sin, in some form, draws many a builder away from his work, to +leave it unfinished. It may be the world's fascinations that draw him +from Christ's side. It may be sinful human companionships that lure +him from loyal friendship to his Saviour. It may be riches that enter +his heart and blind his eyes to the attractions of heaven. It may be +some secret, debasing lust that gains power over him and paralyzes his +spiritual life. Many are there now, amid the world's throngs, who once +sat at the Lord's Table and were among God's people. Unfinished +buildings their lives are, towers begun with great enthusiasm and then +left to tell their sad story of failure to all who pass by. They began +to build and were not able to finish. + +It is sad to think how much of this unfinished work God's angels see as +they look down upon our earth. Think of the good beginnings which +never come to anything in the end; the excellent resolutions which are +never carried out, the noble life-plans entered upon by so many young +people with ardent enthusiasm, but soon given up. Think of the +beautiful visions and fair hopes which might be made splendid +realities, but which fade out, not leaving the record of even one +sincere, earnest effort to work them into reality. + +In all lines of life we see these abandoned buildings. The business +world is full of them. Men began to build, but in a little time they +were gone, leaving their work uncompleted. They set out with gladness, +but tired at length of the toil, or grew disheartened at the slow +coming of success, and abandoned their ideal when it was perhaps just +ready to be realized. Many homes present the spectacle of abandoned +dreams of love. For a time the beautiful vision shone in radiance, and +two hearts sought to make it come true, but then gave it up in despair. + +So life everywhere is full of beginnings never carried out to +completion. There is not a soul-wreck on the streets, not a prisoner +serving out a sentence behind iron bars, not a debased, fallen one +anywhere, in whose soul there were not once visions of beauty, bright +hopes, holy thoughts and purposes, and high resolves--an ideal of +something lovely and noble. But alas! the visions, the hopes, the +purposes, the resolves, never grew into more than beginnings. God's +angels bend down and see a great wilderness of unfinished fabrics, +splendid possibilities unfulfilled, noble might-have-beens abandoned, +ghastly ruins now, sad memorials only of failure. + +The lesson from all this is, that we should finish our work, that we +should allow nothing to draw us away from our duty, that we should +never weary in following Christ, that we should hold fast the beginning +of our confidence steadfast unto the end. We should not falter under +any burden, in the face of any danger, before any demand of cost and +sacrifice. No discouragement, no sorrow, no worldly attraction, no +hardship, should weaken for one moment our determination to be faithful +unto death. No one who has begun to build for Christ should leave an +unfinished, abandoned life-work to grieve the heart of the Master and +to be sneered at as a reproach to the name he bears. + +Yet we must remember, lest we be discouraged, that only in a relative, +human sense can any life-building be made altogether complete. Our +best work is marred and imperfect. It is only when we are in Christ, +and are co-workers with him, that anything we do can ever be made +perfect and beautiful. But the weakest, and the humblest, who are +simply faithful, will stand at last complete in him. Even the merest +fragment of life, as it appears in men's eyes, if it be truly in +Christ, and filled with his love and with his Spirit, will appear +finished, when presented before the divine Presence. To do God's will, +whatever that may be, to fill out his plan, is to be complete in +Christ, though the stay on earth be but for a day, and though the work +done fulfil no great human plan, and leave no brilliant record among +men. + + "Thy work unfinished! Do not fear + Though at his coming may be found + The stone unset. + Yet, for thy faith, beyond the skies + Thine own shall be the longed-for prize. + He knoweth best who calls from labor now + To rest, to build no more." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +IRON SHOES FOR ROUGH ROADS. + + + "Our feeble frame he knoweth, + Remembereth we are dust; + And evermore his face is kind, + His ways are ever just. + In evil and in blindness, + Through darkened maze we rove, + But still our Father leads us home, + By strength of mighty love." + --MARGARET E. SANGSTER. + + +The matter of shoes is important. Especially is this true when the +roads are rough and hard. We cannot then get along without something +strong and comfortable to wear on our feet. One would scarcely expect +to find anything in the Bible about such a need as this. Yet it only +shows how truly the Bible is fitted to all our actual life to discover +in it a promise referring to shoes. + +In the blessing of Moses, pronounced before his death upon the several +tribes, there was this among other things for Asher: "Thy shoes shall +be iron." A little geographical note will help to make the meaning +plain. Part of Asher's allotted portion was hilly and rugged. Common +sandals, made of wood or leather, would not endure the wear and tear of +the sharp, flinty rocks. There was need, therefore, for some special +kind of shoes. Hence the form of the promise: "Thy shoes shall be +iron." + +Even the Bible words which took the most vivid local coloring from the +particular circumstances in which they were originally spoken, are yet +as true for us as they were for those to whom they first came. We have +only to get disentangled from the local allusions the real heart of the +meaning of the words, and we have an eternal promise which every child +of God may claim. + +Turning, then, this old-time assurance into a word for +nineteenth-century pilgrims, we get from it some important suggestions. +For one thing it tells us that we may have some rugged pieces of road +before we get to the end of our life-journey. If not, what need would +there be for iron shoes? If the way is to be flower-strewn, velvet +slippers, as Dr. McLaren somewhere suggests, would do. No man wants +iron-soled shoes for a walk through a soft meadow. The journey is not +likely to be all easy. Indeed, an earnest Christian life is never +easy. No one can live nobly and worthily without struggle, battle, +self-denial. One may find easy ways, but they are not the worthiest +ways. They do not lead upward to the noblest things. One reason why +many people never grasp the visions of beauty and splendor which shine +before them in early years is because they have not courage for rough +climbing. + + "I reach a duty, yet I do it not, + And, therefore, climb no higher; but if done, + My view is brightened, and another spot + Seen on my mortal sun; + For be the duty high as angel's flight-- + Fulfil it, and a higher will arise + Even from its ashes. Duty is our ladder to the skies, + And climbing not, we fall." + + +We shall need our iron shoes if we are to make the journey that leads +upward to the best possibilities of our life. + +But the word is not merely a prophecy of rugged paths; it is also a +promise of shoeing for the road, whatever it may be. One who is +preparing to climb a mountain, craggy and precipitous, would not put on +silk slippers; he would get strong, tough shoes, with heavy nails in +the soles. When God sends us on a journey over steep and flinty paths +he will not fail to provide us with suitable shoes. + +Asher's portion was not an accidental one; it was of God's choosing. +Nor is there any accident in the ordering of the place, the conditions, +the circumstances, of any child of God's. Our times are in God's +hands. No doubt, then, the hardnesses and difficulties of any one's +lot are part of the divine ordering for the best growth of the person's +life. + +There was a compensation in Asher's rough portion. His rugged hills +had iron in them. This law of compensation runs through all God's +distribution of gifts. In the animal world there is a wonderful +harmony, often noted, between the creatures and the circumstances and +conditions amid which they are placed. The same law rules in the +providence of human life. One man's farm is hilly and hard to till, +but deep down beneath its ruggedness, buried away in its rocks, there +are rich minerals. One person's lot in life is hard, with peculiar +obstacles, difficulties and trials; but hidden in it there are +compensations of some kind. One young man is reared in affluence and +luxury. He never experiences want or self-denial, never has to +struggle with obstacles or adverse circumstances. Another is reared in +poverty and has to toil and suffer privation. The latter seems to have +scarcely an equal chance in life. But we all know where the +compensation lies in this case. It is in such circumstances that grand +manhood is grown, while too often the petted, pampered sons of luxury +come to nothing. In the rugged hills of toil and hardship, life's +finest gold is found. + +There are few things from which young people of wealthy families suffer +more than from over-help. No noble-spirited young man wants life made +too easy for him by the toil of others. What he desires is an +opportunity to work for himself. There are some things no other one +can give us; we must get them for ourselves. Our bodies must grow +through our own exertions. Our minds must be disciplined through our +own study. Our hearts' powers must be developed and trained through +our own loving and doing. One writes of two friends and two ways of +showing friendship:-- + + "One brought a crystal goblet overfull + Of water he had dipped from flowing streams + That rose afar where I had never trod-- + Too far for even my quickened eye to see. + They were fair heights, familiar to his feet-- + They were cool springs that greeted him at morn, + And made him fresh when noon was burning high, + And sang to him when all the stars were out; + His hand had led them forth, and their pure life + Was husbanded, with sacred thrift, for flower, + And bird, and beast, and man. The hills were his, + And his the bright, sweet water. Not to me + Came its renewal. I was still athirst. + + "The other looked upon me graciously, + Beheld me wasted with my bitter need, + And gave me--nothing. With a face severe, + And prophet brow, he bade me quickly seek + My own hard quarry--there hew out a way + For the imprisoned waters to flow forth + Unhindered by the stubborn granite blocks + That shut them in dark channels. I sprung up, + For that I knew my Master; and I smote, + Even as Moses, my gray, barren rock, + And found sufficient help for all my house, + All my servants, all my flocks and herds." + + +The best friend we can have is the one, not who digs out the treasure +for us, but who teaches and inspires us with our own hands to open the +rocks and find the treasures for ourselves. The digging out of the +iron will do us more good than even the iron itself when it is dug out. + +Shoes of iron are promised only to those who are to have rugged roads, +not to those whose path lies amid the flowers. There is a comforting +suggestion here for all who find peculiar hardness in their life. +Peculiar favor is pledged to them. God will provide for the ruggedness +of their way. They will have a divine blessing which would not be +theirs but for the roughness and ruggedness. The Hebrew parallelism +gives the same promise, without figure, in the remaining words of the +same verse: "As thy days so shall thy strength be." Be sure, if your +path is rougher than mine, you will get more help than I will. There +is a most delicate connection between earth's needs and heaven's grace. +Days of struggle get more grace than calm, quiet days. When night +comes stars shine out which never would have appeared had not the sun +gone down. Sorrow draws comfort that never would have come in joy. +For the rough roads there are iron shoes. + +There is yet another suggestion in this old-time promise. The divine +blessing for every experience is folded up in the experience itself, +and will not be received in advance. The iron shoes would not be given +until the rough roads were reached. There was no need for them until +then, and besides, the iron to make them was treasured in the rugged +hills and could not be gotten until the hills were reached. + +A great many people worry about the future. They vex themselves by +anxious questioning as to how they are going to get through certain +anticipated experiences. We had better learn once for all that there +are in the Bible no promises of provision for needs while the needs are +yet future. God does not put strength into our arms to-day for the +battles of to-morrow; but when the conflict is actually upon us, the +strength comes. "As thy days so shall thy strength be." + +Some people are forever unwisely testing themselves by questions like +these: "Could I endure sore bereavement? Have I grace enough to bow in +submission to God, if he were to take away my dearest treasure? Or +could I meet death without fear?" Such questions are unwise, because +there is no promise of grace to meet trial when there is no trial to be +met. There is no assurance of strength to bear great burdens when +there are no great burdens to be borne. Help to endure temptation is +not promised when there are no temptations to be endured. Grace for +dying is nowhere promised while death is yet far off and while one's +duty is to live. + + "Of all the tender guards which Jesus drew + About our frail humanity, to stay + The pressure and the jostle that alway + Are ready to disturb, what'er we do, + And mar the work our hands would carry through, + None more than this environs us each day + With kindly wardenship--'Therefore, I say, + Take no thought for the morrow.' Yet we pay + The wisdom scanty heed, and impotent + To bear the burden of the imperious Now, + Assume, the future's exigence unsent. + God grants no overplus of power: 'tis shed + Like morning manna. Yet we dare to bow + And ask, 'Give us to-day our _morrow's_ bread.'" + + +There is a story of shipwreck which yields an illustration that comes +in just here. Crew and passengers had to leave the broken vessel and +take to the boats. The sea was rough, and great care in rowing and +steering was necessary in order to guard the heavily-laden boats, not +from the ordinary waves, which they rode over easily, but from the +great cross-seas. Night was approaching, and the hearts of all sank as +they asked what they should do in the darkness when they would no +longer be able to see these terrible waves. To their great joy, +however, when it grew dark they discovered that they were in +phosphorescent waters and that each dangerous wave rolled up crested +with light which made it as clearly visible as if it were mid-day. + +So it is that life's dreaded experiences, when we meet them, carry in +themselves the light which takes away the peril and the terror. The +night of sorrow comes with its own lamp of comfort. The hour of +weakness brings its own secret of strength. By the brink of the bitter +fountain itself grows the tree whose branch will heal the waters. The +wilderness with its hunger and no harvest has daily manna. In dark +Gethsemane, where the load is more than mortal heart can bear, an angel +appears, ministering strength that gives victory. When we come to the +hard, rough, steep path we find iron for shoes. The iron will be in +the very hills over which we shall have to climb. + +So we see that the matter of shoes is very important. We are pilgrims +here and we cannot walk barefoot on this world's rugged roads. Are our +feet shod for the journey? + +"How can I get shoes, and where?" one asks. Do you remember about +Christ's feet, that they were pierced with nails? Why was it? That we +might have shoes to wear on our feet, and that they might not be cut +and torn on the way. + +Christ's dear feet were wounded and sore with long journeys over thorns +and stones, and were pierced through with cruel nails, that our feet +might be shod for earth's rough roads, and might at last enter the +gates of pearl and walk on heaven's gold-paved streets. + +Dropping all figure, the whole lesson is that we cannot get along on +our life's pilgrimage without Christ; but having Christ we shall be +ready for anything that may come to us along the days and years. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THE SHUTTING OF DOORS. + + + "Never delay + To do the duty which the hour brings, + Whatever it be in great or smaller things; + For who doth know + What he shall do the coming day?" + + +The shutting of a door is a little thing and yet it may have infinite +meaning. It may fix a destiny for weal or for woe. When God shut the +door of the ark the sound of its closing was the knell of exclusion to +those who were without, but it was the token of security to the little +company of trusting ones who were within. When the door was shut upon +the bridegroom and his friends who had gone into the festal hall, thus +sheltering them from the night's darkness and danger, and shutting them +in with joy and gladness, there were those outside to whose hearts the +closing of that door smote despair and woe. To them it meant hopeless +exclusion from all the privileges of those who were within and exposure +to all the sufferings and perils from which those favored ones were +protected. + +Here we have hints of what may come from the closing of a door. Life +is full of illustrations. We are continually coming up to doors which +stand open for a little while and then are shut. An artist has tried +to teach this in a picture. Father Time is there with inverted +hour-glass. A young man is lying at his ease on a luxurious couch, +while beside him is a table spread with rich fruits and viands. +Passing by him toward an open door are certain figures which represent +opportunities; they come to invite the young man to nobleness, to +manliness, to usefulness, to worth. First is a rugged, sun-browned +form, carrying a flail. This is labor. He invites the youth to toil. +He has already passed far by unheeded. Next is a philosopher, with +open book, inviting the young man to thought and study, that he may +master the secrets in the mystic volume. But this opportunity, too, is +disregarded. The youth has no desire for learning. Close behind the +philosopher comes a woman with bowed form, carrying a child. Her dress +betokens widowhood and poverty. Her hand is stretched out appealingly. +She craves charity. Looking closely at the picture we see that the +young man holds money in his hand. But he is clasping it tightly, and +the poor widow's pleading is in vain. Still another figure passes, +endeavoring to lure and woo him from his idle ease. It is the form of +a beautiful woman, who seeks by love to awaken in him noble purposes, +worthy of his powers, and to inspire him for ambitious efforts. One by +one these opportunities have passed, with their calls and invitations, +only to be unheeded. At last he is arousing to seize them, but it is +too late; they are vanishing from sight and the door is closing. + +This is a true picture of what is going on all the time in this world. +Opportunities come to every young person, offering beautiful things, +rich blessings, brilliant hopes. Too often, however, these offers and +solicitations are rejected and one by one pass by, to return no more. +Door after door is shut, and at last men stand at the end of their +days, with beggared lives, having missed all that they might have +gotten of enrichment and good from the passing days. + +Take home. A true Christian home, with its love and prayer and all its +gentle influences, is almost heaven to a child. The fragrance of the +love of Christ fills all the household life. Holiness is in the very +atmosphere. The benedictions of affection make every day tender with +its impressiveness. In all life there come no other such opportunities +for receiving lovely things into the life, and learning beautiful +lessons, as in the days of childhood and youth that are spent in a home +of Christian love. Yet how often are all these influences resisted and +rejected. Then by and by the door is shut. The heart that made the +home is still in death. The gentle hand that wrought such blessing is +cold. Many a man in mid-life would give all he has to creep back for +one hour to the old sacred place, to hear again his mother's voice in +counsel or in prayer, to feel once more the gentle touch of her hand +and to have her sweet comfort. But it is too late. The door is shut. + +Take education. Many young people fail to realize what golden +opportunities come to them in their school-days. Too often they make +little of the privileges they then enjoy. They sometimes waste in +idleness the hours they ought to spend in diligent study and helpful +reading. They might, if they would, fit themselves for high and +honorable places in after years; but they let the days pass with their +opportunities. By and by they hear the school door shut. Then, all +through their years they move with halting step, with dwarfed life, +with powers undeveloped, unable to accept the higher places that might +have been theirs if they had been prepared for them, failing often in +duties and responsibilities--all because in youth they wasted their +school-days and did not seize the opportunities that then came to them +for preparation. Napoleon, when visiting his old school, said to the +pupils, "Boys, remember that every hour wasted at school means a chance +of misfortune in future life." Thousands of failures along the years +of manhood and womanhood attest the truth of this monition. + +Friendship is another opportunity that offers great blessing. Before +every young person stand two kinds of friends, ever reaching out a +beckoning hand. The one class whisper of pleasures that lead to sin +and debasement. They offer the young man the wine-glass, the +gambling-table, the gratification of lust and passion. They offer the +young woman flattery, gay dress, the dance, pleasures that will tarnish +her womanly purity. We all know the end of such friendship. + +But there is another class of friends who stand before young people, +wooing them to noble things. They may be plain, perhaps homely, almost +stern in their earnestness of purpose and in the seriousness with which +they talk of life. They call to toil, to diligence, to self-denial, to +heroic qualities of character, to purity, to usefulness, to "whatsoever +things are true, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are +honorable, whatsoever things are lovely." It is impossible to +overstate the value of the blessings that true, wise, and worthy +friendship offers to the young. It seeks to incite and stimulate them +to their best in character and achievement. It would lift them up to +lofty attainment, to splendid victoriousness. The young people to whom +comes the offer of such friendship are most highly favored. + +But how often do we see the blessing rejected for the solicitation of +mere idle pleasures that bring no true good, that entangle the life in +all manner of complications, that lead into the ways of temptation, and +that too often end in disaster and sorrow. + +There is a time for the choosing of friends, and when that time is +passed and the choice has been made, the door is shut. Then it is too +late to go back. There are many people in mid-life, bound now in the +chains of evil companionships, who would give all they have for the +sweet delights and pure pleasures of friendship which once might have +been theirs, which in youth reached out to them in vain white hands of +importunity and blessing. But it is too late; the door is shut. + +So it is with the opportunities of doing good to others, comforting, +helping, cheering, lightening burdens, giving gladness and joy. We +stand continually before open doors which we do not enter. Ofttimes we +shrink with timid feeling from the sweet ministry, holding back the +sympathetic word or restraining ourselves from the doing of the gentle +kindness, thinking our proffer of love might be unwelcome. Or we do +not perceive the opportunity to give a blessing. This is true very +often, especially in the closer and more tender intimacies of life. We +do not recognize the heart-hunger in our loved ones, and we walk with +them day by day, failing to help them in the thousand ways in which we +might help them, until they are gone from us and the door is shut. +Then all we can do is to bear the pain of regret, having only the hope +that in some way in the life beyond, we may be able to pay--though so +late--love's debt. + + "How will it be + When you at last in heaven we see-- + Dear souls, whose footsteps in lost days + Made musical earth's toil-worn ways, + While we not half the loneliness + That bound you to our side could guess? + Where angels know your footfall we + Are fain to be. + + "We never knew-- + So heedlessly we walked with you-- + The drops we jostled from your cup, + That spilt, could not be gathered up; + We might have given you foam and glow + From our own beaker's overflow; + Ah! what we might have been to you + We never knew. + + "We might have lent + Such strength, such comfort and content + To you, out of our ample store; + We might have hastened on before + To lift the shadows from your way, + Darkened, ere noon, to twilight's gray; + With earth's chilled air love's warm heart-scent + We might have blent. + + "Dear, wistful eyes, + Ye haunt us with your kind surprise, + Your tender wonder that a heart + Should thus be left alone, apart, + So loving, so misunderstood + By us, in our self-centred mood: + Alas! in vain to you arise + Our longing cries. + + "Oh, will you wait + For us beyond the shining gate? + Though lovely gifts behind you left, + We want yourselves; we are bereft. + From your new mansion glorious + Will you lean out to look for us? + Shut is the far-off, shining gate-- + Are we too late?" + + +These are but illustrations. The same is true in all phases of life. +Every day doors are opened for us which we do not enter. For a little +time they stand open with bidding and welcome, and then they are +closed, to be opened no more forever. To every one of us along our +years there come opportunities, which, if accepted and improved, would +fit us for worthy character, and for noble, useful living, and lead us +in due time to places of honor and blessing. But how many of us there +are who reject these opportunities and lose the good they brought for +us from God! Then one by one the doors are shut, cutting off the +proffered favors while we go on unblessed. + +There is another closing of doors which is even sadder than any of +those which have been suggested. There is a shutting of our own +heart's door upon God himself. He stands at our gate and knocks and +there are many who never open to him at all, and many more who open the +door but slightly. The latter, while they may receive blessing, yet +miss the fulness of divine revealing which would flood their souls with +love; the former miss altogether the sweetest benediction of life. + + "He that shuts Love out in turn shall be + Shut out from Love, and on his threshhold lie + Howling in outer darkness. Nor for this + Was common clay made from the common earth, + Moulded by God and tempered with the tears + Of angels to the perfect shape of man." + + +This sad sound of closing doors, as it falls day after day upon our +soul's ears, proclaims to us continually that something which was ours, +which was sent to us from God, and for which we shall have to answer in +judgment, is ours no longer, is shut away forever from our grasp. It +is a sad picture--the five virgins standing at midnight before a closed +door through which they might have entered to great joy and honor, but +which to all their wild importunity will open no more. It is sad, yet +many of us are likewise standing before closed doors, doors that once +stood open to us, but into which we entered not, languidly loitering +outside until the sound of the shutting fell upon our ear as the knell +of hopeless exclusion:-- + + "Too late! Too late! Ye cannot enter now!" + + +Of course the past is irreparable and irrevocable, and it may seem idle +to vex ourselves in thinking about doors now closed, that no tears, no +prayers, no loud knockings, can ever open again. Yes; yet the future +remains. The years that are gone we cannot get back again, but new +years are yet before us. They too will have their open doors. Shall +we not learn wisdom as we look back upon the irrevocable past and make +sure that in the future we shall not permit God's doors of opportunity +to shut in our faces? + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Making the Most of Life, by J. R. 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