IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

.//

io ,. %L<P

L^-

C/jL

1.0

I.I

11.25

fM IIIIIM

'.* ^ 1 2.2
«« 1112,0

14 1 1.6

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STRIET

WEBSTER, NY. MS80

(716) 872-4503

:0^

;(V

'i?)"

C/j

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHIVI/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproducticns historiques

Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques

The Institute has attempted to obtain the best
original copy available for filming. Features of this
copy which may be bibliographically unique,
which may alter any of the images in the
reproduction, or which may significantly change
the usual method of filming, are checked below.

Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur

I I Covers damaged/

Couverture endommagde

Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaurde et/ou pellicul6e

Cover title missing/
Le titre de couve

I I Coloured maps/

I I Le titre de couverture manque

Coloured maps/

Cartes gdographiques en couleur

Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)

I I Coloured plates and/or illustrations/

Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Bound with other material/
Relii avec d'autres documents

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

La reliure serr^e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distortion le long de la marge intdrieure

Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajouties
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte,
mais, lorsque cela Atait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas 6t6 filmtes.

Additional comments:/
Commentaires suppldmentaires;

L'ln«*!tut a microfilm* le meilleur exemplaire
qu'il lui a it6 possible de se procurer. Les details
de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-Atre uniques du
point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier
une Image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dans la mithode normale de filmage
sont indiqu6s ci-dessous.

□ Coloured pages/
Pages de couleur

□ Pages damaged/
Pages endommag^es

I I Pages restored and/or laminated/

Pages ret taur6es et/ou pelliculies

Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/
Pages ddcolordes, tachet6es ou piqu6es

□ Pages detached/
Pages ddtachies

[""VShowthrough/
Lk—I Transparence

I I Quality of print varies/

Quality indgale de I'impression

Includes supplementary material/
Comprend du materiel suppldmentaire

Only edition available/
Seule Edition disponible

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc.. have been refilmed to
ensure the best possible image/
Les pages totalement ou partiellement
obscurcies pac un feuillet d'errata, une pelure,
etc., ont M filmies A nouveau de fapon d
obtenir la meilleure image possible.

JY
to

P<
of
fil

Oi
b(
th
si<
ol
fil
sii

Tl
w

M
di
er
b(

"J
re
m

This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

Ce document est film* au taux de rMuction indiquA ci-dessous.

10X

14X

18X

22X

26X

30X

12X

16X

20X

24X

28X

32X

The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:

National Library of Canada

L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grSce h la
g6n6rosit6 de:

Bibliothdque nationale du Canada

The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in keeping with the
filming contract specifications.

Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le
plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et
de la nettet6 de l'exemplaire filmd, et en
conformitd avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol —^(meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or tk d symbol y (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprimde sont film6s en commenpant
par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la
dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second
plat, selon to cas. Tous les autres exemplaires
originaux sont filmds en commen^ant par la
premidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la dernidre page qui comporte une telle
entpreinte.

Un des symboles suivants apparattra sur la
dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbols — ► signifie "A SUIVRE ', le
symbols V signifie "FIN".

Maps, plates, charts, etc.. may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left io
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:

Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre
film6s d des taux de reduction diffdrents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre
reproduit en un seul clich6, il est f ilm6 d partir
de I'angle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite,
et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre
d'images nicessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
illustrent la mdthode.

€^

MAKING A LIFE

Rev. CORTLAND MYERS, D.D.

Minister at the Baptist Temple, Brooklyn, N. Y.

TORONTO

WILLIAM BRIGGS

Montreal: C. N. Coaxes Halifax: S. F. Huestis

THE BAKER AND TAYLOR COMPANY

ROBERT DRUMMOND, PRINTER, NHW YORK.

> .

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Life's Ideal

PACK
II

Life's Purpose

Life's Progress

III

Life's Mystery

Life's Influence

118

Life's Waste

144

Life's Law

VII

174

TABLH OF CONTENTS

■■■

VIII

Life's Pain

PAGH

200

Life's Environment

222

Life's Memory

247

Life's Conscience

276

Life's Destiny

XII .

300

MAKING A LIFE

LIFE'S IDEAL

It was written by the pen of inspiration con-
cerning one of the world's heroes that " he had an
excellent spirit in him." The printer blundered
with his type and made the record of his life to read
that "Daniel had an excellent 'spine' in him."
This was not a correct translation, but, unquestion-
ably, a statement of fact— a fact of supreme im-
portance. His biography reveals his unbending
devotion to the highest ideal. When this famous
young man went away from home to college in a
distant land, he fixed his goal and, in face of tem-
porary defeat and bitterest opposition, " he pur-
posed in his heart " to be true to that ideal even
at the cost of life itself. Duty was the emphatic
word in his vocabulary, and he would not defile its

LIFE'S IDEAL

purity with heathen custom or his own cowardice.
His ideal was his salvation. Its sanctity was the
temple in which he worshipped. It occupied the
throne of his life, and he was ever its obedient sub-
ject. He hearkened to its voice when desire and
flesh cried out against him. It was a circuitous
pathway to this ideal of life, and cut through cloud-
land, and forest, and darkness, but the light never
faded away, and the highest place in the realm was
for the weary traveller's reward. A noble purpose
is life's guarding, guiding angel. It alone can take
a man through a lion's den and lock their crimson
jaws. In one hand it holds safety, and in the othet
success. Daniel was king at last because his ideal
was king at first. A high ideal is the lever under
human life, and means the elevation of character.
He who is satisfied with his first effort, or his first
step, or his first attainment, never reaches emi-
nence. A righteous dissatisfaction is essential to
future achievement. A deeper longing precedes
every bolder attempt. Look higher if you would
live higher. An ideal is not something which is al-
ways hanging in the distant horizon like a rainbow
toward which the child runs with open hand to
grasp it only to find it always the same distance

LIFE'S IDEAL

away. The hilltop was no nearer to it than the
valley, and the climb was of no avail. It is the great-
est reality of life, and every hilltop brings us nearer
to its possession. One bright summer morning
the old iron horse was slowly but courageously
pushing his way up through the wild mountains of
the Pacific coast. Suddenly the travellers shouted in
a chorus of delight: "There's Shasta! There's
Shasta! " and the king of mountains on the western
continent raised his royal head above the hills and
the lower peaks and above the scattered, fleecy
clouds and swung his sparkling sceptre over the
kingdoms at his feet. The untrained eye looked
through that clear air and carried the message to
the w^aiting mind that the famous mountain was
distant about ten miles, but the skilled vision of
the conductor startled the company by declaring
that it was more than one hundred and fifty miles
away. He said: " You will be permitted to behold
its glory all the day. Have patience and a nearer
view will be given you." It was at the setting of
the sun when the train halted at the base of that
kingliest of mountains, and we beheld it in all its
glory. It is a winding, climbing, dangerous jour-
ney, but the day is filled with inspiration from the

LIFE'S IDEAL

.11

!^ i"

sight of the ideal, and at the sunset hour there will
be perfect vision, and rest, and satisfaction, and re-
ward.

Ideals are not creations of the brain or the de-
sire; they are real. They are not things manu-
factured by us; they are discovered. The great
musicians did not make their music; they found it.
The great artists did not make their pictures; they
revealed them. Edison did not make electricity; he
discovered its methods. It was not made of his ideals;
it, rather, made his ideals. Music is, art is, beauty is,
righteousness is, and the one man has come nearer
to them than the other, and he talks about them
to his fellow men, and, oftentmies, in an unknown
tongue. The great truths and ideals of life exist
and are the great realities of life, before some man
has entered into a closer fellowship with them than
other men. Watt, and Faraday, and Newton saw
but dimly at first, but their vision proved to be a
reality. To talk about the ideal is not to dream. It
depends upon the power and persistency of vision.
The imagination is the world's greatest explorer.
It has been the forerunner of every Columbus.
Shakespeare, and Wordsworth, and Tennyson, and
Isaiah, and all their company of nobility simply

LIFE'S IDEAL

drew aside the veil from realities. They attempted
to make us see vvhot they saw. The small man is
the one who only sees the present and considers
policy and expediency, but the great man is he
who sees the fundamental and eternal principles
and knows by sight and acquaintance, honesty, and
truth, and righteousness, and all their blood-rela-
tives. This marks the difference between men and
machines; between the artist and the automaton;
between drudgery and inspiration. All men are
stamped with the impress of their ideals. All
their efforts are controlled by its power. In
every department of life it is the supreme
reality; oftentimes unrecognized or considered
the possession of a dreamer, but never dropping
its sceptre. The ideal of the business man is the
mightiest factor in his life; not always sharply
defined, but always doing its work. The home is
beautified, not so much by drapery or furniture, as
by the artistic hand of the ideal. This is the only
salvation for most men from a life of drudgery, and
disappointment, and despair. Ideals are heavenly
messengers; they are the wings of the lark to save
the songster from the perils of the lowlands. As-
piration places bright garments upon poverty, and

LIFE'S IDEAL

reveals the blessing in the arms of toil. It snatches
manhood out of the snare and coils of discourage-
ment and hardship. It makes the music which the
unending buzz and rattle of machinery cannot si-
lence. It clears the atmosphere of dust and disease
and lets in the light and purity of the upper world.
The maiden looks through the struggles of her
daily task and hearkens for the footstep of a lover
and the sound of wedding bells, and watches for
the daybreak of hope's morning. The young man
faces the burdens of life and raises them to his
shoulder and dreams of his own home and his own
companion and better days.

Ideals are the stars which God places in the sky
of young manhood and womanhood, like the other
stars above the pathway of traveller and mariner.
The wise men who follow this light always reach
a Bethlehem. History furnishes unnumbered il-
lustrations of the world's greatest and best, being
led on to satisfaction and victory by this holy vision.
The masters in every part of the world, and in every
moment of time, have first been mastered by a
noble ideal. They stemmed the current, and
bridged the stream, and divided the waters while
other men were mere scraps of manhood on the

LIFE'S IDEAL

surface of the stream and moving with the current.
This is the inevitable result of a vulgar content-
ment. The upward impulse is the only salvation.
The soul's cry for something nobler and better is
the food for its growth and the foretelling of its
future and ultimate perfection.

A victorious ideal is not an occasional impulse,
or a momentary elevation, but a steady aim, and
a constant star, and a fixed compass. These
shadowy and fleeting thoughts and purposes are
like drops of dew on the grass-blade of the sum-
mer morning. They sparkle with diamond-like
brilliancy, and even reflect a world, but they are
evanescent. One breath of an opposing wind scat-
ters them, and all is lost. The valuable manhood
is that which transmutes and permanently trans-
forms these ideals into soul-life, and eternal char-
acter, and divinest man. He who has a worthy
ambition and courageously and wisely seeks it is
king.

This great power in life is lost by lack of definite-
ness or the presence of ignoble ambition, or
the result of pride and vanity, or the influence of
the temporal and material, or impatience, or the
want of a deathless determination. A single stroke

wmmm

HIUBBiBIHO*:

LIFE'S IDEAL

of the hammer, without the image in mind, might
shatter the statue. Mere pounding is ruinous. Aim
and object are essential. Definite purpose and
clearly bounded ideals must precede the work of
the chisel.

One of the most earnest of modern Gaelic poets,
Dugald Buchanan, was first led to think of serious
subjects by a cleverly turned phrase, uttered half
in jest. " What is your profession? " a pious High-
lander inquired of him. " As to that," replied
Buchanan, " I have none in particular. My mind
is very much like a sheet of white paper." " Then
take care that the devil does not write his name
upon it," said the other. The remark was the one
touch needed to turn the poet to more serious
thoughts and a more earnest way of life.

What is the ideal of your life? Art thou a wor-
shipper at the shrine of gold, or fame, or pleasure,
or the purely temporal elements of life? If thou
art, the muck-rake is in thy hand, and thou art in
the mud of the world, and blind to the angel above
thy head with a bright crown in his hand. With-
out a worthy ideal thou canst never bend thy neck
in the upward gaze, and reward is lost forever. Life

is a failure; thou hast missed the mark. Thou art

LIFE'S IDEAL

a slave to the passing and the perishing. The best
that is in thee is benumbed and paralyzed. Tell man
the objects of your search and he will pass judg-
ment upon the result of them, and the value of
your character. Life is below its possibility
and pressing on toward its condemnation. Fix
your goal, define your purpose, make the object
of all effort and sacrifice worthy of manhood and
immortality. Draw the boundary-line about your
ideal for human life. Fasten your eye upon it and
make it the greatest reality. Destiny is in the very
beginning of life and the earliest thought and plan.

A Swedish boy fell out of a window and was
badly hurt, but with pressed lips he kept back the
cry of pain. The king, Gustavus Adolphus, who saw
him fall, prophesied that the boy would make a
man for an emergency. And so he did, for he be-
came the famous General Bauer.

Failures and wrecks are all stamped with the lack
of high resolve. Good education, best training,
brightest opportunity, most perfect example, have
been rendered helpless without this leader. The
fountain rises only to the level of the stream.
Flabby resolution and low ideal are the creators
of weak character and low living. He who pur-

LIFE'S IDEAL

poses in his heart to maintain a high standard is
cHnibing toward an outlook of beauty and inspira-
tion. He orders not only present events, but is gen-
eral over the forces of the future. Misfortune and
disaster enter his life only to be defeated by a man
of iron, unswerved, even by a hair's breadth, from
his high resolve and bright ideal. Lincoln rose to
one of the thrones of the world by the quenchless
persistency of his ideal. " I have talked with great
men," he told his fellow clerk and friend Green,
" and I do not see how they differ from others. I
can be one of them." In order to keep in practice
in speaking he walked seven or eight miles to de-
bating clubs. " Practising Polemics," was what he
called his exercise. He questioned the school-
master concerning the advisability of studying
grammar. " If you are going before the public,"
said his counsellor, " you ought to do it." How
could he get a grammar? There was but one in the
neighborhood, and that was six miles away. With-
out waiting further information he walked immedi-
ately to the place, borrowed this rare book, and be-
fore night was buried in its mystery. Every
moment of his leisure, during the hours of day and
night, for many weeks, he gave to the study of that

4
I

LIFE'S IDEAL

book. Lincoln's eagerness to learn became known
and awakened interest. Books were loaned him, and
his friends assisted him, and even the village cooper
allowed him to come into his shop and keep up a
fire of shavings sufficiently bright to read by at
night. When he had finished the study of his gram-
mar he said, " Well, if that's what they call science,
I think I will go at another." He had learned the
way to conquer subjects and circumstances. His
ideal was becoming brighter and clearer and more
powerful as he moved on heroically toward it. It
came and stood over the President's chair, and he
followed it, step by step, with patience and deter-
mination at either side of him, until he sat upon the
nation's throne, crowned beneath his life's star.

" September, 1856, made a new era in my life,"
said George Eliot, " for it was then I began to write
fiction. It had always been a vague dream of mine
that, some time or other, I might write a novel;
and my shadowy conception of what the novel was
to be varied, of course, from one epoch of my life
to another, but I never went further toward the
actual writing of a novel than an introductory chap-
ter describing a Staffordshire village and the life
of the neighboring farm-houses, and as the years

LIFE'S IDEAL

passed on I lost hope that I should ever be able to
write a novel, just as I desponded about everything
else in my future. I always thought I was deficient
in dramatic power, but I felt I should be at my ease
in the descriptive part of a novel. One morning,
as I was thinking what should be the subject of my
first sketch, my thoughts merged themselves into
a dreamy doze and I imagined myself writing a
story, of which the title was " The Sad Fortunes of
the Rev. Amos Barton." The result was the now
famous " Scenes from Clerical Life," which
achieved an instant success almost as great as that
of * Waverley,' at its first appearance." It was the
defining and clarifying of that ideal which flickered,
but which she never allowed to go out, that made
her name so famous in the literary world.

Balzac lived in a garret-room on eleven cents a
day, and worked incessantly upon dram? s and
comedies, not one of which was accepted, save by
the rag-picker. He published a romance in his
thirtieth year, and became at once so famous that
publishers sought him on all sides.

" My own revenue," says Hume, " will be suf-
ficient for a man of letters."

" Perhaps," says Gibbon, " the mediocrity of my

LIFE'S IDEAL

,,K

fortune has contributed to fortify my application."
" If I had been born here " (in England), said
Montesquieu, ** nothing could have consoled mc
in failing to accumulate a large fortune; but I do
not lament the mediocrity of my circumstances in
France."

Poor Goldsmith, in distress, with his landlady
clamoring for her rent, sends out for Johnson; he
comes, and the great writer, in those circumstances,
— which have been immortalized by a picture, —
brings forth a story; Johnson reads it, perceives its
merit, rushes forth to sell it; the poor writer is re-
leased from his fear of ejection, and the world be-
gins to read the " Vicar of Wakefield."

" What made you plead with such intensity of
energy? " was asked of Erskine, after that plea
which brought the briefless barrister into notice.
" I felt my children tugging at my gown, and ask-
ing for bread," was his answer.

Some men have been so persuaded of the stimu-
lating effects of poverty that they have actually
sought it. Barry threw his money into the Lififey,
that he might dispose of temptations to ease and
luxury.

When a student was anticipating his first ap-

LIFE'S IDEAL

pearance in the intercollegiate games, a friend,
by way of encouragement, said: ** If you do not
get the gold medal, you may win the silver one."
The reply came quickly: " I never try for a second
prize!

God never intended the immortal soul to crouch
in bondage to worldliness, or ignoble ambitions, or
the baser things of life. It was given the power and
the liberty to soar and breathe the atmosphere of
the upper world and live in the skies. There is no
power sufficient to shackle a man's aspirations. He
can rise out of a dungeon, and above the fogs of
skepticism and mock at the chains of his enemy's
forging. The darkness may wrap itself about his
world, but borne aloft upon the wings of his ideals,
he pierces the gold of the sunbeam with his eagle-
eyed vision. The swallow circles above and close
to the flowers and grass of the meadow, but the
eagle lives on the crag and takes long voyages
among the cloud-islands of the skies and never
knows weariness. That is the birthright of every
man at every moment of his world's motion in the
universe of God.

" Would you like to know how I was enabled to
serve my country?" said Admiral Farragut. "It wa?

LIFE'S IDEAL

all owing to a resolution, an ideal I formed when
I was ten years of age. My father was sent down
to New Orleans, with the little navy we then had,
to look after the treason of Burr. I accompanied
him as cabin-boy. I had some qualities that, I
thought, made a man of me. I could swear like an
old salt; could drink as stifif a glass of grog as if I
had doubled Cape Horn, and could smoke like a
locomotive ; I was great at cards, and fond of
f^ambling in every shape. At the close of the din-
ner one day, my father turned everybody out of the
cabin, locked the door, and said to me: ** David,
what do you mean to be? " " I mean to follow the
sea." " Follow the sea! Yes, be a poor, miser-
able drunken sailor before the mast, kicked and
cuffed about the world, and die in some fever hos-
pital in a foreign clime." " No," I said, " I'll tread
the quarterdeck, and command, as you do." " No,
David, no boy ever trod the quarterdeck with such
principles as you have and such habits as you
exhibit. You will have to change your whole
course of life if you ever become a man."

My father left me and went on deck. I was
stunned by the rebuke and overwhelmed with mor-
tification. " A poor, miserable drunken sailor be-

LIFE'S IDEAL

fore the mast, kicked and cuffed about the world,
and to die in some fever hospital." '* That's my
fate, is it? I'll change my life and change it at
once. I will never utter another oath. I will never
drink another drop of intoxicating liquors. I will
never gamble. And as God is my witness, I have
kept those three vows to this hour." The cherish-
ing of such ambitions was his salvation, and gave
to America one of its brightest stars.

Frequently a false pride in ancestral blood, or
position, and an unworthy self-conceit, or ruinous
vanity has blasted highest ideals and closed the
gates of golden opportunity.

Chief Justice Chase was once riding on the cars
through Virginia, and they stopped at a little, in-
significant town, and they told him that Patrick
Henry was born there. He stepped out on the
platform and said: " Oh, what a magnificent scene!
What glorious mountains! What an atmosphere
this is! I don't wonder that a place like this gave
birth to a Patrick Henry." A rustic stood near
him and heard his remarks, and said: "Yes,
stranger, them mountains have been there ever
since I can recollect, and the atmosphere hasn't
changed much, and the scenery is about the same,

LIFE'S IDEAL

trick
the
ene!

)here
^ave
near
Yes,
ever
as n't
ame,

but I haven't seen any more Patrick Henrys lying
around here, that I can remember."

Environment and advantage give birth to pride,
but not to nobihty. Tlie one essential element to
success, and character, and influence is a worthy
purpose — is an ideal with a conscience in it. This
can be attained only by fidelity to toil in the un-
seen and minute performances of duty. We rise
upon what we wish to be by a constant effort. The
upward pathway is the result of past achievement.
The present is the cradle of the future. Loyalty to
the details of duty in the present sphere is essential
to coming reward and glory. The present demands,
heard, and righteously heeded, are the foundation-
stones for future architectural stability and beauty.
If this, which is elemental, be not carefully laid and
cemented, there will be crashing of the upper stories
and ruin of life's hope. Worthiness of greater ele-
vation depends entirely upon the perfection and
solidity of the under-work. Prove your claims to
higher position by completing the service in the
lower. All climbing is up a lofty and dangerous
mountain-side. There are curves and precipices
which make it impossible to return. To go back
is to fall. The only safety is on and up. Achieve-

LIFE'S IDEAL

V i

11^

iiicnt will never permit a man to rest. There is no
satisfaction, and no vacation, in accomplishment.
It creates yearning and anxiety. Aspiration forces
effort and upward movement until the summit is
reached and the companionship of the victors and
hosts angelic tell us we arc upon the heights of
heaven. The purely temporal, and material, and
worldly are too low for inspiration. They are the
destroyers of ideals and worthy ambitions. They
leave the upper stories all unused, with dust
and cobweb to cover the windows and destroy the
outlook. The spiritual is man's glory. The lion is
stronger than he; the eagle is swifter than he; the
bee equals his genius for building; but he surpasses
all creation in his reason, and imagination, and
moral sentiment, and power of framing and securing
his ideals. A mine is not man's riches; a store is
not man's world. The skill of a mechanic and the
success of a merchant are not sufficient for high liv-
ing. This is bankruptcy. Low ideals in the mind
will not support a lofty character. The model must
be in the eye before the artist paints or carves skil-
fully. The greatest controlling force in life is the
ideal of life. It cannot be hid. It will come out in
the very face of Judas, or in the face of John. This

LIFE'S IDEAL

is the written and indelible lanj^uage of every deed.
It is the mark of direction which reveals the way
we are going^.

" A man may play the fool in the drifts of the
desert," says Emerson, " but every grain of sand
shall seem to see. He may be a solitary eater, but
he cannot keep his foolish counsel. A broken com-
plexion, a swinish look, ungenerous acts, and the
want of due knowledge, — all blab. Can a cook, a
Chiffinch, an lachimo be mistaken for Zeno or
Paul? Confucius exclaimed: ' How can a man be
concealed! How can a man be concealed!'

*' On the other hand, the hero fears not that, if
he withhold the avowal of a just and brave act, it
will go unwitnessed and unloved. One knows it
himself, — and is pledged by it to sweetness of peace
and to nobility of aim, which will prove, in the end,
a better proclamation of it than the relating of the
incident."

To always keep before the eye of the soul the
highest ideal calls for one of the sternest struggles.
In this is the only redemption of life from the low
and the common, the earthly and the unreal.
Tiberius lived in a most luxurious age, and a most
luxurious city, and a most luxurious palace. The

LIFE'S IDEAL

;

■ i

I i

wealth of the world was his. He was acquainted
with all of the world pleasures. His wishes
were transformed instantly into realities. His mar-
ble palace stood in the world's most beautiful en-
vironment of climate, and flowers, and fruit, and the
material riches of earth, but his luxury and his
gratified desires made him a most miserable spec-
imen of humanity. His very manner of life was the
murderer of true royalty and nobility. In a letter,
written to the Conscript Fathers, he gives utterance
to perhaps the most dismal wail that ever escaped
a human heart. " What to write you. Conscript
Fathers, or what not to write, may the gods and
goddesses consume me, more than they eternally
do, if I know." Miserable man ! No wonder,
though you take your place in the niche of history
as " Tristissimus hominum."

Ideals are the knights to destroy the low and
animal remnants in every man. They smite the sor-
did and mean with a death blow. The disappoint-
ments and failures have made most men to accept
something lower than the purpose and plan of the
morning hour of life. The noon-day heat has made
them faint and ready to give up, and, therefore, they
accepted the less and contented themselves with the

LIFE'S IDEAL

■i

half-way station up the mountain-side and never
stood above the clouds. Ideals are not evanescent
beauty upon life's clouds. They are the realities
of which the bright coloring is the symbol. They
are that for wliich the bow circles the darkness.
They are the promises of God. An ideal is not
an air-castle. The one has existence only in a
dream; the other is a part of real life. The one
lulls a man to sleep; the other awakens him to
earnest and crowning activity. It is fhe indolent
man's dream to sing of the mighty deeds he is going
to do, and the vast mines of wealth he is to possess,
and the great influence he is destined to wield, and
the whole calendar of summer days without a with-
ered leaf of autumn-time or snow-flake in the sky.
That is an air-castle and floats away in the mist and
haze without foundation in principle, or anchorage
in reason. Life's ideal must be wedded to tireless
and deathless energy. The future holds only rub-
bish in its hands for the man who attempts, by un-
lighteous divorce, to separate these two. It is the
holiest matrimony. They say that man is the archi-
tect of his own destiny, but a builder is quite as
essential as an architect. Real living is building
upon actual conditions and according to divine

^ifmimmmimmm

LIFE'S IDEAL

j!i

plans. Life is in the present but for the future.
Shape the ideal out of the actual. Condition does
not change only as the accomplishment of the pur-
pose changes it. It is the small and passing word,
and act, and thought, which are the threads of gold
in the pattern of life, and in the perfect fabric. Each
day has its proportion, or the development is
neither harmonious nor stable. What we will do is
prophesied in what we do. The victory for the
ideal depends upon the blood which enters into the
real. To-morrow is indissolubly connected with to-
day. Living up to the fulness of to-day's possibili-
ties is the only road to the king's palace. Dreams
can be made realities; air-castles changed into
fortresses; and life's ideals certain of attainment by
a living resolution to make the most of the present
moment. It is an easy task to make declaration
concerning what we will do or what we would do
after every " if." The indicative mood is better in
the sentence of life. It is a weakness itself to con-
tinually say " If I were." It is monarch-like to say
" I am," " I do." You may never have a million
dollars, but one-millionth part of that vast sum car-
ries with it the same tremendous possibility and
responsibility. What a man does with Jhe dollar

LIFE'S IDEAL

-^it'-

he will do with the million. What he does with \' Ty^
one moment of time he will do with a year. What
he does with one book he will do with a library.
What he does with small opportunity he will do
with the larger. What he does in ordinary life, he
will do in the moment when he declared he would
reveal startling courage and heroism. Our safety
is only in having high purpose and clear vision and
incessant toil toward their realization. Every man,
necessarily, and by a law as rigid as the law of
gravitation, goes toward his ideal and in propor-
tion to his activity and energy. The golden steps
in the stairway to every throne are made out of the
pure metal of earnestness, and energy, and grit, and
determination, and conquered failures. Highest
elevations are reached by treading upon the dead
past. Victory has often been won out of the very
jaws of defeat. Mistakes should be only teachers
in life's school to spur us on.

WhenBeecherwasan under-graduate he went out
to a neighborhood schoolhouse to conduct a prayer
service. When he attempted to speak his thoughts
took wings and deserted him, and his speaking was
a failure. This aroused him, he determined to over-
come his embarrassment, and won. The first ap-

LIFE'S IDEAL

pearance of Disraeli as a speaker in the House of
Commons was a dismal failure. Loud laughter
greeted every sentence. But his closing word was
a prophecy: " I have begun several times many
things; and have succeeded in them at last. I shall
sit down now, but the time will come when you
shall hear me." And it soon appeared.

" When you get into a tight place," says Harriet
Beecher Stowe, " and everything goes against you,
till it seems as if you could not hold on a minute
longer, never give up then, for that is just the place
and time that the tide will turn."

A phrenologist, examining the head of the Duke
of Wellington, said: " Your grace has not the organ
of animal courage fully developed." " You are
right," replied the great man: "and, but for my
sense of duty, I should have retreated in my first
fight." The Duke of Wellington saw a soldier turn
pale as he marched up to a battery. " That is a
brave man," said he; " he knows his danger, and
faces it." That is grit as I understand it.

After the defeat at Essling, the success of
Napoleon's attempt to withdraw his beaten army
depended on the character of Massena, to whom
the emperor dispatched a messenger, telling him to

LIFE'S IDEAL

keep his position for two hours longer at Aspen.
This order, couched in the form of a request, re-
quired almost an impossibility. But Napoleon
knew the indomitable tenacity of the man to whom
he gave it. The messenger found Messena seated
on a heap of rubbish, his eyes bloodshot, his frame
weakened by his unparalleled exertions during a
contest of forty hours, and his whole appearance
indicating a physical state better befitting the hos-
pital than the field. But that steadfast soul seemed
altogether unaffected by bodily prostration. Half
dead as he was with fatigue, he rose painfully and
said: "Tell the Emperor that I will hold out for
two hours." And he kept his word. " Never
despair," says Burke, " but if you do, work on in
despair."

You see John Knox preaching the coronation
sermon of James VI., and arraigning Queen Mary
and Lord Darnley in a public discourse at Edin-
burgh, and telling the French ambassador to go
home and call his king a murderer; John Knox
making all Christendom feel his moral power, and
at his burial the Earl of Morton saying: " Here
lieth a man who in his life never feared the face of
man." Where did John Knox get much of his

ifT

LIFE'S IDEAL

schooling for such resounding and everlasting
achievement? He got it while in chains pulling
at the boat's oar in French captivity. Michael
Faraday, one of the greatest in the scientific world,
did not begin by lecturing in the university. He
began by washing bottles in the experimenting-
room of Humphrey Davy. " Hohenlinden," the
immortal poem of Thomas Campbell, was first re-
jected by a newspaper editor, and in the notes to
correspondents appeared the words: "To T. C.

The lines commencing, * On Linden when the

sun was low,' are not up to our standard. Poetry
is not T. C.'s foite."

Frederick Douglass made a visit to his birth-
place in Talbot County, Md., for the purpose of
purchasing a beautiful villa, and in a talk to a col-
ored school said: " I once knew a little colored boy
whose mother and father died when he was but six
years old. He was a slave, and no one to care for
for him. He slept on a dirt floor in a hovel, and
in cold weather would crawl into a meal-bag head
foremost and leave his feet in the ashes to keep him
wir/ai. Often he would roast an ear of corn and
e.'i*- '• TO satisfy his hunger, and many times has he
crav'or' under the barn or stable and secured eggs,

LIFE'S IDEAL

oy
six

or
nd
ad
im
Ind
he
s,

which he would roast in the fire and eat. That boy
did not wear pants Hke you do, but a tow-linen
shirt. Schools were unknown to him, and he
learned to spell from an old Webster spelling-book
and to read and write from posters on cellar and
barn doors, while boys and men would help him.
He would then preach and speak, and soon became
well known. He became presidential elector,
United States marshal, United States recorder.
United States diplomat, and accumulated some
wealth. He wore broadcloth and didn't have to
divide crumbs with the dogs under the table. That
boy was Frederick Douglass. What was possible
for me is possible for you. Don't think because you
are colored you can't accomplish anything. Strive
earnestly to add to your knowledge. So long as
you remain in ignorance so long you will fail to
command the respect of your fellow men."
/"Always look^u£, but njeyer give^j^ God is ever
lovingly whispering to man, fix your goal and " My
grace is sufficient for thee." The highest ideal is
touched by the Eternal, and bears the name of
character. The perfect pattern and only worthy
ideal for humankind is the Christ. He alone pos-
sesses the mystery of the highest ideal and thg

LIFE'S IDEAL

S !

power to attain it. There is a spiritual hunger
which makes every mortal gravitate toward him.
Before the needle of the compass is magnetized it
lies in any position, but when thrilled and electrified
by the magnetic force, it points forever in the one
direction. So the low and aimless life, when
touched by the spirit of Christ, invariably and
eternally points in the one direction. To be like
Christ is the great circle which sweeps every other
ideal and ambition within its circumference. As
Shakespeare reveals an ideal for the young poet,
and Raphael unveils the future for the young artist,
so Jesus Christ stands out unique and alone as the
ideal for human character.

David Livingston first saw Christ and longed to
be like Him before he was crucified in the darkness
of Africa. In obedience to his holy vision he liter-
ally placed a cross upon the dark continent. He
journeyed north into the depths of heathenism; he
then came back part of the distance and fell upon
his knees to pray for Africa; he then went directly
east to the coast and came back to fall again upon
his knees in the same place and pray for Africa; he
then forced his way directly westward to the coast
and again returned to the same centre to fall upon

LIFE'S IDEAL

his knees and pray for Africa. On this cross he
lay and cried from the depths of his soul in obedi-
ence to the most sacred ideal of life, ** God bless all
men who, in any way, help to heal this open sore
of the world. God save Africa." With that sancti-
fied prayer upon his lips they found him upon his
knees in death. His heathen friends lovingly car-
ried his body through jungle and forest to the wait-
ing vessel which brought him to the shores of Eng-
land and placed him in Westminster Abbey, where
his name is carved high among the world's noblest
and best, and angel hands placed one of the bright-
est crowns upon his royal brow.

The pathway to the highest glory on earth or in
heaven is obedience to the ideal in the life and sacri-
fice of the world's Redeemer.

)n
le
list
)n

Everything cries out to us that we must renounce. Thou
must go without ; go without/ That is the everlasting song
which every hour of our life through, hoarsely sings to us.
Die, and come to life, for so long as this is not accomplished
ihou art but a troubled guest upon an earth of gloom. —
Goethe.

// is when we renounce that, life {properly speaking)
can be said to begin. In a valiant suffering for others, not
in a slothful making others suffer for us, did nobleness ever
lie, — Carlyle.

fi ''

What will ye give me ? — Judas.
For me to live is Christ. — Paul.

LIFE'S PURPOSE

" Is life worth living? " It depends altogether
upon the object of your life. Your definition of
life precedes the answer to that familiar question.
Here is a man who carried the sentence upon his
lips, " What will ye give me? " That was the con-
trolling motive of his life. It took the strength out
of his arm, the firmness out of his foot, the light-
ning out of his eye, and the sweetness out of his
heart.

Judas was the child of magnificent possibilities;
beneath his hand lay golden opportunities, but he'
scorned the true riches for the tinsel, and awakened
to the tragedy of his blunder when it was too late.
It was his privilege to be where every Christian
would like to have been. How we have rejoiced
even in the thought of what it must have been to
be m the companionship of the Christ for those
three wonderful years! It was his to look into the

LIFE'S PURPOSE

face of Jesus, to grasp His hand of love, to listen
to His marvellous words, and to see the smile of
His heavenly joy. He witnessed the constant reve-
lation of His divinity in His humanity. He received
that unadulterated love, and heard that holiest
prayer, and knew that sublimest purpose. This was
the man who had dined with Christ, and rested with
Him, and walked with Him. He saw Him touch
the lame man's foot, the palsied man's hand, the
blind man's eye, and the deaf man's ear. He had
even been at the side of the dead man when Jesus
spoke the words of life. The statement is almost
too bold for belief that he is the same man who
walked into the presence of the enemies of his best
Friend, and the world's noblest character, and said,
with a miser's spirit and a coward's attitude,
" What will ye give me? " Money was the most
sacred thing in the world. He had forgotten
heaven, and was only familiar with the vocabulary
of the market, " How much? " That was the most
important part of life. At that altar he had wor-
shipped so long and so reverently that even the
Son of God had to take a second place when the
critical testing hour came. If that is all there is

to life, then the rope is a good thing for Judas to
• 42

LIFE'S PURPOSE

carry in one hand while he holds his money in the
other. The Son of God was always right, and from
the heights of His own vision and sacrifice, He
made no mistake when He turned toward the be-
trayer and said, " Better for that man had he never
been born." It is better not to have lived than
to live a mean, low, selfish life. Dust, earth, and
ashes may be the composition of existence, but not
of life. They have meaning in the last ceremony
when they fall on the casket of a Judas.

" Life is real, life is earnest,

And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul."

Here is another man who had not known the
riches of personal association with the world's
Saviour. He had in the irreligiousness of his re-
ligion held the coat as Stephen manifested the same
spirit as his divine Master while the Jews were
killing Him. Now he is on the way to mingle more
Christian blood with the dust of earth. Heaven in-
terferes. That one look at Jesus was enough. From
that hour he says he began to live. He reached the
summit of human life when he said, ** For me to
live is Christ." He declared that all the past, up

LIFE'S PURPOSE

to that hour on the Damascus road, was not a part
of his life. He first began to live when he began
to say, " For me to live is Christ." He braved
every danger and persecution, and even death itself,
in the strength of that mighty impulse. He lost
his old self and all its fear and desire for riches, or
position, or ease. That miraculous and mysterious
transformation was a definite experience and an
unquestioned reality. Christ had suddenly come
into his life as its author, its preserver, its sancti-
fier, and its eternity. Everything was changed,
even his name. The Christ of Bethlehem and Naz-
areth and Gethsemane and Calvary was all in all.
The difference between Judas and Paul is the differ-
ence between "How much?" and "To live is
Christ." The one sold Christ, and the other lived
Him. The one died the death of a traitor and
twisted his own rope; the other died the death of
a martyr, and angels twined laurels for his kingly
brow. The difiference between the two lives is the
difference between every great and small life, be-
tween every man who has visions from a mountain-
top and every man in a valley. This is not mere
history; it is present-day reality. We are not far
removed from this startling contrast in human life.

LIFE'S PURPOSE

The principles remain even if the words on the
page change. Names in the sentence may change
from Judas to James, but the elemental laws of the
world never change. There will always be the
same wide chasm between " Making a living " and
" Making a life." Making a living is the small,
time-serving, dwarfed and paralyzed man's object.
Making a life is the kingly, immortal, character-
worshipping man's object. The one lives in the
narrow, prison-limited circle of self, and the other
in a world which is bounded only when infinity
and eternity have limits. There is no circumfer-
ence to the life lived outside of self. Mere making
a living only touches the crust of existence and
makes the most successful man cry out, " Vanity
of vanities, all is vanity." Making a life is the pri-
mary and the essential. Better for Judas had he
never been born, than to buy bread with his thirty
pieces of silver. Making a living depends upon
temporal circumstances. Making a life rests upon
eternal principles. Making a life does not depend
upon riches, or fame, or health, or anything except
a holy principle and an undying purpose. Every
man comes within the sweep of this radiant possi-
bility.

LIFE'S PURPOSE

'■,s

Making a life is to live outside of self. Why did
Carlyle callRuskin "The reerthat guides his gener-
ation? " Where did he worthily secure such praise?
Ruskin was the child of genius. Fortune had been
lavish with him. He inherited and earned a vast
amount of money. He became a literary star when
only twenty-one years of age — a star of almost first
magnitude. Every pathway was brilliantly I'ghted
for his feet, and every door was opened for his en-
trance, and every honor was ready for his posses-
sion. He saw further than other men, and could
lead the host. He turned away from this golden
path to forget himself and to live in the lives of
others. He was willing to walk on Whitechapel
Road and breathe the air of the poverty-stricken
districts of London; to behold the intense suffering
of the overworked and underpaid men, women,
and children. He saw their brains reel, and bodies
weaken, and hearts faint beneath the tremendous
burdens of life. He saw enfeebled and disease-rid-
den children born from such ancestry into a world
of darkness. He looked at the scene so sympa-
thetically and so continuously that the city of Lon-
don seemed to him to turn into a gigantic ceme-
tery, and hospital, and prison, and asylum. He

LIFE'S PURPOSE

possessed more than a million of money, but that
was not his life. He cried not, " How much can
I get out of this human blood? " but, " How much
can I give for its purification and redemption? "
He gave one-tenth, then one-third, then one-half,
and at last his whole fortune, in sublimest sacri-
fice. He lived with the poor and for them. He
formed clubs and schools, and brightened their
lives with new ideas and new opportunities. He
broke their shackles and set them free. He enlisted
other men, and his own art- students, in this divine
service. His life was literally laid upon another
cross, but he lives among the immortals, and won
a triumphant victory through the operation of the
sublimest principles in human life.

A man finds heaven in an act of sacrifice, even
if death ends all. Goodness is self-rewarding.
Heaven is in the action itself. The slightest act for
others carries its own blessing to the heart that
lives outside of itself. It has in it the sweetness
of life, but it is also a grain of mustard-seed which
carries a .hundred-fold and an eternal harvest. It
is the supremest folly and basest philosophy which
says, " Eat it up, consume it, for to-morrow we
die." Be happy now. Begin your heaven; do not

LIFE'S PURPOSE

[)

wait for some far-off distant land. Drink in this
sunshine; it is part of the upper world. Selfishness
is the cause of your trouble and your sadness. It
gathers every cloud in one place and forces them
to meet in a terrific thunder-storm. Banish selfish-
ness, and you drive away clouds, and darkness, and
ghostly noises.

When Carlyle placed that bright crown upon the
I brow of Ruskin, he had written, " Oh, it is great,
and there is no other greatness — to make one nook
of God's creation more fruitful, better, more worthy
of God; to make some human heart a little wiser,
manlier, happier, more blessed, less accursed."

Some one has said, " What youth who has a par-
ticle of ambition or self-respect would not hang
his head in shame for his useless, aimless, shiftless
life, after reading the story of such men as Arthur
Kavanaugh, who, although born without arms or
legs, yet lifted himself, by an inborn determination
that he would rise to distinction and honor? His
life was a wonderful lesson for American youth
who feel that they have no chance, merely because
they are obscure and poor. His success shows that
there is scarcely any difficulty, impediment, or de-

]

;

LIFE'S PURPOSE

formity which downright hard work and manly
grit may not overcome.

The armless and legless youth was determined
to show the world that he could do almost any-
thmg that anybody else could do, in spite of his
frightful deformity. He learned to shoot well, was
a skilful sailor and fisherman, and was considered
one of the best horseback riders in Ireland He
also wrote well, holding his pen in his teeth, as he
also did his bridle when he rode. He was a great
hunter, and gained quite a reputation in India for
his hunting exploits with tigers and other wild
beasts.

What folly, audacity, and presumption for a
youth with neither arms nor legs to attempt to
get mto Parliament. Of course everybody laughed
at him, everybody said it was ridiculous, but he
knew better. He knew that determination, untir-
.ng mdustry, and grit can accomplish almost any-
thing in the world. His ambition was gratified
and Arthur Kavanaugh gained a seat in the House
of Commons.

The world ought to bow before such heroism
and tnumph. But that of itself is not the best of
"te. As Ruskm's money was not Raskin's life, so

LIFE'S PURPOSE

Jfl

Xavanaugh's position was not Kavanaugh's life.
To live is not only to get into Parliament, but to
be a Gladstone or a Shaftesbury in the sacrifice of
self for the sake of human rights. Mere position
may be a part of heaven's condemnation. It is
the use of that position for the sake of suffering
humanity in which the highest life is found. The
fame which is of ^"^Ine is that which is born in sac-
rifice and rocked ii: ' cradle of service.
/ The wise man and the fool die, and nature makes
no difference as to burn.l. The good man and the
bad man die, and the bad man is likely to have
the better tombstone of the two. Every man is
stunned, and bewildered, and confounded by the
mysteries around his world and human existence.
You might not detect the difference between the
dog's grave and the man's, after the priest or the
preacher has stepped back and the shovel has done
its work. The fool leaves a will, and the wise man
an example, and the world cares more for the will
than it does for the character. Even his nearest
friends hasten to open the one and neglect to read
the other. " He seeth that wise men die, likewise
the fool and the brutish person perish, and leave
their wealth to others." A thorn fence of interro-

LIFE'S PURPOSE

gat ion-points surrounds this condition. Only Go<3
can open the unseen gate and lead a man out into
larger vision and higher living. This gate has a
secret latch, and only the sacrificial hand can open
it. The young person begins life by accepting the
popular theory that there are certain objects which,
attained, bring happiness. He awakens after his
dreams and struggles to see those who have riches
wanting more and never satisfied. The man with
fame, envied, slandered, and unhappy. Even love
itself has lost power to produce joy. Success itself
has no value, only when the Columbus spirit has
discovered the hidden secret of how to be success-
ful with success. All these things, which the world
terms success, and value, and happiness, may be
hindrances, and sometimes even a curse. Riches.

.?LS}!5ILi9n!l3H5tJ^,JiRClo)^^ oy?crs'^opd,
iL3^L-HSJ^te-~?XjS!He- Real life is outside of
possessions, and positions, and pleasures. That is
not joy which is poisoned by a single drop of self-
ishness. It has lost heaven's touch.

A beautiful incident of Agassiz's early years re-
veals the secret of the noble life of that brilliant
and victorious genius. It illustrates his whole life.
He began right. He lived in Switzerland, on the

LIFE'S PURPOSE

. 1

■I-

border of a lake. He had a little brother, and the
two boys thought they would like to join their
father. The lake was covered with ice, and they
were to walk across.

The mother stood by the window watching them
— anxious as mothers are — seeing them getting
along very well, till at length they came to a crack
in the ice, perhaps a foot wide. Her heart failed
her. She thought, " That little fellow will try to
step over; Louis will get over well enough, but the
little fellow will fall in."

She could not call to them — they were too far.
What could she do? She watched him, and, as she
watches, Louis got down on the ice, his feet on one
side of the crack, and his hands on the other, just
like a bridge, and his little brother crept over him

to the other side. Then Louis got up, and they

went on their way to their father. There is winter
everywhere. The ice is full of cracks. There are
helpless souls on the other side. The ice is wet.
Will you get down? You must first get down if
you would get up. You must be a bridge if you
would be an Agassiz. If you would know the joy
of a great soul, you must first know the sacrifice.
Real pleasure is not found where most men are

LIFE'S PURPOSE

searching, for they are lost in the woods of a false
philosophy. The gold is found only in the deep
mines of God's higher law. We are such dull schol-
ars in God's school, we never learn from history.
Every man must make his own errors and place
his own foot upon God's laws. We do not believe
the other man, but walk right up to the hot stove
and blister our own fingers before we are wise
enough to leave it alone. It was one of the lessons
of the cradle, and the high chair, and the school
room, and life's larger college, that the things of
time and sense, grasped by the hand of selfishness,
can never satisfy the heart of man. In the centre
of his fame and luxury every Solomon cries out,
" Vanity — vexation of spirit," and heaves a heavy
sigh for something better.

" But they that will be rich fall into temptation
and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful
lusts which drown men in destruction and perdi-
tion."

" For the love of money is the root of all evil,
while some coveted after they have erred from the
faith and pierced themselves through with many
sorrows."

Hearken to the man who says: " For me to live

LIFE'S PURrOSE

is Christ." • " Godliness with contentment is great
gain." " Having food and raiment, let us be there-
with content." I have learned that in whatsoever
state I am, therewith to be content."

Man is an irrational creature when it comes to
the realms of morals; the same man is sometimes
great intellectually, but morally he is a madman.
Contemptibly weak when off his special line. With
everything in his favor, and the world calling him
successful, he fails to extract any sweetness out of
life, because he has never touched the right princi-
ple. Making a living has meant more to him than
making a life. In fact, he has never discovered that
wide distinction. He is perfectly familiar with
what Judas said, but has never heard Paul's motto.
The millions and mountain-tops of the world are
not producers of joy. I saw in a narrow alley three
children with dusky skin, bare feet, and tattered
garments. The oldest boy had found an empty
box, some blocks and sticks, and, out of these rude
materials, had constructed a movable cart. He
placed, lovingly, the two little black relatives in
the carriage, and then said, with delight, and the
touch of the other world upoti it: " 111 ride you as
long as you want me to. I made it for you." I

LIFE'S PURPOSE

las

saw that same day a coachman and footman drive
the spangled team and cushioned carriage to the
palace door. The occupants were marked by the
world's care. There was deeper joy in the alley
than on the avenue. The colored boy knew more
of life than the millionaire. The empty soap-box
was better than the carriage. The life outside of
self was the one essential. Service for others is
the one real service for self.

.Making the highest life is tn live in rhrist. He
holds the ideal of life, He holds the strength to at-
tain it, as He holds the crown for it s rew ard. The
J^nauples W'hich control this^Jife in Him are con-
trary to the world's principl es. H e startles the
world by declaring that *' Loss js gain/^*_^^iying^
is saving," *' Death is life."

His ideal is character, not something that is
added to life, but that eternal something which is
life itself. If a man is to live in Him, then He must
live in this ideal. If He came to carry a cross, I
must carry a cross. If He came to be ministered
unto, I must serve. If He came to give His life
a ransom, I must be ready to die for others. If He
came to seek and save the lost, that must be my

LIFE'S PURPOSE

mission. In this kind of a life, what may seem loss
to the world will be gain to me.

The rich young man may keep all the command-
ments, but the life in Christ demands the complete
surrender, and says, " Sell all that thou hast and
give to the poor, and follow me."

Men are unwilling to submit to this demand of
the higher life, and are blind to the fact that dying
things cannot give undying pleasure. They con-
tinue to act as if the things of this world could
give unperishable delight. It is a crooked path
which most people take to reach the side of Christ.
There is a straight and narrow path to Christ and
to His life, but they cross the fields and pick the
flowers, and waste time, and get lost before they
begin to ask the solemn questions.

The floods washed away home and mill — all the
poor man had in the world. But as he stood on the
scene of his loss, after the water had subsided,
broken-hearted and discouraged, he saw something
on the bank which the water had washed bare. " It
looks like gold," he said. It was gold. The flood
which had beggared him had made him rich.

The gold of life is oftentimes discovered only
when all that the world calls life is swept away.

\ i

• LIFE'S PURPOSE

[he
:he
led,
ing

.od

Inly

lay.

A man who might carve statutes and paint pictures,
spending his Hfe in making mock-Howcrs out of
wax and paper, is wise compared witli the man who
might have God for company, and yet shuts God
out and Hves an empty Hfe. Bury your little theo-
ries, give life and power to the divine ideal. There
is no mistake with God. Selfishness shall not be
triumphant. Give God all the time He asks.
These principles were not made by little man for
his petty uses. They were made with strength in
them. This is the calm of heaven in which a man
can sun himself.

This life, in the purpose of the Son of God, can
be attained only by the strength which He im-
parts. " Apart from Me ye can do nothing." " I
can do all things through Christ, who strengthen-
eth me." " I have given you an example." " My
grace is sufBcient for thee." This makes the great
contrast between men in similar circumstances in
life. " Two merchants lived side by side in the
same street. Both were prosperous, but one was
a Christian, and the other was not. In a commer-
cial panic, both went down, and, at fifty years, had
to begin life again. The merchant who was not a
Christian promptly committed suicide. The other,

-T f-

LIFE'S PURPOSE

with unfaltering faith in God, never let go the peace
that passeth understanding. He kept his place in
the church, and none could ever tell that he en-
dured hardships, for his soul remained full of peace
which God alone can give."

This life in Christ is mystery, but also glorious
reality. No human life can carry a grander sen-
tence than, " For me to live is Christ." To live in
His purpose, and through His strength, and to re-
ceive His approval.

" By this time to-morrow, I shall have gained a
peerage or a place in Westminster Abbey," Nelson
said to his ofBcers before the battle of the Nile.
Admiral Nelson was made a baron, with a pension
of £2,000. After the battle of Copenhagen he was
made a viscount. Four years later came his fatal,
crowning victory of Trafalgar. Although mortally
wounded, he lived to know that the triumph was
complete.

" Kiss me. Hardy," said the dying hero.

Truly,

" The bravest are the tenderest,
The loving are the daring."

Thank God, I have done my duty," and " God
and country," were his last words.

LIFE'S PURPOSE

God

But infinitely better than a peerage or a place in
Westminster Abbey will be the crowning of the
humblest child of the King, who, before all the
hosts of heaven and earth, shall hear him say, " In-
asmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of
these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." •

In Sherman's campaign it became necessary, in
the opinion of the leader, to change commanders.
O. O. Howard was promoted to lead a division
which had been under command of another gen-
eral. Howard went through the campaign at the
head of the division, and on to Washington to take
part in the review. The night before the veterans
were to march down Pennsylvania Avenue, General
Sherman sent for General Howard, and said to him,
" Howard, the politicians and the friends of the
man whom you succeeded are bound that he shall
ride at the head of his old corps, and I want you to
help me out."

" But it is my command," said Howard, " and I
am entitled to ride at its head."

" Of course you are," said Sherman. " You led
them through Georgia and the Carolinas, but,
Howard, you are a Christian."

"What do you mean?" replied Howard. "If

LIFERS PURPOSE

you put it on that ground it changes the whole
business. *' What do you mean, General Sher-
man? "

" I mean that you can stand the disappointment.
You are a Christian."

" Putting it on that ground, there is but one an-
swer. Let him ride at the head of the corps."

" Yes, let him have the honor," added Sherman;
" but, Howard, you will report to me at nine
o'clock, and ride by my side at the head of the
whole army." In vain Howard protested, but
Sherman said, gently, but authoritatively, " You are
under my orders."

When the bugle sounded the next morning
Howard was found trembling like a leaf, and it re-
quired another order from General Sherman before
he was willing to take the place assipned to him. He
had, as a Christian, yielded the place to another
which rightly belonged to him, and, in the grand
review, found himself not at the head of the corps,
but at the head of the army.

When the white horse and his Rider come down
the skies in everlasting triumph, self-sacrifice shall
carry the crown of glory.

•ps,

To live content with small means ; to seek elegance rather
than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion ; to be
worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich ; to listen to stars
and birds, babes and sages, with open heart ; to study hard ;
to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, aivait occasions,
hurry never ; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and
unconscious grow up through the common — this is my
symphony. — William Henry Channing.

Progress man's distinctive mark alone,
Not God's and not the beasts ; God is ; they are,
Man partly is and wholly hopes to be.

— Browning.

Life is a series of surprises. We do not guess to-day the
mood, the pleasure, the power, of to-morrow when we are
building up our being. A lower states — of acts, of routine
and sense, we can tell somewhat, but the masterpieces of God^
the total growths and universal movements of the soul, Ue
hideth. I'hey are incalculable. I can know that truth is
divine and helpful, but how it shall help me 1 can have no
guess for so to be is the soul inlet of so to know. The new
position of the advancing man has all the powers of the old,
yet has them all now. It carries in its bosom all the ener-
gies of the past, yet is itself an exhalation of the morning.
I cast away in this new moment all my once hoarded knowl-
edge as vacant and vain. N'ow, for i he first time, seem I to
know anything rightly. The simplest words, we do not
know what they mean except when we love and aspire. —
Emerson.

Ill

LIFE'S PROGRESS

The genius and hope of human Hfe is in its prog-
ress. The sublime possibilities in manhood are the
pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night.
They are the abiding companions of the hard and
perilous journey, but prophesy victory and the land
of promise. The child holds the acorn and ques-
tions its mystery; then drops it upon the ground
and presses it into the earth beneath his tiny foot.
A few years pass by, and upon that same soil stands
the stalwart form of a man. He has been a war-
rior on the battlefields of his country, and now
proudly wears the mark of courage and patriot-
ism. He has an eye with the lightnings in it, and
a voice which carries the thunders in its com-
mands. He rules the thousands at will. Now he
is under the shadow of a gigantic oak which has
braved the storms of many a winter and furnished
shelter and delight through the heat of summer. It

LIFE'S PROGRESS

I
I

is ready to be sacrificed in the building of a king's
palace or the making of a majestic ship. The oak
is the acorn, and the soldier is the child. One and
the same. Progress through the years is the secret
of the marvellous transformation. The helpless
babe and kingly man, the tiny acorn and giant for-
est; this is the startling yet familiar reality. Famil-
iarity has banished wonder and silenced the teacher.
The child wrestles with his letters, and how to place
them in the word and then in the sentence is a con-
stant puzzle. The great scholar is deciphering
hieroglyphics or an Egyptian monument and mak-
ing revelations which are the amazement of the
student world. The struggling, failing child is the
scholar of unquestioned authority. They call the
ragged urchin " Bob." They almost despair in the
attempt to teach him or to save him. He seems to
be lost to all consecrated effort. A hopeless waif of
the streets. They afterward called him Dr. Robert
Morrison, the first and greatest missionary to
China.

This is the hope of manhood and the dignity of
life. " It doth not yet appear what we shall be."
There are brightest possibilities for every life here
and hereafter. This is not an exception to the rule.

LIFE'S PROGRESS

No law in the universe need be broken. It is tbe
movement of the highest law. It is the object
toward which every force in the world is working.
The progress of manhood is the centre around
which the very world revolves. There is no organic
life in nature without growth. It is essential in
both the natural and the spiritual world. There may
be orthodoxy, or creed, or ceremony, without life,
but there can be no religion. Progress is elemental
in Christianity. Growth in grace is one of the fun-
damental principles. This is the emphatic mark of
vital religion. There may be reverses and tempo-
rary backward movements, but the time and the
seasons fix the buds, and open the blossom, and
ripen the lucious fruit. The great movements of
the soul must be forward. Contentment is a grace
which needs definition and explanation. Satisfac-
tion with past attainment is unrighteous. The holi-
est ambition of the soul is progress. When Thor-
waldsen had finished a statute that satisfied him, in
deepest sorrow he discovered that his genius had
departed from him. His great intellect saw that
failure began at the point beyond which a man
could push no further. That was the result in his
life. The statue was his best but his last of real

LIFE'S PROGRESS

11-

value. The best in a man ought to grow to the
last. This is the greatest possibiHty in every life.

Progress depends upon a worthy purpose, a
dauntless will, and a divine force. The holiest pur-
pose and most worthy ambition of the human soul
is the aim of perfection of character. A glorious
possibility. " This one thing I do " was the cry of
a great heart which understood the value of char-
acter and appreciated the transformation into the
very likeness of the perfect Man. Perfection, com-
pletion, roundness, wholeness, were large words in
his vocabulary. This is not the dream of a mo-
ment. It may be as long as eternity and as ex-
pansive as God, but the bright mark upon which
every faculty and all ambition and energy is con-
centrated. Everything else is chasing butterflies
or following a will-o'-the wisp into the damp, and
dark, and disease of the night and the swamp. This
is the reality and the only thing which is affected
by every part of life. All other things are secondary
and, when in their proper relation, are assistants to
it. It is being, not doing. It is not an act, but is
the achieving of truest nobility. The complete
realization may be a long distance ahead, but every
step lessens the journey. Every fraction makes the

LIFE'S PROGRESS

I I

iii

million less. Some things in mathematics are never
exactly measured, but they are used in the prob-
lem. So is the problem of life worked out by con-
stant approximation. General Gordon, the great
English soldier of Khartoum fame, sat in his tent
reading the " Imitation of Christ," by Thomas
a Kempis, that book which illustrates the persist-
ency of self-discipline and the certainty of becom-
ing more like Christ. He reads and then writes:
" This is my book, and, although I never shall be
able to attain to one-hundredth part of the perfec-
tion of that soul, I strive toward it, the ideal is
here." Every heart knows aspiration and is con-
scious of breathing upward and longing for some-
thing better. These are the sanctified points in life
that ought to be fastened and toward which the
efifort ought to be made. The goal of the heart
lies beyond the line of vision. It is not satisfied
with the narrow boundaries of the earth. It sweeps
the very last circle of the globe and still cries for
something more than the riches of earth can give.
Every heart makes theology, and writes philosophy,
and repeats to itself great and governing princi-
ples. There are holy moments when the soul is
set at liberty and rises to the association of the

LIFE'S PROGRESS

-i

brotherhood of angels. The best that is in us is all
surrendered to a higher purpose, nobler exist-
ence, better preparation for the eternal future. We
shake our chains like a slave who has tasted of lib-
erty and longs to be free from his bondage. It is
possible for a man to spend the whole circle of his
days here upon earth under the controlling and
elevating power of such a sacred ambition. His
hand seizes the better and clings to it until a verdict
of justice declares his eternal right to its posses-
sion. The most subtle temptation to which man is
subjected is to search for small things, to be guided
by a low purpose to do that which ten thousand
lesser creatures are capable of doing, and to neglect
the special faculty, and grander task, and most im-
portant part in the plan of the ages. Cleopatra
said to Mark Antony, " It is not for you to be fish-
ing for gudgeon, but to be taking forts, and towns,
and citadels." A king ought not to be building a
hut, or even a palace, but an empire. A sublime
and absorbing purpose challenges even the impos-
sible to hinder a Homer or a Milton. The secret
of growth, and progress, and triumph is discov-
ered at the heart of the motive, the ambition and
the purpose. How often bright, and generous, and

LIFE'S PROGRESS

noble young manhood, with ancestry and educa-
tion pushing it forward, has failed in making any
visible progress by virtue of having chosen down-
ward instead of upward. Life's occupation meant
grasping avariciousness, meanness, miserliness, and
the destruction of all magnanimity and generosity.
A money-making scheme and nothing else resulted
in a money-making machine and nothing else. A
vocation which narrows and dwarfs, and paralyzes
the best that is in us, and is deaf to every cry of
the soul, is an unworthy profession and ruinous in
its result. The first consideration in the choice of
an occupation should be its effect upon character.
The question which ought to be thrust into its very
heart is, Does it lead upward? If it does not, noble
manhood must forever reply, It shall not be my
star or my guide. Life's ambition, to be worthy,
must have something higher in it than mere wealth,
or fame, or pleasure. Real values are only found
in character. Manhood must overtop position.
Manhood is greater than career. He is king only
who is above his calling. Old and blind, he feels
his way into the gallery, and, with uplifted face,
passes his hand over the Torso of Phidias, and the
Cardinal hears Michael Angelo say: ** Great is this

LIFE'S PROGRESS

marble; greater still the band tbat carved it; great-
est of all tbe God wbo fasbioned tbe sculptor. I
still learn; I still learn." Tbink of tbis great genius,
but do not forget tbat tbe masterpiece of bis life
was tbe carving of a magnificent purpose. He was
never satisfied. He was willing to plod and toil
for seven long years, decorating tbe Sistine Cbapel
witb bis immortal " Last Judgment " and "Story
of tbe Creation," until tbe muscles and cbords of
his neck were forced into such rigidity tbat he could
not look down without bending his body. For
weeks at a time be carried bis bread witb him on
tbe scaffold and worked while he ate, so tbat not
a moment should be lost. For days his clothes
remained upon bis body and bis eyes refused sleep.
A block of marble was always in bis sleeping-room.
The chisel and mallet were ever ready, and the call
of a new idea was never disobeyed. This was tbe
man who immortalized himself in tbe world of art
and yet, after be was three score years and ten,
cried, " I am learning! I am learning! " His educa-
tion was never finished. His ambition was always
ahead of him. We read the wonderful romance
which came from tbe genius and toil of Hawthorne
£ind are unfamiliar with its almost tragical history.

LIFE'S PROGRESS

The *' Scarlet Letter " was written in its author's
own hlood. That feHcity of expression and beauty
of diction was the result of almost inconceivable
efforts toward the purpose of his heart. For
twenty years he worked on unrecognized and un-
known in this and other books. Some of them he
burned; some of them were torn in shreds; some of
them were the combination of a score of note-
books. A thousand sources centering in the same
stream. It is this sublime purpose as the control-
ling force of a man's life vNdiich is his inspiration and
his elevation. It compels the world to recognize its
owner's worth. They refused Hawthorne, but it
was necessarily a momentary refusal. Time, with
drawn sword, stood by as his companion. In the old
country parsonage Judge Field committed to mem-
ory the Decalogue and learned the great principles
of justice, and formulated his determination to be
absolutely just himself and to give his life in secur-
ing justice for his fellow men. Circumstances were
unable to hinder his ambition. Money was not h
inheritance, nor were his opportunities the besi
After repeated struggle, the young lawyer arrived
in San Francisco in 1849 with only ten dollars in his
pocket. His experience in the mining-camps and

LIFE'S I'ROGRESS

administering justice to the ruffians with whom he
was conipeiled to live was a post-graduate course
in his education. His privations, and escapes, and
exposures were many and startling. It was a diffi-
cult undertaking to administer and execute law
among outlaws. He began his judicial career be-
hind a drygoods box surmounted by tallow candles.
He faced guns, and received infernal-machines, and
passed through most exciting and perilous scenes.
It was a long training of hardship and misrepre-
sentation and violence, but even the flash of the
assassin's knife revealed the marks of nobility upon
every one of his features. That purpose led him
on until he occupied a position from which he could
defy legislatures and Congress, and he did not falter
in defying the world when he knew he was right.
Hardship was his blessing, because a worthy pur-
pose was his salvation. That is the history of every
career of justice and ascendency of manhood. Prog-
ress through opposition is one of life's best les-
sons. This great truth gives value to life and in-
spiration to service. What the germ may be is the
protection for It. The future of the boy is his
guai 'ian in the present. No great sacrifice is made
for 11 if he is regarded as a mere animal, to eat,

LIFE'S PROGRESS

III

iiii

and sleep, and die. But if this crude casket of the
physical carries a jewel of highest value, it is most
precious and treasured for what it holds. If in the
child life there is the beginning of a philosopher, or
a philanthropist, or teacher, or artist, or scholar, or
noblest character, no care is too great and no labor
too exacting. Prayer and effort converge toward
this one point in the world. The present is re-
garded as the future, and the climax of an endless
life is sufficient inspiration. One October after-
noon, while Wendell Phillips was in his offtce, he
formulated the purpose of his life. It was some-
thing of a sudden inspiration, and came in a strange
pathway. There was a disturbance in the strf^t;
he threw open the window and saw the mob abus-
ing Garrison. He heard their blows, and kicks, and
curses, and watched them dragging him toward the
jail. That night the young lawyer was sleepless.
His thoughts were ever upon the cruelty of the
mob and the wTongs of his fellow men. He asked
himself a thousand times the question, What is lib-
erty? He saw visions and heard roices, and that
morning was the morning hour of his life. Every
other dream now perished. He made the holy de-
cision to deny himself every comfort and all ease

[i )

LIFE'S PROGRESS

and follow where the voice divine summoned him.
In Faneuil Hall was the first critical moment. He
must speak or die. The murderers of Lovejoy were
being justified. " Mr. Chairman," he said, " when
I hear the gentlemen lay down principles which
place the murderers of Alton side by side with
Otis and Hancock, with Quincy and Adams, I
thought those pictured lips would have broken into
voice to rebuke the recreant American for the slan-
dering of the dead." Those sentences, which burned
into the souls of his fellow men, thrust him into the
foremost rank of the world's orators and patriots.
That was the beginning, but not the ending.
Hatred, and revilings. and insults were a large part
of his life, but the very men who once would have
killed him were afterward ready to build his mon-
ument. It was that magnificent purpose which
made his progressive life and gave him triumph
above his fellows.

At every step of the upward movement purpose
must find its sweetest and constant companionship
in an undaunted will. A hard battle is preparation
for a harder one. One victory is the forerunner of
another struggle. Blessed is the man who is reso-
lute, aggressive, and persistent in this advance

LIFE'S PROGRESS

movement. He is already in the hospital and on
his way to a near-by grave who is resting on his
laurels. Character is made by the process of de-
velopment, and not in a sudden or great accretion.
The best in every man comes at greatest cost.
There are athletes in religion, and every Daniel
has been in training for the lion's den. The old
imperial guards have been on other fields before
they made the tremendous charge at Waterloo.
Character is like knowledge, and man must give it
to others to have it best himself. Self-denial is
self-increase. Strange doctrine, but the richest,
ripest element in character. There is a great and
active principle in life which declares that having
is not mere possession. Passive possession is the
grasp of the palsied hand of the mendicant. To
have is to use and to increase. Real possession is
receiving more and more. *' To him that hath shall
be given." This is a universal law. There is nu
impunity in its violation. It is a characteristic of
any organism that use holds the secret of its de-
velopment. Activity is the condition of growth.
A machine wears out by use. Life is dependent
upon exercise. It is the element which adds to the
power already possessed. The tree spends its

LIFE'S PROGRESS

strength against the wind and storm, but it is the
best possible investment and pays the largest divi-
dends. The human body is made robust, and
healthful, and muscular, and beautiful by proper
exercise and seeming expenditure. The impossible
of to-day becomes the easy task of to-morrow.
Giving is keeping. Losing is saving in the divine
economy. He who does not master an inheritance
and rightly use it loses it. Whatever effort was
necessary in getting property is balanced by the
effort in keeping it. Wise investment is not easy,
but positively essential. Indolence will always lose.
Even money does not change hands easily. It is
at tremendous risk. Its continuous value and se-
curity depend upon its righteous use. Not using
anything is losing. A man must work his intel-
lectual force if there is to be growth of those sacred
faculties. Brain power increases by expenditure,
by action, by strain, by toil. The idler dwarfs and
paralyzes the best that is in him. There is only
one royal road over which progress moves. It is the
way of giving, of action, of using, of expenditure, of
sacrifice. There is no other progress. The gaining,
growing, godly life must be the sacrificial life.
Mankind is afraid to put this great principle into

LIFE'S PROGRESS

operation. His will becomes frightened before it.
He fails to realize that forward movement is only
along this line. He who becomes frightened before
obstacles and gives up easily, loses all. Progress in
life and character depends upon a vigorous will,
meeting even sacrifice without fear. Lofty posi-
tions and real riches are only gained by a refusal
to ever repeat the word impossible. " It is not a
* lucky word,' this same impossible," says Carlyle.
No good comes of those who have it often in their
mouth. Who is he that says always there is a lion
in the way? Sluggard, thou must slay the lion
then. The way is to be travelled. Poetry demon-
strated to be impossible arises the Burns, arises the
Goethe. In heroic, commonplace being, now
clearly all we have to look for, comes the Napoleon,
comes the conquest of the world. It was proved
by fluxionary calculus that steamships could never
get across from the farthest point of Ireland to the
nearest of Newfoundland. Impelling force, resist-
ing force, maximum here minimum there, by law
of nature and geometric demonstrations, proved
what could be done. The Great Western could
weigh anchor from Bristol port, that could be done.
The Great Western bounding safe through the gul-

I t

LIFE'S PROGRESS

e it.
only
efore
jss in
will}
posi-
efusal
not a
arlyle.
1 their
a lion
le lion
emon-
ses the
, now
)oleon,
roved
never
to the
resist-
Iby law
proved
could
done,
e gul-

lets of the Hudson threw her cable out on the
capstan of New York and left our still moist paper
demonstration to dry itself at leisure. " Impossi-
ble," cried Mirabeau, to his secretary. " Never
name to me that blockhead of a word." Welling-
ton once exclaimed: "Impossible. Is anything im-
possible? Read the newspapers." Napoleon
declared that impossible is not a French word.
Here is a fragment of history:

" It is February, 1492. A poor man, with gray
hair, disheartened and dejected, is going out of the
gate from the beautiful Alhambra, in Granada, on
a mule. Ever since he was a boy he has been
haunted with the idea that the earth is round. He
has believed that the pieces of carved wood, picked
up four hundred miles at sea, and the bodies of two
men, unlike any other human beings known, found
on the shores of Portugal, have drifted from un-
known lands in the West. But his last hope of
obtaining aid for a voyage of discovery has failed.
King John of Portugal, under pretence of helping
him, has secretly set out on an expedition of his
own. His friends have abandoned him; he has
begged bread; has drawn maps to keep himself
from starving, and lost his wife; his friends have

77 ^

-.|r-r)-!---- ■•! -^ f ^f Ultmm f tf g - iiM i t.,n. i mi>. ■■ * *■! < < i n pit<

LIFE'S PROGRESS

called him crazy, and have forsaken him. The
council of wise men, called by Ferdinand and Isa-
bella, ridicule his theory of reaching the east by
sailing west. " But the sun and moon are round,"
replies Columbus, " why not the earth? " " If the
earth is a ball, what holds it up? " the wise men ask.
"What holds the sun and moon up?" Columbus
replies.

A learned doctor asks, " How can men walk with
their heads hanging down and their feet up, like
flies on a ceiling? " " How can trees grow with
their roots in the air? " " The water would run
out of the ponds and we should fall ofif," says an-
other. " The doctrine is contrary to the Bible,
which says, * The heavens are stretched out like
a tent.' " " Of course it is flat; it is rank heresy
to say it is round."

He has waited seven long years. He has had his
last interview hoping to get assistance from Fer-
dinand and Isabella after they drive the Moors out
of Spain. Isabella was almost persuaded, but finally
refused. He is now old, his last hope has fled;
the ambition of his life has failed. He hears a
voice calling him. He looks back and sees an old
friend pursuing him on a horse, and beckoning him

LIFE'S PROGRESS

to come back. He saw Columbus turn away from
the Alhambra, disheartened, and he hastens to the
Queen and tells her what a great thing it would be,
at a trifling expense, if what the sailor believes
should prove true. " It shall be done," Isabella re-
plies. " I will pledge my jewels to raise the money;
call him back." Columbus turns back, and with
him turns the world.

Three frail vessels, little larger than fishing-boats,
the " Santa Maria," the " Pinta," and the '* Nina,"
set sail from Palos, August 3, 1492, for an unknown
land, upon untried seas; the sailors would not vol-
unteer, but were forced to go by the King. Friends
ridiculed them for following a crazy man to cer-
tain destruction, for they believed the sea beyond
the Canaries was boiling-hot. " What if the earth
is round? " they said, '' and you sail down the other
side, how can you get back again? Can ships sail
up hill?"

Only three days out, the " Pinta's " signal of
distress is flying; she has broken her rudder.
September 8 th^y discover a broken mast covered
with seaweed floating in the sea. Terror seizes the
sailors, but Columbus calms their fears with pic-
tures of gold and precious stones of India. Septem-

LIFE'S PROGRESS

ber 13, two hundred miles west of the Canaries,
Columbus is horrified to find that the compass, his
only guide, is failing him, and no longer points to
the north star. No one has yet dreamed that the
earth turns on its axis. The sailors are ready for
mutiny, but Columbus tells them the north star
is not exactly in the north. October i, they are
two thousand three hundred miles from land,
though Columbus tells the sailors one thousand
seven hundred. Columbus discovers a bush in the
sea with berries on it, and soon they see birds and
a piece of carved wood. At sunset, the crew kneel
upon the deck and chant the vesper hymn. It is
sixty-seven days since they left Palos, and they have
sailed nearly three thousand miles, only changing
their course once. At ten o'clock at night, they
see a light ahead, but it vanishes. Two o'clock in
the morning, October 12, Rodengo de Friana, on
watch at the masthead of the " Pinta," shouts
"Land! land! land!" The sailors are wild with
joy, and throw themselves on their knees before
Columbus, and ask forgiveness. They reach the
shore, and the hero of the world's greatest expedi-
tion unfolds the flag of Spain and takes posses-
sion of the new world. Perhaps no greater honor

LIFE'S PROGRESS

was ever paid man than Columbus received on his
return to Ferdinand and Isabella. Yet, after his
second visit to the land he discovered, he was taken
back to Spain in chains, and finally died in poverty
and neglect, while a pickle dealer of Seville, who
had never risen above second-mate on a fishing
vessel, Amerigo Vespucci, gave his name to the
new world. Amerigo's name was put on an old
chart or sketch to indicate the point of land where
he landed, five years after Columbus discovered
the country, and this crept into print by accident."
The new worlds and great continents of life and
character are all discovered like that. The world
may fail in its recognition and reward, but a noble
purpose and an iron will have ever accomplished
their mission and been the greatest blessing to the
world and of the most resplendent glory in heaven.
There may appear sometimes in life a retrograde
movement. The progress of the race is marked
with fluctuations, sometimes strange and unac-
countable. There has not been steady advance in
one direction. There have been reverses and set-
backs, but always overcome by the stronger force.
Civilization after civilization has appeared and ad-
vanced and disappeared. The march has been over

LIFE'S PROGRESS

the graves of once prosperous and victorious na-
tions. We are now building on the ruins of Assyria,
Babylon, Nineveh, Egypt, and Rome, but this day
is the best of all, and the march is forward. So in
the life of the individual there are backward steps
and seeming fatal disasters, but recovery was pos-
sible and the darkness the beginning of dawn. That
day multiplied the number of miles which had been
lost by two, and the journey was again in new and
beautiful country and toward the triumphal arch.
Retrogression is an essential element of progress.
It is repentance before salvation. It is a falling
down sometimes in order to rise. There is a cer-
tain preparation which precedes visible progress.
A John the Baptist before the Christ. These are
the hours for patience; the winter plays as much
a part in the harvests of the world as does the sum-
mer. There is forward movement, but not always
recognized by careless observers. The silent growth
and development of each day is preparatory to the
sudden appearance of progress. There is work
done in the darkness before the seed comes to the
surface. Under the snow there is life and the con-
servation of energy which makes for golden grana-
ries, and loaded orchards, and blooming gardens,

LIFE'S PROGRESS

and richly carpeted meadows. There is an unseen
progress. The demands of vision should not give
birth to doubt or discouragement. The best that
is in us moves silently and slowly toward its goal.
Unseen growth is nevertheless forward movement.
There is also a wise forgetfulness in order to
progress. There is an impulse forward in forgetting
the things behind. Regrets, and failures, and ob-
stacles are chains upon human feet. Break these
shackles and change slowness into fleetness, doubt
into faith, blindness into vision, disc- »uragement
into hope, weariness into strength. Forget mis-
takes. Organize victories out of failures. The
innocence of childhood is lost, but sadness will not
restore it. The folly of youth is at last recognized,
but " might have beens " never won victories.
Even the losses of manhood are not overcome by
brooding upon them. With earnest and enthusi-
astic spirit face the future. On, on, is the watch-
word!

" Not backward so our glances bent,
But onward to our father's home."

The tragedy of life is in brightest beginning and
splendid achievement stopped and wrecked on the
way to everlasting triumph. Courage insufficient

LIFE'S PROGRESS

pt '!

and will frightened by hinderance become the cause
of saddest failure.

A little child living almost in the shadow of a
mountain thought of its cloud-capped summit as if
it belonged to heaven rather than to earth.
" Mother," he asked one day, " could anybody
climb to the very top of the mountain? " The
mother smiled. '* Why, yes, dear," she answered.
" All that one would need is to keep right on climb-
ing. You can get almost anywhere by taking steps
enough." The words lingered in the boy's mem-
ory. Years after, he found himself destitute of the
very rudiments of an education. Yet in his heart
was a thirst for knowledge which made his igno-
rance almost unendurable. And then into his mind
flashed his mother's words, " You can get almost
anywhere by taking steps enough." He brought
a spelling-book and a rudimentary arithmetic, and
began his upward climb. It took many " steps,"
and the way was not always smooth. Yet he reso-
lutely kept on. Beginning his education after his
twenty-first birthday, and amid countless discour-
agements, to-day he holds an important professor-
ship in one of the foremost universities of the coun-
try.

LIFE'S PROGRMSS

)S,

;so-
his
)ur-
;or-
mn-

Some years ajjo a vessel was wrecked on one of
the South Sea Islands, and the owners were de-
pendent upon an account of the shipwreck written
in the dialect of the Indians to secure their insur-
ance. But who could translate it? The paper was
submitted to the professors of Harvard and Yale,
but no one was equal to the task. There was a
young blacksmith in the city of Worcester, Mass.,
however, who thought he could translate it. The
dialect was not familiar to him, but, give him time
to study the manuscript, and he could make a trans-
lation, and he did. That young man was Elihu Bur-
ritt, who learned his trade at his father's forge in
Connecticut, and was then achieving success at
" the flaming forge of life." By almost incredible
self-denials and hardships, foregoing pleasure and
ease, often reducing sleep and food to the lowest
fraction, as economical of his time as he was obliged
to be with his money, and with a will that never
knew defeat, he "got there." A very successful
business man says, " The things that count in the
great struggle for prosperity are the old-fashioned
qualities of honesty, a noble purpose, sobriety, in-
dustry, economy, and push." Burritt had these,
and won.

1 I

LIFE'S PROGRESS

lif

" I count this thing to be grandly true,
That a noble deed is a step toward God.
Lifting the soul from the common clod
To a purer air and a broader view.
We rise by the things that are under our feet
By what we have mastered of good or gain,
By the pride deposed and ihe passion slain
And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet."

The wonders accomplished by t\v^ few reveal the
supreme possibilities for all. The artist paints, and
the poet sings, and the musician plays, and the
orator thrills, but it is your achievement. It is the
human voice, and the human brain, and the human
skill at its best here to tell all men of the bright
hope in the future; of the power needed to be real-
ized in immortality and redemption. The eleva-
tion of the one is the bright star of revelation for
the many. The meaning of life is progress, growth,
better, brighter, richer days. The way lies upward.
The path is a mountainous one. The hinderances
shall weaken and the burdens lighten. The best
that is in man shall go toward its perfection. As
character grows the faults and failures weaken.
The very increase of the one means the decrease of
the other. The weeds in the field are first cut and

mangled by the hoe, but afterward the shadow of

•

LIFE'S PROGRESS

lI the

,, and

1 the

is the

luman

fright
real-

eleva-

on for
owth,

,:)war(l.
ranees

He best

n. As

eaken.

ease of

:ut and

dow of

the corn does the work, silently but more effect-
ively. Growing stems of corn are death to weeds.
This is a beneficent and encouraging factor in hu-
man progress. Christian graces are never bought,
but always grow. They are not articles of the fac-
tory, but of the field. The Church does not keep
them as its wares, and even prayer will not avail
us in securing them. The) are cultivated and
grown according to the eternal laws of life. Faith,
hope, and love are not carried to a man in the hands
of answered prayer. The principles of life declare
that time, and energy, and service, and suffering
enter into every element of noble character. They
may sprout quickly, but it is a long process and
many a storm before the oak of highest manhood.
There may be progress in pruning. Life may be
increased by cutting off some worthless branches.
There is a putting off which wisely accompanies
the putting on. Death is thus followed by higher
lif!^, more beauty, better fruit. This work is suc-
cessfully done only when accompanied by the rein-
vigoration of the divine spirit. The new nature
may be implanted, but it is a subject of nourish-
ment and renewal. The energy of the spirit of God
is its support. The upper forces in the natural

LIFE'S PROGRESS

i '

world brought the best out of the seed in flower
and fruit. So there is an agency above man which
works in him and with him in bringing the very
best out of his Hfe. The moral light of the eternal
Son seizes a man and lifts him up into greater
stature and strength. Here is an ugly root with
no form or comeliness, and with no apparent future
of beauty or value. The imagination even fails to
place worth in it. You carelessly trample upon it
and it utters a cry heard somewhere, " Shame,
shame, wait until the warmth of the springtime and
all the forces of nature have been my benefactors
and I will add fragrance, and beauty, and even joy,
to the world." Out of the blackest and smallest
root flowers are growing everywhere as a mockery
to our wisdom and understanding. The crooked
root spells out in the complicated twists of its un-
attractiveness the combination of prophetic words,
*• It doth not appear what I shall be."

A traveller among the mountains of Madeira set
out for a distant summit, but was soon lost in a
thick mist. He would have despaired, but his guide
kept calling out from before, *' Press on, master;
press on; there's light beyond." When God calls

LIFE'S PROGRESS

wcr

iiich

very

;rna\

sater

with

iiture

ils to

)on it

hame,

le and

'actors

;n joy,

iiallest
ockery
ookcd
liis un-
1 words,

jira set
1st in a
IS guide
Imaster;

)d calls

out, " Be strong; I am with you," we need not
fear.

As the old Eastern proverb has it, " With time
and patience the mulberry leaf becomes satin."
Years ago, Mr. Beecher preached to his young
people after this manner: " O impatient ones, did
the leaves say nothing to you as you came hither
to-day? They were not created this spring, but
months ago. At the bottom of every leaf-stem is
a cradle, and in it is an infant germ; and the winds
vill rock it, and the birds will sing to it all sum-
irer long, and next season it will unfold. So God
is working for you and carrying forward to perfect
development all the processes of your lives." And
as if he had fitted it on to the thought, George Mac-
Donald said, " God cr.'i afford to wait; why cannot
we, since we have Him to fall back upon? "

In the new military tactics there is a mancruvre,
" advancing by rushes." In this the soldiers rush
forward for a short distance and then drop to the
ground, repeating this course until the charge is
ended. The manoeuvre is supposed to give the
men respite from the fierceness of the enemy's fire.
So when the great charge toward San Juan's
heights began, the order was given, " Advance by

LIFE'S PROGRESS

rushes," and for a part of the distance was exe-
cuted. But the Spaniards seemed to secure
the range of the Americans, halting as well as
advancing, and our losses were constantly growing
greater. Half-way up the hill a commander gave
the order for another rush. The bugler, seeing the
fearful devastation that was being wrought in.our
ranks by the Spanish fire, sounded instead, the
" long charge." On the instant the soldiers leaped
to their feet and began that unremitting advance
toward the enemy's lines that has become historic
and unsurpassed in the annals of great assaults.

Life is the " long charge," and uphill, but our
commander is the triumphant victor.

A Christian mans heart is laid in the loom of time to a
pattern which he does not see, but God does ; and his heart
is a shuttle. On one side of the loom is sorroiv and on the
other is joy^ and the shuttle, struck alternately by each, flies
back and forth carrying the thread which is white or black
as the pattern needs. And in the end, when God shall lift
up the finished garment and all its changing hues shall
glance out it will then appear that the deep and dark colors
were ai ueed/ul to beauty as the bright and high colors. —
Beecher.

That blessed mood
In which the burden of the mystery, in which the heavy and

weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world, is lightentl.

— Wordsworth.

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform ;

He plants His footsteps on the sea
And rides upon the storm.

— COWPER.

Behind a frowning Providence

He hides a shining fice. — CowPER.

LIFE'S MYSTERY

The other name for life is mystery. Life is only a
convenient term for a mysterious something, never
defined, nor analyzed, nor understood. We speak
the familiar word with an appearance of wisdom,
but it is clouded with densest darkness and igno-
rance. Even the separate events of our earthly
existence are clothed with the garments of unan-
swered query, " why " — " what " — '* when " — and
only the echo comes back. Frequently the divine
commands are issued without explanation and be-
yond the possibility of human comprehension. The
pathway is through night, and forest, and peril.
When that old-Lime hero of faith and obedience re-
ceived the strange and startling order from heaven
to leave his home and possessions and friends and
journey to a country of which he did not know,
but must discover and adopt as his own, he began
that famous career which reached its climax of mys-

tIw

LIFE'S MYSTERY

tery and loyalty on the mountain-side when he laid
his only son on the altar of sacrifice and learned,
best of any man, the meaning of the Father's rela-
tion to the atonement on Calvary. How it must
have stunned his heart and turned the last dark
hair snow-white to hear the familiar voice —
" Abraham." He instantly replied, " Here I am."
Then strange, overwhelming demand! God said:
" Take thy son, thy only son Isaac, whom thou
lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah and
offer him there as a burnt offering." When he re-
covered from the first shock, preparation was made
and the journey began. No voice answered the
oft-repeated questions in the deeps of his soul, but
the mystery thickened and closed in upon him as
he lovingly pressed his boy's hand and led him
through the darkness. The heart of the one was as
heroic as that of the other. When the faithful son
made himself a willing sacrifice, without any light
from human reason, he placed one of the most har-
monious notes in the music of the world's redemp-
tion.

The kingliest attitude of man is the acceptance
of mystery with unconditioned obedience. Even
the Son of God never rose higher than when He

«««»"

•«etvr;*ww»Mi

LIFE'S MYSTERY

said: *' Let the cup pass." " Nevertheless not my
will." This element of mystery is universal, and en-
circles every life. It is necessary because of the
tangled intricacies of life and the narrow range of
human vision and the preeminence, but not prom-
inence, of the spiritual. There are moments in life
when the sentences are all ended with interroga-
tion-points. Why did the business come to bank-
ruptcy and compel the banishment of hope and
shatter the plans of life into atoms? Honesty, and
sacrifice, and industry were partners in the concern,
and they were unable to save it from wreck. Why
did this beautiful child die when there are hundreds
of orphans and cripples who live as burdenf to
themselves and to others? Why was this holiest
purp'>se of a human heart thwarted? Why was that
sublime sacrifice destroyed in the bud? Why is sin
triumphant and righteousness ever defeated? There
is no word in the vocabulary so full of life and stub-
bornness as the familiar " why." O unexplorable
and crushing mystery of every-day life. A single
glance at the features of any company of people
reveals the fact that each countenance carries a hid-
den mystery. The child in its mother's arms, the
old man on his staflf, the young man and maiden,

LIFE'S MYSTERY

the man and woman on the hilltop, all are marked
with the puzzling problems of life. What broken
hearts, what concealed experiences, what forced
smiles, what protestations of joy which tell too
much, — happy, but the heart is the home of grief,
and burning grief. Tears do not fall, but they are,
nevertheless, increasing in the hidden receptacle,
and the increase is in bitterness. Every man carries
his own secret and own mystery. His life goes on
in dreaming, and thinking, and scheming, and plan-
ning, and efYort for perfection, and the dawning of
the clearer day is still delayed. He is a mystery to
himself and a mystery to others. At one time his
acquaintances would not believe that it was ever
possible for the rich man to become poor. His
numbers were thousands and millions. It was a
veritable fortress; even God's lightning and thun-
der seemed helpless before it. He sat in his security
and gloated over his enormous fortune and abso-
lute independence. He rejoices in the fact that
friends flatter and serve him and beggars crouch
before him, while the world apparently revolves
about his life as the centre. Strange, mysterious
world; his fortress is made of paper; his strength
is weakness; his riches are like a dewdrop; it reflects

LIFE'S MYSTERY

a world, but a single gust of opposing wind scatters
it forever. The man of giant-like proportions and
strength, who never knew feebleness, stands in the
pride and security of his magnificent health and
power of endurance; erect, energetic, lithe, and an
overabundance of life and cheer, but he lives in a
world which knows transformation great enough
to make that elephantine man subject of a child's
assistance. If no other forces enter in to destroy
the impregnable rock of his mighty strength, time
is sufficient, and thrusts the cane in his hand and
the glasses upon his eye, and weakness into every
drop of blood which moves slowly through vein
and artery. The years often create anxiety to
" shuffle off this mortal coil." What a startling
change! We have known of men of greatest in-
tellect and most critical judgment unable to give
a rational decision upon any subject. Not able to
write their own names or read their own letters.
Reason is godlike, but mystery of mysteries, the
great intellect is the subject of ravages sufficient to
destroy even the shadow of its former power. It
is a victorious hour and an epoch-making time
when a man discovers his true condition, and the

necessity of mystery in life. He is then able to take

LIFE'S MYSTERY

to
•tling
it in-
give
le to
:ters.
the
ht to
It
Itime
the
Itake

his bearings and go on and not waste all of his time
in unravelling knotty problems and only increasing
the tangle.

In the Yankee thread exhibit they show you a
machine whose work is enumerated as follows: It
reels thread on to little wooden spools at the rate
of 250 dozen in a day of ten hours, each spool being
wrapped with 200 yards of thread. It moves and
acts like a sentient being. Eight hoppers are filled
with little wooden spools, and the machine starts.
It picks a spool out of a hopper, adjusts it on a
spindle, reels out 200 yards of thread, cuts it, inserts
the end in a nick in the spool that it makes, dumps
the finished spool and takes a new one, and repeats
this performance all day, in less time than it takes
to write about it. The spools are then taken to an-
other little machine that rushes them through a
contrivance which pastes a label on them that it
chops out, pitches the spool into a box, and hurries
along in a mad race with the machine reeling the
thread.

The human reason has not the power of the ma-
chine to spool the threads of life. It twists and
knots and tangles a few inches of time. It is only
in the loom of God and under the divine hand that

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

1.25

IIIM
ill

^ m
^ m

120

1.8

lA. mil 1.6

<P1

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 873-4503

■1>^

y . 4>

<K-

'tip Mj)

LIFE'S MYSTERY

these threads are ever unsnarled and woven into
a fabric of beauty. Herein is the creation of mys-
tery; human vision cannot follow the single thread.
No event stands out distinct and alone. They
cross, and recross, and fasten themselves to each
other. The ramifications are in the pattern, but
the pattern is not in the eye. All the events of life
are linked together as a chain. After years of hid-
ing, a single word will draw the event of boyhood
days into the light as vividly as when it first oc-
curred. The sound of a voice, the dream of a night,
the color of a leaf, the fragrance of a flower, draws
a whole train of circumstances into view. Life is
an involved drama. It is a composition of forces;
it is a combination of incidents. There are more
semi-colons than full-stops. The judgment should
be reserved for integers and not fractions. The
process is not the result. He who jumps at con-
clusions skips contentment and happiness. Rea-
son and faith clasp hands and go, step by step, until
they echo the Voice eternal, " It is finished."
Everything in life has some meaning and emphasis
and relation. Even failures and mistakes enter into
the eternal harmony. The grand total of human life
includes the laborer, and sufferer, and cripple, and

LIFE'S MYSTERY

pauper, and helpless babe, as well as the rich, and
strong, and royal. Every man and every thing
enters into the great mystery. Life itself, wherever
it is found, is an ever evolving and increasing mys-
tery. The path is often through a tunnel as dark
as night, but onward movement brings the traveller
out at last into the clear sunlight of heaven.
Blessed is the man who tunnels the mountain and
abides the darkness. Accident seemingly plays a
large part in human experience, but the most trivial
events come to be written in italics in the story of
life. An unexpected and momentary meeting
brought two hearts together and bound them with
the bonds of holy matrimony. How much was
linked to how little! They called it chance, acci-
dent, happening, but it was an event of tremendous
import. All the rest of earthly existence depended
upon it. The acorn has in it no greater mystery
than a single glance of the eye, or move of the
hand, or an additional step of the foot. Many of
the best things come to a man as a surprise and
with no prophecy in them. Many of the greatest
burdens might have been removed by the slightest
effort. A letter is delayed and the fortune is lost,
and the future is dark. But in all our blindness, be-

*; 1

LIFE'S MYSTERY

cause of this necessary intricacy, and the im-
portance of apparent trifles, there is a gospel of
providence. The gospel is larger than our con-
ception. It is not a theory of books. It is in
the battle, and the toil, and the sacrifice, and
the daily service. There can be no denial of
the goodness of providence in the centre of
all mystery if the pages of history do not end
with a period, if the years and centuries are all
fastened together in the divine plan. We are vexed
and tormented by single instances. We are en-
couraged and fortified by the union of all events.
The man who opens the volume of history and
reads wisely and continuously makes the supreme
discovery of the human heart that God lives, and
every mystery to man is a valuable and necessary
part of the divine programme. This is a fact to be
realized spiritually rather than to be admitted in-
tellectually. If it is in the soul of man no storm
can toss it and no billow cover it. There may be
momentary agitation, but still the music goes on
in that heavenly strain, " All things work together
for good to them that love God." That is like the
magnificent harmonies of a Beethoven which are
the combination and interlacing of single notes,

100

in-
rm
be
on
ler
:he
ire
|es,

LIFE'S MYSTERY

Ihey are complicated now, but their individuality
is preserved in the whole. Every grass-blade and
hidden violet is as much a part of the landscape,
and shares in its beauty, as the central figure or huge
mountain. There is an empire of love, and a sceptre
of omnipotence, and an immovable throne in the
darkest and deepest mysteries and most irrecon-
cilable providences. " Justice and righteousness
are the foundation of that throne." The cloud is
only dark on one side, — the lower side. Behind
every cloud the sun still shines. The darkest day
has its light. The most mysterious providence has
a flood of light on the upper and heavenward side.
One of the most delightful and soul-elevating oc-
cupations is to watch the unfolding ot the divine
programme like the mountain view of the clouds
when scattered and swept from the earth's surface
while the beauty and wonder of the landscape is
revealed. The insect's home must be broken up in
order that the fields may wave with their golden
harvests. The insect could not understand it, but
it was life rather than death.

Mystery is another name for salvation. Our
plans are not unlikely to be essential to the per-
petuity and prosperity of our world. There are

I
1^

i ■!
! V i'

■••!l

LIFE'S MYSTERY

higher laws than those which we have committed
to memory. " On one occasion," says Carlo Cec-
carelli, " when Verdi was engaged on his master-
piece * II Trovatore,' he stopped short at the pas-
sage of the Miserere, being at a loss to combine
notes of sufificient sadness and patnos to express the
grief of the prisoner Manrico. Sitting at his piano
in the deep silence of the winter night his imagina-
tion wandered back to the stormy days of his youth,
endeavoring to extract from the past a plaint and
groan like those which escaped from his troubled
breast when, forsaken by the world, he saw himself
constrained to smother the flame of his rising
genius. All was vain! One day at Milan he was
called unexpectedly to the bedside of a dying friend,
one of the few who had remained faithful to him
alike in adversity and prosperity. Verdi, at the
sight of his dying friend, felt a lump rise in his
throat. He wanted to weep, but so great was the
intensity of his sorrow that not a tear would come
to the relief of his anguish. This state could not
last. He must give vent to his grief. In an adjoin-
ing room stood a piano. Under one of those sud-
den impulses to which men of genius are frequently
subject he sat down at the instrument and there

102

LIFE'S MYSTERY

ud-
itly
ere

and then improvised that sublime Miserere of the
' Trovatore.' The musician had wept. Those of
the company who were not already kneeling in the
presence of the angel of death, at the sound of those
pathetic" notes which seemed like the last sobs of
a departing spirit, prostrated themselves, deeply
affected, at the feet of the genius of musical art."
Strange that a tear should be the supreme neces-
sity in order that a great master might do his best.
The secret of Governor Seymour's splendid charac-
ter and brilliant career is revealed in his own words:
" If I were to wipe out twenty acts, what should
they be? Should it be my burdens, my foolish acts
(for I suppose all do foolish acts occasionally), rny
grievances? No; for, after all, these are the very
things by which I have profited. So I finally con-
cluded I should expunge, instead of my mistakes,
my triumphs. I could not afiford to dismiss the
pang of mortification or refinement of sorrow, I
needed them, every one. The very pivotal differ-
ence by which we rise or fall turns upon the way
in which we grapple with our faults. All my ac-
quaintance with the eminent men of the country
has taught me that the way to greatness is found
in fearless self-examination."

103

:t f'

LIFE'S MYSTERY

In this mysterious and yet providential world,
failures, mistakes, poverty, loss, sickness, sorrow,
and their kind, may be messengers of greatest bless-
ing. How could such a man as John Milton under-
st^.nd the tangles of his life from that midnight hour
in his bleak garret when the vision rose before him
of the power to write a poem which the world would
not willingly let die to the hour when the blind poet
whispered in death, " Still guides the heavenly
vision." He must live the life heroic before he could
write a heroic poem, and through unceasing toil,
through night and day, he began the battle, and
even fought in the wars of his country with such
self-abandon that when a brutal soldier lifted his
sword above him and shouted, " I have power to
kill you," the scholar replied, '' and I have power
to be killed and to despise my murderer." He be-
came the target for persecution and even lost his
human sight before he could write "Paradise Lost."
He made his heroic poem, and the world never let
it die, but, Oh, what a life of mystery in order to
the fruitage! Our confusion is the inevitable re-
sult of passing judgment upon controlling forces
of providence by seeing only isolated and solitary

events. Blindness denies the relation of the par-

X04

LIFE'S MYSTERY

3wer
be-

his

iDSt."

r let
r to
re-
rces
tary
par-

ticular to the universal, the temporary to the eter-
nal, the grain of sand to the mountain, and the
mountain to the sea ; the drop of water to the
ocean, and the ocean to stream, and lake, and cloud.
A man may come so near to the signboard that he
fails to see the landscape, or even to read the let-
ters in the direction. Anything may be brought so
near to the eye as to render sight impossible. Great
breadths of human history must be seen so that
confusion may disappear while order, and law, and
harmony are revealed. Any single event may
sound like discord, but when it is seized by higher
laws and made a part of the great plan it is one of
the sweetest notes in the music of earth. There is
an unanswerable conundrum at every step of the
journey. The surface and momentary view reveals
only tangle and disorder in the administration of
things, and sometimes forces the conclusion that
there is no government in the afifairs of men.
Chance is the only god and the only law. There is
disturbance everywhere. The conscientious man
comes to have poverty instead of riches, and the
strong man who scrambles and fights against rights
is the victor. Policy is crowned in a single day,
and principle is slain. Politics overrides statesman-

105

LIFE'S MYSTERY

ship. Goodness is oftentimes mocked and jeered
at by the apparently victorious evil. The gambler
shouts at the ragged, toiling crowd, " Here is the
only law; here is a fortune in a moment. Turn the
wheel; it is the symbol of all life."

But the narrowness of human vision is the cause
of failure to understand. Our limited faculties are
not capable of solving all the dark riddles of life.
Finiteness demands mystery. There is something
beyond us, and above us, and below us, always and
everywhere. We live within narrow lines. The
outside of the circle is necessarily unknown. Multi-
ply your capacity by ten and you will see more, but
there is still more unseen and unknown. Enter
into companionship with the archangel and see
what he sees, and know what he knows. There is
the same call for faith. The finite never saw what
the infinite government and plan of God have in
them. Our world has a horizon. God's eye sweeps
the universe in a single glance. We speak very
wisely about God the Father, and Christ the Son,
and the Divine Spirit. How little we can know of
their separate existence, or united substance. He
who walks upon the clouds and has the light for

His garments is unseen by mortal eye. We speak

1 06

LIFE'S MYSTERY

boldly the great words Omnipotence, Omnipres-
ence, Omniscience, and have a large vocabulary,
but no dictionary. Who can understand the in-
carnation of Christ or the work of the Holy Spirit?
It is beyond human reason, and must ever be
clothed with mystery. Our understanding fails
when we attempt to fathom the deep things of re-
ligion and life. Our knowledge is often spoken of
as if it were complete, but it is very dim and un-
satisfactory. We talk about God, and write about
Him, and the child lisps His name almost the first
word, but all this is like a picture of the Yellow-
stone caiion or Yosemite peaks compared with
the inspiration of standing in the centre of their
glory and grandeur. We speak of Christ and the
Holy Spirit as if we possessed even the faintest un-
derstanding of their love, and service, and sacrifice,
and devotion, and power. What a mystery en-
velops the manger cradle, and the carpenter shop,
and the bloody sweat, and the agony of Calvary.
Who can understand that a carpenter could save a
world? Impossible! The efifect is greater than
such a cause. True, when between the four points

of human vision, but divinity and eternity and

107

LIFE'S MYSTERY

heaven are in it. So it is in all of God's relation to
human life.

There was a German stone-cutter who was at
work simply for his board, knowing that he would
starve or beg unless he did that. The master soon
discovered that he was a very fine workman, and
\tQ brought him the most difficult part that was
being prepared for the building. One block of

stone after another came with the pencilling on it.
The workman hewed to the line always faithfully
and polished it to the very best advantage. When
the building was completed and they went out to
look at the building, the other workmen were all
standing around and admiring it, but the German
stone-cutter wept for joy, and when he was asked
why he wept, he said: " I did not know the design:
I could not tell all that the master intended; but
as I look at the beautiful vine on that beautiful
front I am glad that I did the very best I could."
God's work with us is like the man of genius with
the result of his inspiration and invention before
the bHnd eyes of his fellow men.

One hundred years ago Oliver Evans, the in-
ventor, predicted that the time would come when

the high-pressure locomotive would enable people

io8

LIFE'S MYSTERY

le in-
iople

who had breakfasted in Washington to take supper
in New York, over two hundred miles distant. Of
course everybody laughed at Evans's visionary
schemes, but it is a feat accomplished now.

George Stephenson, before a committee of the
House of Commons, in 1825, presented a striking
picture of genius badgered by ignorance and self-
conceit which saw visionary dangers in his proposed
steam railway. ** I was subjected," says the great
engineer, " to the cross-examination of eight or
ten barristers, purposely, as far as possible, to be-
wilder me. Some members of the committee asked
me if I was a foreigner, and another hinted that I
was mad. But I put up with every rebuff, and went
on with my plans, determined not to be put down."
The committee asked him " whether, if the engine
were upset, going at nine miles an hour, the cargo
would upset." One of the committee put the fol-
lowing question: " Suppose, now, one of these en-
gines to be going along a railroad at a rate of nine
or ten miles an hour, and that a cow were to stray
upon the line, and get in the way of the engine;
would not that, think you, be a very awkward cir-
cumstance? " " Yes," replied the engineer, with

a twinkle in his eye, " very awkward — for the

109

m
si'

LIFE'S MYSTERY

• f"

COW! " Another asked if animals might not be
frightened by the engine passing at night, especially
by the glare of the red-hot chimney? " But how
would they know that it was not painted? " said
Stephenson, with quick wit. The views of learned
men at that day are entertaining. The Quarterly
Review observed: "What can be more palpably
absurd and ridiculous than the prospect held out
of locomotives travelling twice as fast as stage-
coaches! We would as soon expect the people of
Woolwich to sufifer themselves to be fired of¥ upon
one of Congreve's richochet rockets." " There
would be no further use for horses," said a third;
and " Country inns would be ruined," lamented a
fourth. Ashley Cooper, the eminent surgeon, a
stately old gentleman, was inflexible in opposition.
" Your scheme is preposterous in the extreme.
Then look at the recklessness of your proceedings!
You are proposing to cut up our estates in all di-
rections for the purpose of making an unnecessary
road. Why, gentlemen, if this sort of thing be per-
mitted to go on, you will, in a very few years, de-
stroy the noblesse ! " But railroads have prevailed,
Sir Ashley Cooper, and the cow to the contrary not-
withstanding.

LIFE'S MYSTERY

Open the eyes of thy soul to behold the best
things from the master's hand. Believe that every
mystery carries blessing from heaven. Face the
darkness with patience and confidence and obedi-
ence. Wait, O thou courageous and self-sacrific-
ing soul, wait, and before the knife falls there will
be a rustle among the dead leaves of the bushes and
God will provide another lamb. In viewing the
passing incidents inside of the great principles of
human history we are driven into perplexity, and
after the first questioning and murmur, to press
the finger to the lips and be dumb. In the tragical
silence the heart hears voices which never awaken
a sound in the ear. The ray of light flashes out in
the darkness through the door ajar, and we catch
a glimpse of the fireside and brightness of the
father's house, even though the world is cold and
dark. We wonder, in our silence, if there is not a
tender and pitiful Omnipotence which works in
such great circumferences that all we see is only a
straight line, but in the mighty sweep of His circle
the straight line finds its curve and its infinite mean-
ing and eternal existence. In its days and years
life is strange and mysterious, but there is an ex-
planation in the eternal. Time is a mighty factor,

III

LIFE'S MYSTERY

and reveals it power even in the passing moments.
A few hours change the whole scene; despair is
often only momentary. There is no bread in the
pantry and no fire on the hearth. There are pangs
of poverty and winds of winter declaring boldly
and unmistakably that there is no higher law above
this awful tragedy of life. Suddenly the door opens;
new friends appear; wants are supplied; employ-
ment is furnished; education is offered; the skele-
ton is transformed into an angel. Snowfiakes are
changed into flowers; icicles into fuel, and the
howling winds into heaven's orchestra. Promises
are now realities, and God still lives. Tears and
narrow vision had temporarily shut out all the
higher forces and despair, like a fog, hid every star
in the sky, but at last, upon the winds of eternal
gratitude, heaven receives the message, " How poor
I would have been but for the sanctified poverty
and suffering." William H. Prescott passed out
of the college dining-hall, during his junior year,
and turned his head to learn the cause of a dis-
turbance, when he was struck in the eye by some
missile which destroyed the sight. After his long
illness he returned to college with higher ambitions
and nobler ideals than before. Then the other eye

112

LIFE'S MYSTERY

became inflamed, and, in sympathy, began to fail.
For weeks he was compelled to remain in a dark
room. In this sad condition he walked hundreds
of miles from corner to corner, and side to side,
thrusting out his elbows so as to avoid striking the
wall. In many places the plaster was broken by the
constant hammer from his elbows. He had chosen
law for his profession, but now was compelled to
abandon it. By some unknown force he was pushed
into the study of history, the last choice a man
would naturally make who was blind. He at once
set about the training of his memory, and, at last,
he could correct and retain in his mind sixty pages
of printed matter, and then dictate it to his
amanuensis. He produced his famous " History
of Ferdinand and Isabella," " The Conquest of
Mexico," and the " Conquest of Peru." When he
could use his fast-failing eye only one hour a day
he prepared his " History of Philip Second." He
afterward wrote some of the world's best pages
without seeing a word of the writing, but by push-
ing his hand along the lines of a wooden frame.
The greatest calamity came to his life, but in the
mystery of providence gave him fame and power
beyond his fellow men. His sublime patience

LIFE'S MYSTERY

waited upon God's revelation. To-morrow was a
part of his life as well as to-day. There is a silent,
irresistible force at work through all the apparently
separate events of life. That mighty factor creates
surprise by making gardens out of deserts, and joys
out of sorrows, and gain out of loss, and life out of
death, — yes, and a crown out of a cross. This is
the unknown quantity. What a subtle, yet power-
ful, element! Everything is related as consequence
and antecedents. No event begins and ends in
itself. This demands new thoughts, and explana-
tions, and expectations. Because of this Lazarus
will thank God that he lay at the rich man's gate.
Daniel will rejoice that he entered the lion's den.
Joseph will find no fault with the pit. Bartimeus
will ofifer praise for blindness. Paul will not com-
plain at the thorn in his flesh. Why was John
Knox a galley slave? Why was John Bunyan in
Bedford Jail? Why was Robert Hall a confirmed
invalid? Why was Martin Luther driven about by
persecution? It is all answered in the light of the
upper world. Patience will wait for its answer.
Faith will expect it and obedience will never falter.
Wherever the explanation is not found here there
will be the dawning of a new and brighter day. As

LIFE'S MYSTERY

the years of life advance man begins to touch the
meaning of the divine expression that " a thousand
years is as one day." Time comes to be less and
the eternal future greater. The future is beyond
vision and grasp, and in this is at once the charm
and mystery of life. In the impatience to know and
understand this, mystery mocks us and vexes us
with the cry " not now." " Sometime, somewhere,
we'll understand." " Now we know in part, but
then shall we know even as also we are known."
The mists are to be rolled away and the continuity
and beauty of life's landscape are to be revealed.
The examiner asked the child in the institution for
the deaf and dumb, who made the world, and in the
sign language, she instantly replied: " In the be-
ginning God created the heavens and earth." Sur-
prised at her answer, he asked her again what
Christ came for. She quickly replied: "This is a
faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation, that
Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners."
He looked at her in amazement and then pro-
pounded the hardest of his questions, " Why did
God make you deaf and dumb and give other
people hearing and speech? " Without a moment's
hesitation she moved her little fingers to make the

LIFE'S MYSTERY

sentence, " Even so, Father, for so it seemeth good
in Thy sight." What a magnificent reply to the
solemn mystery of her life! That is the ideal. In
that is the only comfort and joy. In that is Chris-
tian submission. It is a wise confidence. In that
is the highest obedience, the obedience of a sur-
rendered will. In this mysterious life of ours there
is only one who can answer the riddle, or solve the
problem, or interpret the mystery. His name shall
be called " Jesus." The greatest difficulty in the
human soul is the fact of sin. It frightens, and
haunts, and condemns every member of the race.
The Christ alone reveals its nature and pardons
its oflfences. Take it and its family up to the cross
and say, " Oh, Son of God, I cannot understand
Thee, but remember me when Thou comest into
Thy Kingdom," and the graciousness of His an-
swer will suddenly transform mystery i.ito eternal

day.

ii6

i ! I''

t . '

it»i

A manmght carry hm,el/{„ the world, a, an orange-
Iree would ,/ i, could walk up and down in He garden
^,ng,ng perfume from every liuie censor i, holds up to the
<^ir. — Beecher. -^

The reforms of this country have been chiefly due to the
ITJ^L^^'"^"'"""'^^'"'-^"'""^-'^'' THE Statue or

// is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant courage

me7f rfTf' '"'■"''' ""' "^""'"''^^ 'hereforeXt
me take heed of their company. -Shakespeare.

wfTrmtfnT'"'', 'T' "'■ '"'" """"' " '^' """''"«""
we form to noble souls because to become one with the good

generous, and true is to become in a measure good, generous

"od true ourselves.-TtiOHAS Amow. • ^'""'O'"'

> ll

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

There is a biography in sacred history which
declares that the shadow of a man had heaHng
power. Every man carries a shadow with him
which has in it health or disease, life or death, joy
or sorrow, good or evil. " No man liveth unto him-
self."

Man's very nature refuses isolation in life. There
is no such thing as separation from the life of the
world; even the darkness of the cave or the walls of
a monastery are false barriers to man's secret and
sacred relation to man. Life itself is a shipwreck
unless Crusoe finds his man Friday whom he caii
influence and elevate. The island is simply a grave
without the other man. Every life was inte,nd £d.la

can destroy that eternal design. It is a part of life.

Next to blood, it is the greatest factor in human

ii8

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

existence and destiny, second only to the blood of
Christ is his example and irresistible influence.

Every man is the fountainhead of new forces. He
is the author of good or bad in human history. He
is the heir of all the past, and he is one of the crea-
tors of all the future, by the tremendous force of
influence over man. It touches the individual at
every point, and makes or mars character. There
is no exception to this striking rule. The lowest
and weak est nian,jii^^the_earth exerts his influence,
and generations yet unborn will be iilted nearer to
Qod or thrust further away from Hini by it. This
is some of the certain, but deepest, human philos-
ophy, and one of the most vital elements in relig-
ion. Life means repetition in other lives, — grasp-
ing them with a relentless and deathless grip,
moulding and fashioning them after its kind. Dis-
position, tendency, character, are being repeated in
every life within this great circle of influence.

Xwo^ljeople cannot live together in intimacy
without each becoming somewhat as the other.
Even if it be a business relation, the years will
furnish a startling illustration of this truth. Even
weakness leaves influence upon strength.

This seems a threadbare and worn-out statement,

119

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

.•t

It has been written and spoken for all men a thou-
sand times, and yet no one has ever fathomed its
depths or really comprehended it. His vision has
only swept around a small segment of the circle.
Imagination is our deceiver and declares that we
can influence others by what we say. The truth is
rather that we influence others only by what we are.
The true self is the secret of power. Hypocrisy
speaks its greatest falsehood right here.

There are eyes of keener sight than those which
behold the natural world. They are the eyes of the
soul, and the revelators of character. Even a child

sees further than the precepts which fall from the
lip or the evident desire on the part of the speaker
that those who hear him should think him to be
better than he really is. Underneath the surface are
the real sources of influence, and from thence are
the impulses of life. Outward appearance is shal-
low and thin, and sometimes even a window. In-
fluence comes from reality, and not sham. The ex-
ternal life has not wrought out the influence for
good, but the real man's baseness has secured the
opposite eflfect.

A man may never have professed Christianity,
and yet is in possession of real Christ-like character,

120

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

er,

which is the golden sceptre in the hand of a king.
Time and eternity are both natural heirs of his life.

It is not a creed that makes an orthodox Chris-
tian, or a noble man. It is reality. It is what the
soul of life is. It is the heart and substance of the
man. What a man is, is the sun from which radiates
the warmth and life for other lives, or the cold or
frozen orb from which arises death and darkness
for other men.

In that charming work of Mr. Ruskin, " Ethics
of the Dust," he points out that crystals have two
qualities which go to make up their value. One is
their shape, and the other is their purity. The shape
is determined by the crystal's surroundings, the
quick or slow process of cooling, or outward pres-
sure. " But," he says, " it seems as if it had in itself
the power of rejecting impurity if it has crystalline
life enough. Here is a crystal of quartz, well
shaped in its way, but it seems to have been languid
and sick at heart; and some milky substance has
got into it, and mixed itself up with it, all through.
It makes the quartz quite yellow, if you hold it up
to the light, and milky blue on the surface. Here
is another, broken out of all traceable shape, but as
pure as a mountain spring. I like this one best.

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

Purity is in most cases a prior, if not a nobler, virtue.
The crystal must be either dirty or clean. So it is
with one's hands and with one's heart — only you
can wash your hands without changing them, but
not hearts, nor crystals."

We have the influence and power which we in-
tend, and then we have the other which we fail to
recognize. All life is composed of this mixture of
intentional and unintentional influence. It is a vast
conglomeration of greatest force, but none the less
real. All men are surcharged with this power and
susceptible to its effect upon themselves from
L others.

One of the greatest perils of the present ener-
getic and enterprising day is that men will forget
the secret silent movements of the soul of life, and
the unconscious influence they are exerting. We
overestimate planned activity. We underestimate
the involuntary forces of life. This influence, de-
rived from what a man actually is, from reality, is
a most potent factor in his relation to others, and
their relation to him. Whether self is hidden or
revealed, the conscience acts as a detective.
A rose will make itself known, and a foul, offensive
odor will reveal itself, hide them as you will. The

122

LlKl'l'S IXKLUENCK

e
e

ruling and dominant characteristics and faculties
in human nature are existing in a certain independ-
ence of the will. A fetid odor can be imprisoned
more easily than evil in the soul.

We cannot give explanation or formulate a the-
ory of the fact, but the presence of one individual
seems to chill while that of another warms. One
inspires you, while the other exhausts you. Un-
consciousness of real disposition or even best of
intent does not alter this result. A selfish soul in
royal garments has ultimately the same effect as
when dressed in rags. The hypocrisy which clothes
and attempts deceit may be only a good conductor
of evil influence. This is the difference between
wood and iron in the same atmosphere.

The selfishness in the heart blinds the eyes to the
baneful result of its presence. It simply opens the
pores and draws quietly on all it can gather from
others, and thus weakness is discovered, but often-
times the real cause unknown.

A certain disposition may not intend its influ-
ence, and repudiates the idea that " I did that,"
" I make any one unhappy? " " I disclaim that."
" I did not do a thing."

It is an emphatic denial, but nevertheless a pro-

123

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

;;

duction of ill feeling, and evil is the result where-
ever they go. A man may poison the air with jeal-
ousy, hatred, envy, malice, and even vengeance, and
yet never have uttered a sentence. Move, attitude,
appearance of scorn or disgust, are enough. The
sorrowful heart of one person or the ill health of
another is the single drop to color the joy of a
whole family or a circle of acquaintances, and the
be.stower of all this upon others may remain abso-
lutely ignorant of that silent and unseen working.
So, in the sphere of the good, the predominant
qualities carry with them a sweet and saving atmos-
phere, so that good is being accomplished when a
man wills as well when he is not moved by actual
purpose. He thus becomes a perpetual benefactor,
and a continuous gracious power among men.

A good-natured, humorous person is the great
giver to society. He furnishes smiles, and joys, and
courage, and hope, and patience, and a thousand
other blessings without any credit from the recip-
ient. His very presence is a benediction, the oil on
the machinery of life. The courage of one man has
turned the tide of many a battle. Oh, what a stu-
pendous possibility in every life. We do so much

more than we think. Beyond estimation or calcu-

124

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

lation is the influence of one day in the three score
and seventy years.

Every man is a receiver as well as a giver in the
world of influence. It pours in upon him from
every direction as well as radiating from the centre
of his own being and touching all other lives. He
is most sensitive to its contact. There is no illus-
tration in the natural or mechanical world to reveal
this readiness to be fashioned and shaped by this
unseen hand. Some philosophy in its emphasis of
this great truth would even make this almost the
creator of what a man is or shall be. Through the
eye and ear, hand and reason, and nerve centre, and
all openings to the heart of life rush these master
architects and builders of the human temple.

How this enlarges possibility, and opens the
golden gateways of opportunity, and enhances the
value of friendship, and increases the importance of
the clock's tick. Every moment shares in the struc-
ture of character, and is the author of success. It
claims its part in the making of destiny.

The fragrance of every flower, the song of every
bird, the grace of every cloud, and the twinkle of
every star enters human life in some form and de-

125

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

gree. How much more the single odor, and song,
and grace, and flash of another soul!

The child comes into the world of influence, and
that is all. The providence of God places the babe
in the centre of a circle, — father, mother, brother,
sister, and friends. That new life is not governed
by abstract propositions or rules, or known princi-
ples of living. It is the subject of influence, and all^
the early years are passed in that condition. Even
the school life is largely that. The man comes to
be governed more by the influence of things, but it
is his injury, and not his blessing. Neither is it a
necessity.

The great force in all life is this personal influ-
ence. Everybody knows its importance and power
when he sees the chief control his clan, or the gen-
eral his army. A Napoleon or a Giant were might-
iest in this part of the battle.

This is a more important question because of the
modern inter-relation of humanity. Influence is
farther-reaching and more certain of effect. We
now touch the whole world, and cannot think of
isolation. The waves of influence go out from every
life and sweep around the world. Neighbor means

126

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

more. Brother is a greater reality. Humanity is a
larger word.

Commerce and Christianity both are thrusting
responsibility upon the shoulders of every man, and
the law of life compels him to carry it. There is
no escape. Consider the number of human beings
an ordinary business man touches in a single day,
or even a woman in the home. Almost every
article brought to the door is carried by a separate
individual. All these influence others, and they in
turn others. Who will dare to make a calculation
of this large sum?

Human mathematics are out of place in this \ \
higher sphere. Remember that you never meet an \ ^
immortal soul in any capacity or glance at a human 1
face without exerting this stupendous force upon it. |
The way you speak, or look, or move is the revela- ?
tion of your actual self, and bears fruit a hundred- I
fold in the rich soil of human life.

Character is contagious. In every greeting and
moment of conversation, in every letter, there is a
subtle influence that goes from us and reaches
further and makes deeper impression than any an-
ticipation on our part.

The noblest soul does not cry, " Oh, God, make

127

L5»

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

me pure, and truthful, and kingly for my own sake."
The greater effect is upon others, and the holiest
ambition is to possess the richest character for the
sake of others. It is not life unto self, but in the
relation to countless other lives.

A lonely and uninhabited island is the only
place for a false, base, and impure life. The tragedy
of life is this power and certainty of contamination.
No man can escape this grave responsibility.

Dwarfed and crippled and belittled lives through
his influence will all stand in judgment to condemn
him or the enlarged and ennobled souls influenced
by him to higher life, will be his joy and crown of
rejoicing. Face the great fact, most heart-search-
ing and most heart-compelling. What I am, others
will be. Heaven keep me from sin for their sake.

The character which you are constructing is not
'all your own possession. It is the quarry out of
which other men bring the stones for the temple
lof their own lives.

Byron was a mighty poetical genius. So great

in the world of literature that Tennyson declared

when he died that he thought the world had come

to an end, but Byron's life of dissipation and sin

has been the source of his real influence upon other

128

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

men. Poetry could not cover up the greater maker
of character.

" Though Elizabeth possessed great and heroic
traits of character," says Drummond, " yet she had
such a treacherous, jealous, pitiably weak and un-
sympathetic nature as to ruin all her noble quali-
ties. She was cruel, and Hentzmer, the traveller,
Slates that he himself counted, * no less than three
hundred heads on London Bridge, of persons exe-
cuted for high treason.' She would swear at her
ministers in the midst of the gravest deliberations.
Splendor and pleasure were the very air she
breathed. She was the greatest liar in the world.
She hoodwinked and outwitted almost every states-
man in Europe. She met every difficulty with a lie
when it would solve it. She had no religious senti-
ment whatever. . She had a bad temper, and, in a fit
of anger, condemned to death her favorite Earl
of Essex, the only man she ever loved. Her life
is an illustration of the blighting power of selfish-
ness and heartlessness upon friendship."

Alexander's drunken habits dominated every fac-
ulty, destroyed his power, and ended his life at
thirty-two.

In our world there is not an hour but is freighted

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

with destinies for ourselves and others, not even
the fraction of a second that does not hesitate to
pass on the dial of time and be gone forever. The
smallest deed or the faintest whisper of a word or
the slightest motion of the body is a part of the
movement of the whole universe of God. How
much life is composed of apparent trifles, small
deeds of kindness, slight tokens of love or the single
flower of appreciation and sympathy. The world
is not all mountains. The violet in the fence-cor-
ner or one of the unnumbered daisies in the
meadow share in the beauty, and safety, and perfec-
tion of the earth.

/ The value of life is unrecognized by failure to un-

/ derstand the might of influence. Most men are

( waiting for some great opportunity, and failing in

/ the completion of daily duty. There is no genius

) if it is not a treasurer of the minute details of life.

The flowers by the wayside do not waste their

fragrance. The traveller may not realize it, but the

odor is his encouragement and strength for the

weary journey. It is a small part of life to wave

banners and blow trumpets. Through the law of

influence each hour trembles with opportunity. No

man is conscious of the pressure of the atmosphere

130

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

upon him, but it is always there as a great elements '
in his life. Its gentleness will not push the tiny )
leaf or weigh heavily upon the youngest child, so \ ^
_die influence of a life is unseen and often unrecog- J I
nized, but mighty in its power.

Many do not know how the Americans came to
be called Brother Jonathan. George Washington,
having been made Commander-in-Chief of the army
of the Revolution, went to Massachusetts to organ-
ize his forces. It was an awful time ot perplex-
ity. Jonathan Trumbull was the Governor of Con-
necticut, and a man of a quiet disposition, but splen-
did judgment and undying patriotism. His influ-
ence was not known to be great, but George Wash-
ington had unlimited confidence in his ability and
patriotism, and said to his officers in the most try-
ing circumstances, " Let us consult Brother Jona-
than." Again and again during the war was
Jonathan Trumbull advised with, and it came to be
a byword among the troops and among the
officers, " Let us consult Brother Jonathan." Thus
it became the sobriquet of the American, and has
had much to do with the increasing victory of the
idea of brotherhood.

131

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

This ordinary life still lives in this great nation,
not only in name but in reality.

The Divine Man was on His way to raise a ruler's
daughter from the dead. A poor woman touched
the hem of His garment, and was healed. His mis-
sion at that time was to save another and seemingly
a more important person. This work, almost un-
consciously done on His way, reveals the Christ
best.

What we propose to do gives expression to our
will and ambition. What we do unconsciously and
on the way to the great act reveals our character.
This tells the story of the virtue in us. Most of
the best and purest work of life is done uncon-
sciously and without plan or intent.

More than one hundred years ago, a young Mo-
ravian hastened with the message of the Gospel for
the poor, stricken and enslaved people of Jamaica.
What horror he was about to face he knew not him-
self. No one had ever been able to depict it, as
blood-stained as it was. Our age cannot realize
the existence of slavery like that. It was economy
even to kill slaves when weakened by hardship and
toil and purchase new ones, because they were so
cheap. The markets and pens were like the places

133

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

of selling cattle without a mark of humanity upon
them. The owner's lash was crimson with fresh
life. The wrongs suffered by those negroes were so
great that they would not listen to this young white
man. They would not and could not believe him. .
He then had himself sold as a slave, and worked
with them under the cruel whip. This was the
conqueror. They now crowded about him, and
listened to his story of freedom in Christ. They be-
lieved it, and lived it. It was to the least of them,
but it was done unto Christ; yes, done by the very
spirit of Christ. This heroic soul died in young
life and as a slave, but years afterward the pathetic
story reached the ears and heart of Wilberforce,
and influenced him to surrender his life to the liber-
ation of the slave. His magnificent work and cour-
age against the awful traffic in flesh and blood was
largely the result of the influence of the apparently
buried life of an unknown Moravian boy.

Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation
with a pen dipped in the blood of that boy. That
is the mightiest force in the world. Who can meas-
ure it? In the upper world, Lincoln and Wilber-
force may stand one on either side of the unknown

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

Moravian. Even that may be a misrepresentation.
He may stand nearer the Christ.

The great teachers and educators have invariably
been men of great personality. They are known
not so much for their intellectual greatness as for
the mighty impress of their character upon the lives
of others.

Arnold of Ruby lived in thousands of boys and
men, and some of the world's greatest and best, by
virtue of the influence he exerted upon them in the
classroom.

CSome years after the eminent John Stuart Blackie
!came professor of Greek in the University of
Edinburgh, at the opening of a college term, the
students noticed that, under the pressure of cares
and labors, their hot-tempered professor had be-
come unusually sensitive and exacting. Students
desiring admission were arranged in line before his
desk for examination. " Show your papers," said
the professor. As they obeyed, one lad awkwardly
held up his papers in his left hand. " Hold them
up properly, sir, in your right hand," said the pro-
fessor. The embarrassed pupil stammered out
something indistinctly, but still kept his left hand
raised. "The right hand, ye loon!" shouted the

1.34

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

professor. " Sir, I hae nae right hand," said the
agitated lad, holding up his right arm, which ended
at the wrist. A storm of indignant hisses burst
from the boys, but the great man leaped down from
the platform, flung his arm over the boy's shoulder,
and drew him to his breast, and, breaking into the
broad Scotch of his childhood, in a voice soft with
emotion, yet audible in the hush that had fallen on
the class, said: " Eh, laddie, forgive me that I was
over-rough; I dinna mean to hurt you, lad. I dinna
ken!"

And, turning with tearful eyes to the class, he
said, " I thank God He has given me gentlemen
to teach, who can ca* me to account when I go
astray." That honest word captured the boys for-
ever, and their cheers were as hearty as their hisses
had been indignant.

His fame and his power began from that day. j
His was the education of a righteous influence. ^

These men lived even more after they were dead
than they did before. The greatest men of earth
were not half alive while they were living. Some-
times they seemed useless while they moved about
in the flesh, but a glance at the life tbey lived since
reveals their true greatness.

135

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

Others tried to kill the best when they were upon
earth and doing theirduty, Elijah, and Jeremiah, and
Isaiah, and all their royal following. They dragged
Garrison through the streets. They murdered
Lovejoy and cursed Philips, but afterward in the
great tide of their increasing influence they erect
monuments to their memory and point to them
with pride. The very things which most con-
cerned men in the past are all forgotten in the pres-
ent, — position, power, money, food, and clothing, —
but the seemingly most valueless and unreal things
— principle, character, vision, etc., are everlastingly
remembered and treasured. The ship is kept afloat
and reaches port by what is above the surface and
points toward heaven. It is the power of life in the
future which increases its sanctity and creates its
value.

Elihu Burritt, the learned blacksmith, used to
thrill his audiences with his graphic description of
a young man who, at perilous risk of his life, clung
with his toes and one hand to a high point in the
rocky wall of the Natural Bridge in Virginia, while
with the other hand he gouged with his pocket-
knife a still higher notch for his foot, that he might
be able to raise himself and mark his name above

136

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

any that had been before him. Such is a man's
ambition to have his name in an honorable and
conspicuous place. But there is a place for the
record of names more honorable than all, and
within every one's reach. . .

If a man is unknown on earth while he lives, and \
yet lives a righteous and godly life, that is his ^
treasure, and never can be destroyed. His real self
cannot be touched. That is the only part of him
which does not die. It will live on and shine on.
Death is only the stripping of a husk, the removal
of the rind, and men discover and live upon the
fruit and the beauty of character. They are forced
to bow down to his memory, and declare a century
afterward that that is a sample of God in the soul
of man. That which is esteemed best as life goes
on in the flesh is to be mostly thrown away. The
package is examined in the next world before it is
received.

No procession to the grave may be the introduc-
tion to the most brilliant triumphal procession in
heaven. Life's value and reward is its perpetuity
here and hereafter.

Cut-glass may flash brilliancy, but the perma-
nency and depth of the diamond's light is its

137

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

treasure. Life here passes quickly and vanishes
away. It seems Hke a vapor, but it is more, be-
cause influence is permanent and enduring. Boy-
hood goes, youth goes, manhood goes, old age is
upon us. Faculty weakens and loses all power
sometimes, mind decays, body has no vitality, but
through ages and the eternal years, what a man is
and does remains. The energy of influence is not
lost. Does it not increase?

They attempted to frighten Savonarola and drive
him from the path of duty, but he faces Lorenzo
with the declaration that the Lord is no respecter
of persons, and he must repent even if he is a prince.
They next threaten him with banishment, but he
adds: " I fear not sentence of banishment, for this
city of yours is like a mustard-seed upon the earth,
but the new doctrine shall triumph and the old
shall fall, although I be a stranger and Lorenzo a
citizen, and indeed the first in the city. I shall
stay while he shall depart." Then with a vision of
the prophet, he declared that great changes were
coming in Italy. Lorenzo, and the Pope, and the
King of Naples all were near unto death, and his
courageous soul had seen aright and witnessed to
the truth, for very soon after Lorenzo and Innocent

1.38

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

Vin. died, and Charles VIIL invaded Italy. A few
weeks after this astonishing prophecy Lorenzo was
upon his death-bed at his country home. The last
offices of his false religion afforded his guilty con-
science no relief and gave him no hope. He had
lost confidence in all men, for they were so depraved
and cowardly as to obey every wicked wish of his.
He said, '* No one ever ventures to utter a reso-
lute * No ' to me." He even said his confessor was
false. To whom could he go. There was only one
man in all Italy who had not lost his influence over
him. That man was his enemy, — no, the enemy
ot his unholy life. That man of conquering influ-
ence was Savonarola, the man who never yielded
to his threats or flatteries. He said in the last mo-
ments of his life, " I know no honest friar but him."
He was sent for, Lorenzo made confession of three
sins, for which he desired absolution. He became
excited and frightened. Savonarola calmed him,
and said: " God is good; God is merciful. Listen.
Three things are required of you." " And what are
they? " he anxiously asked. Savonarola raised the
fingers of his right hand and began. " First, it is
necessary that you should have a full and lively
faith in the mercy of God." " That I have most

139

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

fully." " Secondly, it is necessary to restore that
which you unjustly took away, or enjoin your sons
to restore it for you." This requirement appeared
to cause him surprise and grief; however, with an
efifort he gave his consent by a nod of his head.
Savonarola then rose up, and while the dying
prince shrank with terror in his bed, the confessor
seemed to rise above himself when saying, " Lastly,
you must restore liberty to the people of Florence."
But Lorenzo, collecting all the strength that nature
had left him, turned his back angrily upon him
without uttering a word. Accordingly Savonarola
withdrew from his presence without granting his
absolution. Lorenzo remained torn by remorse,
and soon after breathed his last that same day.

The mightiest man now in the kingdom was
Savonarola. The people looked to him, and he
was true as steel. He denounced evil, and urged
reform with even greater severity. He taught the
true liberty and fought tyranny. He became even-
tually the ruler of Florence, though not in name.
The people called for him to make their new gov-
ernment. All this was only temporary, and soon
the old cry arose, " Crucify him, crucify him,"

and all his great influence vanished like a boy's

140

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

bubble, and was lost. Ah, no, Savonarola's influ-
ence was greater when he was dead than when he
was alive. His eloquence has thundered throug-h
all the years since. His cry for liberty and pure
religion is still heard upon earth, and will be heard
until every shackle, seen and unseen, is broken, and
the Christ, whose echo he was, shall have made all
men free and all worship pure.

Influence challenges every destroyer. Witness
Shaftsbury among the outcasts of London. Wit-
ness John Howard in the prison and dungeons of
Europe. Witness Florence Nightingale on the
battlefields of the world. Witness Grace Darling
among the shipwrecked and in every ray of light
from the rockbound coasts of the sea. Witness
Carey going from England, and Judson from
America, and Livingston from Scotland, and a
noble line of missionary heroes and martyrs of
whom the world was not worthy. Hearken, and
you can hear the echo of the hammer upon the
door of Wittenburg and the stroke of the oar in the
hand of the galley slave from Scotland.

The mightiest force in the world of influence is
the companionship of Jesus Christ. His is not in-
tellectual or even moral, but the whole circumfer-

i.ji

LIFE'S INFLUENCE

ence of the spiritual. Mystery, but glorious reality,
only known and appreciated by the initiated, but
offered to all. Not only skill or genius, but su-
premest character is his. A centre of light even
more radiant than the sun in the sky of the natural
world.

I bow before the world's greatest and best, and
acknowledge in the deepest gratitude my great
debt for their influence on me, but I fall prostrate
before the Christ and weep the praise too deep for
words. I know his secret and his charm. Luther
was once found, at a moment of peril and fear, when
he had need to grasp unseen strength, sitting in an
abstracted mood, tracing on the table with his
finger " Vivit," " Vivit,"— " He lives," " He lives."

That is the great discovery and great comfort

of life. Soul of man seeking for the best, accept

this introduction to the Son of God, and be ushered

into the circle of His Divine influence.

142

// i's only when they spring to heaven that angels
Reveal themselves to you ; they sti all day
Beside you, and lie down at night by you,
Who care not /or their presence, muse, or sleep ;
And all at once they leave you and you know them.

— Browning.

The keenest pangs the wretched find

Are rapture to the dreary void,
The leafless desert of the mind.

The waste of feelings unemployed. — Byron.

Think naught a trifle, though it small appear;
Small sands the mountain, moments make the year
And trifles life.
Four care to trifles give,
Else you may die ere you have learned to live.

— Young,

143

LIFE'S WASTE

When the few barley loaves lay in the basket
at the feet of Christ and waited to grow, under His
divine touch, into an abundance for five thousand
hungry people, the great Teacher and Miracle-
worker did not lose the opportunity to impress
one of the deepest ktsous of life upon the minds
of men. He permitted them to behold with aston-
ishment that marvellous and momentary increase oi
the barley cakes into thousands of their kind.
There was no limit. It was like the transformation
of the barren field instantly into the harvest of
golden corn. The beholder declared that such
power was only from God, and this man must be
made king. It was in this moment of excitement
and temporary glory that Christ revealed the great-
ness in humility and the preeminence of truth. He
refused the crown, but failed not in impressing a
valuable lesson. He declared that God's abundance

144

LIFE'S WASTE

s
)I

■'

would not permit of waste. Anything which comes
from His hand is precious. He could keep on
breaking it forever, but every piece was sacred.
The relation of abundance to waste involves some
of the deepest philosophy of life. Every fragment
of the world's riches should be most carefully
guarded and garnered. One of the most prolific
sources of wealth in these recent years has been
the utilization of waste products; inventive genius
has discovered mines of wealth in the refuse and
slag at the back door. The keen eye of man saw the
mass of waste at the side of the silk factory, and all
the plush of the world has been taken from that of-
fensive, unattractive, useless material. It is supreme
wisdom to know how to transform the waste of the
world into the riches of the world. It is the noblest
character which gathers the fragments up into the
bundle of life. When that youth sat upon the slag-
heap of a mine in California, he studied each clod
with righteous purpose and determination, and then
fashioned a machine that extracted more wealth
from that refuse than other men had ever secured
from the mine itself. Peter Cooper declared that
he built Cooper Institute by picking up the waste
from the butchers' shops. The Persians have a

145

LIFE'S WASTE

strange story concerning the discovery of the Gol-
conda diamond mines. Ali Hafed owned a farm
through which ran a beautiful river. He sat upon
its bank one morning, when the children brought
a stranger to his side. This traveller showed him
a diamond and told him that a handful of these
stones would make him fabulously rich and he
would become a prince among men. He also in-
formed him that there were mines of diamonds in
the world for the man who would discover them.
Ali Hafed dreamed in his discontent that night,
and in the early hours of the morning determined
to sell his farm at any price and search for diamonds,
and riches, and royalty. After years of fruitless en-
deavor he came to be an old man, in the extremity
of poverty and want. Rags were his garments and
despair his companion. Inquiry revealed the sad
fact that his loved ones had all died, and some of
them without the necessities of life. The peasanc
who bought his farm was a prince, because in the
sand on the bank of the stream he had found a
sparkling gem of rare beauty and highest value.
He then found that the sand and the farm were
sown with these jewels. That very farm was and is

the place of the famous Golconda diamond mines.

146

LIFE'S WASTE

The owner had closed his eyes to the enormous
wealth at his feet.

At the side of every man is the abundance of
wealth from the hand of God; diamond mines of
time, and talent, and strength; mines of opportu-
nity, and character, and eternal treasure. The sin
is in the failure to appreciate these and in permit-
ting them to be lost. Life's waste is one of the
chief factors in life's poverty. Everything is most
precious when the divine hand has touched it. He
is most guilty and comes to greatest penury who
does not gather up these jewels with extremest care.
In the abundance is the divine economy. In the
twelve basketfuls of fragments is the difiference
between success and failure. Time is one of our
most valuable possessions, and we are held respon-
sible for its honest use. Time is our patrimony, re-
ceived to be used, and to bring the best possible
returns. Dividends are demanded from our in-
vestment of it. In our dealings with time is the
possibility of our highest integrity or our deepest
dishonesty. We have made divisions in time and
thus wrought injury upon its value. It is all a part
of eternity, and eternity is God. Its sanctity is pre-
eminently in the fact of its being God's possession

147

\ ■

LIFE'S WASTE

and used by us. Not only one day in the week is
His, but each moment of each day is held by divine
right, and is thus most valuable property. If Sun-
day is a day for rest, and Monday a day for work,
that does not take Monday out of God's calendar
or God's ownership. Work is a divine command
as well as rest, and carries just as much sanctity
with it. Life is a mosaic, and each part is to be
fashioned and perfected by itself before it fits into
the beautiful pattern.

Among the applicants visiting the " Intelligence
Ofifice," which Hawthorne describes so vividly,
there is an aged gentleman who makes every mo-
tion according to an unyielding purpose. He says,
boldly and repeatedly, that he is in search of to-
morrow. " I have spent my life in pursuit of it,
being assured that to-morrow has some vast benefit
or other in store for me. But now I am getting a
little in years and must make haste, for unless I
overtake to-morrow soon I begin to be afraid it
will escape me." But the answer comes back from
the man who gives information and carries a certain
pathos with it to the discouraged heart of the old
man. " This fugitive to-morrow, my venerable
friend, is a stray child of time, and is flying from his

148

LIFE'S WASTE

father into the region of the infinite. Continue
your pursuit and you will doubtless come up wi h
him, but as to the earthly gifts which you expect
he has scattered them all among a throng of yes-
terdays." The value which a man places upon the
moments of to-day is the author of all good in
every to-morrow. It is a sad confession which
Thomas Hood makes for himself and countless
numbers of his fellow men. " My forty years have
been my forty thieves, for they have stolen
strength, hope, and many other joys." It demands
a soul like Charlotte Bronte to know the real
meaning of the clock's tick. She said: " I shall be
thirty-one next birthday. My youth has all gone
like a dream, and very little use I made of it." The
hours have swift wings. They fly past a single
point but once, and are gone forever, but they
carry messages into the other worlds There are
more prodigals wasting this substance of life than
any other human possession. They have received
it from their Fathers hand, but are fast losing it
in the riotous, thoughtless manner of living.
Michael Faraday, when a poor apprentice, valued
every moment, and said that time was all he asked.
In a letter to his friend, this bottle-washer in the

149

LIFE'S WASTE

\ '

chemical laboratory wrote: " Time is all I require.
Oh, that I could purchase at a cheap rate some
of our modern gents' spare hours — nay, days. I
think it would be a good bargain both for them
and for me." There can be no thrift or ultimate
success where hour is not fastened to hour and
moment woven into moment in the great pattern
of life. These jewelled particles of time are what
the single blade of grass is to the lawn, or the leaf
to the formation and emerald glory of the tree,
what the grain of sand is to the mountain, what the
sparkling snow-flake is to the white-robed hill-
side, what the drop of water is to the ocean. Its
value depends largely upon its association and its
vital relation to the perfected whole. When Dan-
iel Webster stood at the foot ci his class, which
had come to be for him the point of despair, they
told him not to give up, but to utilize every mo-
ment as life's greatest treasure and preserve it in
the casket of determined industry. They said,
place the highest value on your time and you will
be victor. The advice was heeded, and at the end
of the first quarter Mr. Emery, mustering his class
in a line, formally took the arm of young Webster

ISO

LIFE'S WASTE

and marched him from the foot to the extreme
head.

At the end of the second quarter when the class
was mustered, Mr. Emery said, " Daniel Webster,
gather up your books and take down your cap."
The boy obeyed, and, thinking he was about to
be expelled from school, was sorely troubled.

The teacher soon dispelled the illusion, for he
continued: " Now, sir, you will please report your-
self to the teacher of the first class! And you,
young gentlemen, will take an affectionate leave
of your classmate, for you will never see him
again."

They never did see him in that classroom again;
but the day came when the eyes of the nation be-
held him.

There is no class in the world which can keep
a young man at its foot who has learned the mean-
ing of a moment. In any department of life, he
who will take his hands out of his pockets and say,
in the deep of his soul, time is precious, and be
true to his conviction, will be crowned a king.
Every bridge, and factory, and railroad, and suc-
cessful enterprise, or work of art, was built out of
time. Time is just as much of a mine as the gold

isi

LIFE'S WASTE

mine. It is just as much of a quarry as the granite
hill. Most men waste it and then grieve over their
loss at the other end of the line. Death is the re-
vealer of its real value. Time is not only money
but it is everything. Lose that and you have lost
all. Waste it and you are throwing life itself away.
A single moment wasted is suicidal, and bears the
condemnation of all sin. Most men who have made
a failure of life and are clinging to the wreckage,
can look back and see hours of golden opportunity
lost by their own blindness, and negligence, and
lack of seizing and holding power. There are test
hours which lead on to triumph or failure. Colum-
bus had his supreme moment. What a calamity
if he had wasted it! Washington had his hour
which was freighted with tremendous import.
Lincoln held his watch when destiny itself was in
the tick. Luther with the Pope's bull above the
flames and Knox before Queen Mary were at mo-
ments with an eternity in them. The battles of
men and nations have often hung in the balance
of a fraction of time.

At the Congress of Vienna Wellington told
Stratford Canning, afterward Lord Stratford de

152

LIFE'S WASTE

Redclyffe, how he won the victory at the battle of
Salamanca.

Marshal Marmont commanded the French. The
Duke, trusting to the ability of the Frenchman to
make a slip, drew up his troops in a position where
they were not exposed, and then waited. His con-
fidence was justified. Marmont extended a part
of his force too much. Wellington instantly de-
tected his adversary's error and attacked him with
energy.

" We beat him," said the Duke, in a tone of
natural delight, " in forty minutes, — forty thousand
men in forty minutes," — and he repeated the ex-
pression again and again. " Forty thousand men
in forty minutes."

When this same iron Duke was a boy he was
exceedmgly unpromising. Even his mother called
him a dunce and was so discouraged with him that
she neglected him, believing that there was little
use in attempting to make anything out of him,
but his Waterloo was won in those very hours. At
Eton College he was regarded as being dreamy and
with no special talent, only to play the violin. He
even displayed no desire to enter the army, but
inclined to the life of a civilian. His secret is

153

LIFE'S WASTE

discovered in the holy determination to not waste
his time, but to regard it as his most precious gift.
He held it sacred then, and afterward, and the
battlefields of his life tell the story of its triumphant
victories. Everything can be bought with the
golden coin of time. It is current everywhere, and
never fluctuates in value. " Every man has his
chance." But with open eye and steady nerve he
must grasp it as it passes. " There is a tide in the
affairs of men which, taken at its flood, leads on to
fortune," but the fortune lies in the taking as much
as in the tide.

" Seize, seize the hour
Ere it slips from you; seldom comes the moment
In life which is ended sublime and mighty,"

Critical and strategic moments do not flash their
15rilliancy in every light, but the open-eyed hero
will always detect their real value and claim it as
his own.

The waste of time is life's greatest blunder and

most destructive force. In the fragments is an

abundance of opportunity. Oh, how ruinous waste

has shattered the hopes and ambitions of men! It

has been the author of despair and even death to

the best in life. The greatest discovery of young

life is the value of time.

154

LIFE'S WASTE

Paley, who was not a rich youth, went to Christ-
church College, Cambridge. One night he spent
the whole evening with his friends, wasting his
time, not sinfully, but worthlessly. About three
o'clock in the morning a heavy knock came to his
room door; and Paley, amazed, said, " Come in; "
and there came in one of his college friends. He
sat down on his bed, and said: *' Paley, I have
come to talk to you; I can't get any sleep through
thinking about you. You know who I am. I have
got plenty of money, and it does not matter what
I do at college. I can afford a life of indolence,
but you cannot, and you have got a good head,
and I have not; and, Paley, I have come to tell you
that if you waste your time with us worthless fel-
lows, I'll cut you. I have got no sleep, thinking
about you. If you are going to waste your time
in indolence, I'll call you friend no longer. It
came as a thunderbolt to the young fellow, and he
said, " Thank you." He rose at five o'clock, only
two hours later, and after a word of prayer he went
to his books; and he registered a vow that every
moment he could spare should be devoted to in-
tellectual study. And he wrote the " Horae
Paulinae," and became a king in the intellectual

155

LIFE'S WASTE

world. It was the industry of one moment added
to another which made the granite mountain of his
success.

The sides of life's pathway are also strewn with
the waste talents which careless hands have thrown
away and lost forever. Every man has some en-
dowment from heaven. It may not be the same
as that of other men. It is better that it is not, and
belongs exclusively to him. His very peculiarity
may be his wealth. The one man received five
talents, the other two, and the other one, but each
gift contained the same possibility of reward. The
fideUty of one man doubled his possession and he
received the just commendation. The second man,
by faithful use, multiplied his riches by two and
praise and promise were showered upon him. The
last recipient, who had not learned to estimate real
values, and who had never discovered the startling
possibility of accumulation in one talent, threw it
away. He wasted it by burial and received con-
demnation instead of commendation. Only in use *
is there righteous reward. To waste a single talent
is to be guilty and to be a failure. Any man who
will patiently compound the interest on a single

1S6

LIFE'S WASTE

talent will be rewarded with greater riches and
crowned with success.

There is a false modesty upon one hand and a
false conceit upon the other which make havoc with
some of the brightest possibilities in life. One man
misses the mark by an unwarranted modesty or a
falsely named humility. He tremblingly declares
that there is no great thing to come out of his
life and he must be content to stand in the back
row. He blindly and sinfully wastes the increas-
ing riches of a single talent. Another man claims
to have many talents and brilliant opportunities
and he can aflford to waste some of them and still
be certain of success. False modesty and false con-
ceit are culprits and vandals in the treasure-house
of life.

Here is Mr. Gladstone's advice to young men:
Be sure that every one of you has his place and
vocation on this earth, and that it rests with him-
self to find it. Do not believe those who too
lightly say, " Nothing succeeds like success."
Effort — honest, manful, humble effort — succeeds
by its reflected action, especially in youth, better
than success, which, indeed, too easily and too early
gained, not seldom serves, like winning the throw

IS7

LIFE'S WASTE

of the dice, to blind and stupefy. Get knowledge,
all you can. Be thorough in all you do, and re-
member that though ignorance often may be inno-
cent, pretension is always despicable. Quit you
like men, be strong, and exercise your strength.
Work onward and upward, and may the blessing of
the Most High soothe your cares, clear your vision,
and crown your labors with reward! "

She placed the two mites, which make a farthing,
in the treasury, and little did she realize what a
great loss the world would have suffered had she
not filled her part in the sacrificial life. Never was
there a better investment made in the kingdom of
God. Her conscientious and self-denying service
has been made the inspiration of the world's best
giving. Every alabaster box in the hand of a Mary
has filled the whole house and all the earth with
fragrance, and even the flowers in heaven have
been made sweeter.

What God can bring out of a gift is equally won-
derful. The gift of Mrs. McRobert, of Scotland,
to the missionary David Livingstone was only
sixty-five dollars. But God used it to save thirty
years of Livingstone's life, for the native servant
whom Livingstone employed with the money re-

158

LIFE'S WASTE

ceived from the Scotch woman saved Livingstone's
life from the attack of a lion at the peril of his own
life.

The great wheel in the factory revolves with
lightning rapidity and apparently moves the whole
mass of machinery, but careful inspection reveals
a very small wheel within the larger one. It is
geared to the axle on which the great wheel turns.
Usually unnoticed, but at the very centre of things,
and of supreme importance. There are usually
small wheels within the larger wheels. No wife or
mother can afiford to waste her talent in the home.
The husband or son may be a great wheel in the
political, or literary, or commercial, or religious
world, but there would be no revolutions without
the small wheel at the centre.

Washington, a lad of twelve years, was going to
sea. When the cart came to the door for his trunk
his mother cried and said, " George, your father
is dead and I cannot bear to have you go away."
He gave up his plans and remained, and obedience
to his mother made the presidency possible. John
Quincy Adams, till the day of his death, repeated
the little prayer his mother taught him, " Now I lay
me down to sleep." Lincoln said, "All I am on

Z59

LIFE'S WASTE

I ]

I !l

earth I owe to my sainted mother." General
Grant's mother went into a room at a certain hour
each day during the war to pray for her son
Ulysses, and he wrote to his parents a letter every
week from the field when it was possible. Garfield
kissed the wrinkled face of his mother on the day
of his inauguration and said, " Mother, you have
brought me to this." President McKinley left the
Capitol and the affairs of State to watch at the bed-
side of his dying mother, to receive her last blessing
and to give her his last kiss.

Felix Mendelssohn, when he heard of his sister's
death, fell fainting on the floor with grief. They
were to produce the oratorio " Elijah " about a
week after that time, but he wrote: " Do not put
that oratorio before the public now. I cannot take
any share in it, because through every part of its
construction is my sister's voice and the expression
of my sister's love. She advised me after the com-
position of the oratorio " St. Paul " to take as my
subject " Elijah," and she sang in it, composed for
it, and inspired me. I cannot listen to it now. It
would break my heart, — her voice, her soul, is
through it all."

In every life there are elements of strength which

i6o

LIFE'S WASTE

can fasten themselves upon the very eternities.
How carelessly they are regarded by most men.
They are the seeds which carry within their small
compass magnificent possibilities of fruitage and
golden harvest. The granaries of the future can be
filled by the wise use of a single seed in the present.
In this miraculous world there are no trifles. There
are no common things. Nothing is small. Dare
not speak of the ordinary. Everything is stamped
indelibly with the extraordinary. Under the touch
of the master hand marvellous developments arise
from the minutest seed germ. Cary, sitting in his
cobbler's shop, or tramping with his load of cob-
bler's shoes, does not present a bright prophecy.
His talents were few, and most men could not see
them. When he ventured, as an utterly unknown
and stringently poor minister, to preach, his con-
gregation did not number fifty people gathered in
a straw-thatched building. But the years passed
by with talents developed until all the world knows
his name and applauds his work. After his mar-
vellous achievements in India and his possession
of a fame as wide as the world he said to Eustace
Cary: " If they write my life and say I am a genius,

they will say falsely, but if they say I can plod, they

i6i

;' I

LIFE'S WASTE

€1

! i

will tell the truth. Yes, Eustace, I can plod." The
husbanding of his strength and the valuing of his
talent forced him from the cobbler's bench and
placed him upon a throne.

Thomas Carlyle said, " Genius is an immense
capacity for taking trouble." George Eliot tells
us " Genius is, at first, little more than a great ca-
pacity for receiving discipline." I read once how
a certain prominent man, a judge, wishing to have
a rough fence built, sent for a carpenter, and
said to him: " I want this fence mended to keep
out the cattle. There are some unplaned boards —
use them. It is ought of sight of the house, so
you need not take the time to make a neat job. I
will only pay you a dollar and a half."

But the judge, coming to look at the work,

found the boards planed and the work finished with

excellent neatness. The judge thought the young

man had done it that he might claim more pay,

and somewhat angrily said: " I told you this fence

was to be covered with vines. I do not care how it

looks." " I do," said the carpenter. " How much

do you charge? " asked the judge. " A dollar and

a half," said the man, shouldering his tools. " Why

did you spend all that labor on the job, if not for the

162

LIFE'S WASTE

money? " " For the job, sir." " Nobody would
have seen the poor work on it." " But I should
have known it was there, sir. No, I'll take only the
dollar and a half," — and he took it and went away.

Ten years afterward this carpenter was the suc-
cessful competitor for a great contract the judge had
to give out, — the man successful among a crowd of
others seeking it. " I knew," said the judge, telling
the story afterward, " we should have only good,
genuine work from him. I gave him the contract
and it made a rich man of him."

That is the key to the world's storehouse. Great-
ness and riches are the direct and inevitable result
of a refusal to waste life's talents.

There is a vast waste in the tissues of life by an
unwise haste. Our modern world gives evidence
everywhere of the passing of the cyclone — hurry.
The demands of our high-pressure civilization are
death-dealing in their ultimate effect. This insane
haste never understands the fundamental principles
of life. . It pushes ahead and dares to tread upon
the most sacred rules for noblest living. It disre-
gards the foundation and leaves a half-completed,
tottering structure. Anything, any plan or work,

so long as the end is reached. Nature never 'hur-

J63

LIFE'S WASTE

ries. God never hurries, and in the work of Re-
demption Christ even did not hurry. In their work
there is no confusion or impatience, but definite
plan, and constant growth, and final perfection.
Mere rapidity has ruined the canvas, made discord
in the music, wrecked the business, destroyed the
home, and fastened a blight upon everything sweet
and sacred. Hurry to become rich made the man
die dishonest. Hurry to become a statesman made
the man a politician. Haste to become a king made
the man a fop. Haste to be an artist made the
man a permanent amateur. Effort to become an
oak in a single night left a mushroom in the morn-
ing's dew. The first seven days of the world's his-
tory were so marvellously productive because the
Greater rested one-seventh of the time. It is an
eternal principle woven into the warp and woof of
our world. The child is forced through the modern
educational system at the cost of health, and heart,
and home. Oh, what a waste in the name of edu-
cation! Some of the best elements in human life
cannot be destroyed with impunity. Education iti
a hurry always deserves an interrogation-mark . er
it. Development is the larger education. " Haste
makes waste," is one of the old and unlearned

164

LIFE'S WASTE

truths. It has emphatic application to the day and
the country in which we live. When men are
breathing this poisonous atmosphere and rushing
through life according to this false ideal, there can
be no calmness, or dignity, or joy, or health. It is
suicide without a knife. It is the ancestor of ill
health and restless disposition. It carries a pill-box
and a prescription in its pocket. It draws the
nerves to their highest tension and then falsely ac-
cuses some other element as the cause of this shat-
tered and broken result. We cannot wait for
seasons, but the hot-house produce is tasteless and
a mockery of the springtime's sweetness and prom-
ise. Haste and waste are indissolubly linked to
each other, and when a man on a run grasps the
hand of one he necessarily drags the other. They
are Siamese twins, and when haste snuffs the suc-
cess of life, waste sneezes at it. Run any engine
fast enough and you will need the wrecker's train
to follow it. Growth is never forced, and beauty is
ever the result of infinite pains. The little flower
may appear suddenly, but all the forces in the uni-
verse have contributed to its beauty through the
slow movements of an entire year. Hasten its

growth by drawing the stem out of the ground or

165

■MH

LIFE'S WASTE

pressing apart the bud and you destroy its very life.
The flower of life is lost under the hand of hurry.
It is the foul assassin of many of the best elements
in manhood. These false methods of action are
covered in bright garments, and do not lose their
sinfulness in their deception. They are large fac-
tors in the waste of life. There is an abundance
for all men, but the failure lies in the wrong use
of it or the carelessness with which men regard it.
There is an abundance of force in the world, but
the waste of it is startling and the possibilities in
it overwhelming. If this vast amount of energy
in business and social life and the arts and educa-
tion and everything was centred upon the high-
est ends of life, what magnificent and enduring re-
sults would be obtained. So much of it is lost by
being thrust into secondary purposes and shackled
to the lower ideals. If cooperation could achieve
their combination for the sublimer ends, there
would be a revolution at once. There is enoug^h
wasted love and sympathy to drive the darkness
and want from every cheerless home in the land.
There is enough strength in the schemes and plans
and contrivances of business and politics and pro-
fessions to change the whole condition of society

i66

LIFE'S WASTE

if used for unselfish and higher purposes. The
noise, and excitement, and strain, and expenditure
is where men are scrambling for riches and not in
search of truth and character. Oh, what sinful
waste! The momentary prize is the power which
makes the zeal and effort. It is the trifles of a
day which secures the expense of force and energy.
The enthusiasm of the Stock Exchange would save
the city. The supreme need is the harnessing of
all these mighty forces in human society for the
noblest ends and not allow this continuous and
increasing waste on the secondary things. It is
not a lack of force. It is a failure in direction.
Unused or misused force is one of our greatest
faults, and presents itself as one of the greatest
problems. A conservative, and candid, and critical
reviewer said of Sir David Wilkes's life: " He did
nothing but paint." He had reached prominence
and fame at the age of twenty-one, but he simply
lived in the narrow circumference of his studio.
His motives did not grasp greatness, and he only
touched the surface of the world. His paintings
were skilfully worked out, but they lacked in
breadth, and depth, and mystery, and suggestive-
ness. There is something more to great art than

167

LIFE'S WASTE

canvas and paint, and even skill. There is an in-
sight, and purpose, and sympathy with the world
and mankind. A great artist's world is larger than
his studio, and his fellow men are more than ma-
chines, but this criticism does not only apply to a
painter, but to every man everywhere who adopts
the same principles. Many lives are surrendered to
one thing, and that is the centre of every circle.
A life of power is an inclusive life, not exclusive.
The whole world lies within its vision, and the in-
terests of humanity are its interests. Any profes-
sion, of business, or home which shackles the heart
and fastens it down by these invisible chains to its
own interests is dwarfing and paralyzing in its
efifect. There is something beyond the material
for every man who develops genuine manhood and
enlarges his outlook and character. If a business
ends in making money, it dulls the faculties i?nd
creates sordidness. Pecuniary gain is secondary
to the man himself. That is only paint, and does
not change the heart of the world. Life is ever
dull and common when opportunities for good are
scorned and pathways to nobility are shunned. A
paint-brush, or a pen, or a broom should be moved

according to the eternal laws of sacrifice, and sur-

i68

ir-

LIFE'S WASTE

render, and sympathy, and salvation. Even the
ordinary becomes the extraordinary, and the lowly
rises to the exalted, and the common creates
the uncommon, and everything on earth has the
touch of heaven upon it. The artist everywhere
is the man who does more than paint. There is
more materialism about us than we imagine. It is
a practical kind of materialism in which we permit
the temporal, and visible, and secondary things to
have precedence over the eternal, and unseen, and
spiritual. We use the muck-rake when we ought
to use the telescope. Most men have false stan-
dards of life. They use wrong premises and make
false estimates.

Carlyle's severest critic was an old parish road-
man at Ecclefechan.

" Been a long time in this neighborhood? " asked
an English tourist.

Been here a' ma days, sir."
Then you'll know the Carlyles? "

" Weel that! A ken the whole of them. There
was, let me see," he said, leaning on his shovel and
pondering; "there w-as Jack; he was a kind o'
throughither sort o' chap, a doctor, but no a bad
fellow, Jock — he's deid, mon."

169

LIFE'S WASTE

\i '

" And there was Thomas," said the mquirer
eagerly.

** Oh, ay, of coorse, there's Tarn — a uselss mune-
struck chap that writes in London. There's naeth-
ing in Tarn; but, mon, there's Jamie, owre in the
Nowlands — there's a chap for ye. Jamie takes
mair swine into Ecclefechan market than any ither
farmer i' the parish."

Most men reach that same conclusion concern-
ing their brother man. He lives in a higher realm,
and they are content to live in the lower, and waste
the best of life. The noblest is created out of that
which is ignoble. No man has the right to use
his strength for any other purpose than the highest.
He wastes that which is most sacred, and loses its
reward. Every step in the earthly life of the Son
of God was toward Calvary. " He set His face
steadfastly to go to Jerusalem.'^ Every minor event
went into this larger purpose. Every miracle and
work had its bearing in the one direction. He
never lost a moment or an atom of strength in the
lesser things. The ultimai*! was his object. He
was lifted up only upon the cross. Thp sacrificial
element was the controlling force. That one point

in His life was the centre of that beautiful mosaic.

170

LIFE'S WASTE

He was not only Saviour but example. Let not
a broken fragment of the precious gift of life be
wasted.

In the workshop of a great Italian artist was a
poor little boy, whose business it was to clean up
the floor and tidy up the room after the day's work
was done. He was a quiet little fellow and always
did his work well. That was all the artist knew
about him.

One day he came to his master and asked tim-
idly, ** Please, master, may I have for my own the
bits of glass you throw upon the floor? "

" Why, yes, boy," said the artist. *' The bits are
good for nothing. Do as you please with them."

Day after day then the child might have been
seen studying the broken pieces found on the floor,
laying some one side, and throwing others away.
He was a faithful little servant, and so year after
year went by and saw him still in the workshop.

One day his master entered a storeroom but little
used, and in looking around came upon a piece of
work carefully hidden behind the rubbish. He
brought it to the light, and to his surprise found
it a noble work of art, nearly finished. He gazed
at it in speechless amazement.

171

LIFE'S WASTE

"What great artist can have hidden his work
in my studio? " he cried.

At that moment the young servant entered the
door. He stopped short on seeing his master, and
when he saw the work in his hands a deep flush
dyed his face.

" What is this? " cried the artist. " Tell me what
great artist has hidden his masterpiece here? "

" O master," faltered the astonished boy, " it is
only my poor work. You know you said I might
have the broken bits you threw away."

His artist soul had wrought this wonderful re-
sult. The fragments of Hfe have in them life's mo-
saic. Not the broken bits of a kaleidoscope, but
the masterpiece under the hand of God.

173

lie
id
sh

is
ht

e-
o-

Llt

Every soul is a celestial venus to every other soul. The
heart has its sabbaths and jubilees in which the world appears
as a hymeneal /east and all natural sounds and the circle of
the seasons are erotic odes and dances. Love is omnipresent
tn nature as motive and reward. Love is our highest word
and the synonym of God. Every promise of the soul has in-
numerable fulfilments. Each of its Joys ripens into a new
want. Nature, uncontainable, flowing, forelooking, in the
first sentiment of kindness, anticipates already a benevolence
which shall lose all particular regards in its general light.
The introduction to this felicity is in a private and tender re-
lation of one to another f which is the enchantment of human
life; which, like a certain divine rage and enthusiasm,
seizes on a man at one period and works a revolution in his
mind and body. Unites him to his race ; pledges him to the
domestic and civic relations ; carries him, with new sympathy,
into nature ; enhances the power of the senses ; opens the
imagination ; adds to his character heroic and sacred attri-
butes ; establishes marriage and gives permanence to human
society. — Emerson.

And now abideth faith, hope, and love ; these three, but
the greatest of these is love. — Bible.

173

VII

LIFE'S LAW

Love shortens time, conquers the impossible,
and defies death. Love is the keyword of Hfe. It
unlocks the chest in which all the jewels of char-
acter are kept. Within the four corners of this
four-lettered word is the " fulfilment of the law."
" Simon, Son of Jonas, lovest thou Me? " strikes
at the very centre of a man's heart. That is the
most searching of all questions. Its answer makes
complete revelation. Belief, profession, and even
action are sometimes surface and shallow. This is
vital and the plummet which fathoms the depths.
One of the most tragical scenes of all history is
that of Rizpah, the noble-hearted, heroic mother,
sitting on the rock of Gibeah for five long, weary
months at the foot of the cross which held the
'forms of her two sons. She fell upon sackcloth
and kept that continuous and superhuman vigil un-
der the burning rays of noonday sun and deadly

174

■

LIFE'S LAW

dews of the midnight; from April to October the
beasts and birds and all enemies were driven away.
Not one moment did sleep compel her to betray
her trust. Vulture and jackal were disappointed,
and lost their prey. The traveller paused before
this strange, sad spectacle and passed on to fcget
the suffering and heroism of the broken-hearted
mother. These two youths had been sacrificed by
the enemies of the father, Saul, and a mother's de-
votion fastened her by unseen shackles to them
even in death. Whatforceinhumanity rendered that
sublime endurance possible? That one transcend-
ent word in the language is the only explanation —
Love. It is the element which alone can live in
the desolation of the rock, the harshness of the
sackcloth, the heat of the summer, the chill of the
night, the loss of rest, and the strain of nerve. It
defies all opposition and mocks its enemies. It is
king if it wills to hold the sceptre. It stands by
the side of broken health, and bankruptcy, and
empty cradle, and green mound, and every condi-
tion of human life, and reveals its supremacy. It is
the only explanation of the power of endurance and
the wiUingness of sacrifice. It lightens labor, and
pushes the hands of the clock, and forces forgetful-

175

LIFE'S LAW

ness of self, and even brushes away the fever from
the burning brow. It challenges enemies and
makes the impossible possible.

Upon one of the Orkney Islands an eagle swoops
down and lifts a child to its eyrie far up the moun-
tain-side. With the leap of a deer and the spring
of a panther, the mother mounts heighth above
heighth, and crag above crag, and overcomes
every obstacle. She reaches the side of her child.
She clutches its destroyer and, with the power of
a giant, she hurls this wild, fierce king of the birds
down the mountain-side with broken wing. Love
empowered her to surpass the ordinary possibility
of human strength. It entered into every vein and
artery of her human form and transformed a moun-
tain into a mole-hill.

It was declared years ago that no steamer could
make the voyage from Alexandria to London in
eight days; that it was an absolute impossibility, be-
cause no steamer had ever even approached that
time. But a telegram came to a steamer's captain,
saying, " Lucy is worse; hurry home." It was ac-
complished in less than eight days. Great love in-
creased the steam and the power of machinery
and pushed every billow out of the pathway and

. 176

LIFE'S LAW

brushed aside the winds and shouted, ** On! on! '*
until the destination was reached. No power in
the world moves by the side of love. It goes ahead.
Love is the familiar word of the child. The babe
first lisps it and illustrates its meaning in the kiss
and embrace of its pure devotion and affection. It
is almost the first word upon human lip, but the
greatest intellect has never fathomed its meaning
or ventured a definition. The most critical insight
and vision stand blind before it. It is like other
familiar words without definition. Who can de-
fine some monosyllables? Love stands between
God and man, and all these terms are too much for
our understanding. The highest wisdom is that
which loves most, and the most acceptable wor-
ship at heaven's throne is love. Definition can
never deny to it the greatest power in the world
and the first place even in the heart of God, Reason
beholds it in silence and answers not. We can tell
what it does, but not what it is. It banishes fear,
it controls conscience, it creates peace, it strength-
ens faith, it is the author of hope, and it touches
with master-stroke every part of human character.
It transforms the outside world until the howling-
winds become musical, and darkness brings out the

177

t I

LIFE'S LAW

stars, and the storm's increasing strength and the
blackest clouds are circled with gorgeous tints.
Rainbows are not so much in the far-away dis-
tance as in the near-by condition of the human eye.
In the warmth of love, winter changes into spring,
and every human faculty is made to blossom and
change its rough exterior into emerald glory.
Some things which are even rigid and unattractive
are clothed with brightness and beauty when placed
in the atmosphere of love. Love is life. We live
in proportion as we love. We want to live simply
because we love. We possess a thing when we love
it. There is no other ownership. This great fact
is not even contradicted when it touches person-
ality. There is no falsehood in saying " God is
mine " — if the conditions are fulfilled. A man
owns his art if he loves it. He owns his trade, and
books, and friends only when he loves them. He
does not secure these rich possessions, the gold-
mines of earth, by merely honoring duty. Love is
more than duty. Duty is only a part of love. Most
men are more familiar with the word duty than
they are with the great sweeping meaning of love.
The one is written in the Bible five times; the other
hundreds of times. Love is a fountain; duty is a

178

LIFE'S LAW

pump-handle. Duty is cast-iron molded according
to pattern, but love is the result of life. Yes, love
is the germ of life; it is spontaneous and free. The
famous soldier at the gates of Pompeii, standing at
his post to be buried beneath the lava of the burn-
ing mountain, is a magnificent illustration of fidel-
ity to duty, but it is not the ideal of life. True
service is only prompted by love. No man can
serve himself, his fellow men, or his God, who does
it according to rule, and is content to live at that
unsatisfactory point. Florence Nightingale did
her duty, but it was the compulsion of a love which
rendered it the most sacrificial and helpful service.
A farthing in the divine economy is worth more
than a million if the hand of love carries it. The
highest education is to learn to love the best things,
to love truth, and character, and humanity, and
knowledge, and every virtue, and our occupation.
Every man can be an artist just where he is if, in
the spirit of love for his work, he transforms drudg-
ery into art. The man who loves his work makes
his work live. It is the life-giving force to it. Can-
nibals murdered the missionary Williams, but the
islands of the sea stand as his monument. No knife
could be thrust into the heart of his work. Agas-

179

LIFE'S LAW

siz, when a child in Germany, studied the frogs
and creeping things in a small pond near his home
and learned a love for the things of nature. He
studied flies, and spiders, and insects until he had
a passion for such knowledge. He loved his in-
vestigation and no one could change the course
of his life. They atte ipted to make him study law,
but his great love ran to natural science, and in face
of greatest opposition, accepting sublimest sacri-
fice, his early and increasing love gave him one
of the highest thrones in the scientific world. The
great landscape painter of America, West, when
a small boy, pulled the hairs out of the cat's tail
tc make a brush, and fell in love with his art. His
parents and friends did not wish him to be a
painter, but his art conquered their determination,
and the hands of love have now placed his paint-
ings upon the walls of the Capitol at Washington,
and in the palace of England, and the galleries of
the world. It is not rules, or even examples, which
make greatness. Love may even destroy rules and
go contrary to all precedent, and yet be victor.
Ruskin says that some cue asked Haydn the reason
for a harmony — for a passage being assigned to one

instrument rather than another, but all he ever an-

i8o

LIFE'S LAW

swered was, " I have done it because it does well."
Haydn had agreed to give some lessons in
counterpoint to an English nobleman. " For our
first lesson," said the pupil, already learned in the
art — drawing, at the same time a quatrain of
Haydn's from his pocket — '' for our first lesson,
may we examine this quatrain, and will you tell me
the reasons of certain modulations which I cannot
entirely approve, because they are contrary to the
principles?" Haydn, a little surprised, declared
himself ready to answer. The nobleman began,
and, at the very first measures, found matter for
objection. Haydn, who was habitually the con-
trary of a pedant, found himself much embarrassed,
and answered always: '* I have done that because
it has a good effect." " I have put that passage there
because it does well." The Englishman, who
judged that these answers i)roved nothing, recom-
menced his proofs and demonstrated to him by
very good reasons that this quatrain was good for
nothing. " But, my lord, arrange this quatrain
then to your fancy. Play it so, and you will see
which of the two w"ys is the best." ** But why is
this the best which is contrary to the rules? " " Be-
cause it is the pleasantest." Haydn at last lost pa-

i8i

LIFE'S LAW

V i
i <

tience and said, " I see, my lord; it is you who
have the goodness to give lessons to me, and, truly,
I do not deserve the honor." The partisan of rules
departed, still supposing that in following the rules
to the letter one can infallibly produce a " Matri-
monial Segreto." Love in the musician's soul is
the power which may not go contrary to rules, but
works above them and still in them. It seizes upon
great principles and works miracles without de-
stroying law. Love in music, and all other parts
of the world writes in large letters the names of
certain men, because it, through them, fulfilled the
law. Love is the highest law and the miracle-
worker of the world. There is no real success pos-
sible in any department of life apart from its con-
trolling power. Rules are useful for smaller men,
but love is sufficient for great men. There is no
exception to this mighty principle in the world.
At its throne all fame and success have been
humble and constant worshippers. No other ele-
ment could ever brave and conquer the storms and
obstacles in the path to greatness and glory.

The great composer Mozart struggled with
poverty almost to the point of despair and to the
end of life. He was always following up the spectre

i8a

LIFE'S LAW

of want; he worked day and night and startled the
world by the quality of his symphonies, operas, and
sonatas, and yet was unable to secure medicines for
his sick wife or necessary food for his own failing
strength. When the audience carried him home
they might rather have given him bread. At the
time of his death his sorrowing wife was left with-
out a farthing, and could not pay for his coffin.
Some sentimental tears came, but no money. His
funeral was one of the most pathetic scenes ever
witnessed, because only five people were present
besides the priest and the pall-bearers. The little
group of mourners shivered in the rain at the
church door. Evening was fast approaching and
the weather was too much for the mourners, and,
one by one, they disappeared until only the driver
accompanied the body and carried it to the " third-
class " graveyard. The grave-digger and one old
woman — the official mendicant of the place — were
the only ones there. Being told that this was only
a band-master, she said: "Then I have no more
money to look for to-day. Musicians are a poor
lot. Better luck to-morrow." Then his body was
thrust into the top of a grave already occupied by
two paupers. This was an appropriate ending to

LIFE'S LAW

the straining struggles of the whole life of this child
of genius, but love had brought life to his music
and conquered the extremity of poverty. The
sweetest music in the world has been made under
the touch of love out of the notes of want, and dis-
appointment, and sorrow, and even the pangs of
pain. Every law of success is fulfilled by love.

This great truth has its application also to soci-
ety. One of the demands in society which is push-
ing its way to the front in these days is the saving
element of service. Its sister word receives a due
proportion of attention and eriphasis until every
vocal chord sounds it — sacrifice. Both are funda-
mental in the uplifting of the social world. They are
not only revolutionizing but regenerating in their
effect. Their coming as mighty factors in our civil-
ization has not been sudden, but the centuries have
been their forerunners. They have more power
to-day than ever before, and a power which carries
the prophecy of continuance and increase. This
sacred obligation to serve and to sacrifice is bear-
ing down more heavily upon riches and strength,
but there is an element in the salvation of society
which is beneath all others and out of which every-
thing of value and power must spring. It is the

184

LIFE'S LAW

very soul, aye, more, the very seed from which sac-
rifice and service and their kind must grow. Love is
most powerful and lasting of all. It is fundamental.
It is the one force which is essentially elemental. It
carries the germ of all real life-giving factors in
society. It is the destroyer of enmity, the creator
of harmony, the preserver of the individual in his
society, and the author of a society of individuals.
It has the power to transform competition into co-
operation and to force exception to the reigning
rule of the survival of the fittest. The ideal is the
brotherhood of love, under the fatherhood of God.
Two great laws in which all others are included
c.re love for God and love for man, but it is possible
to condense all law still more and make one word
of it. Love for God demands love for man, and
there can be no love for man without love for God;
dropped into the crucible again, the pure gold is
broufi^hi out and called " Love." He who desires
to do good in the world must begin with love for
humanity born of love for God. Discord is driven
away under this dominant note. Separation is
bridged by this spirit. The sunshine of love makes
most fragrant and snow-white Hlie.«' to grow out of
the swamps of the world. Our century is not mak-

185

LIFE'S LAW

1 t

ing its triumphal march because of education, or
the victories of war, or invention, or investigation,
or the material implements in civilization, but in
the binding of men and nations together by tiic
bonds of love. In this is rejoicing, and hope, and
peace, and prosperity. Love will break the imple-
ments of war, and tear down jails, and silence quar-
rel, and usher in the glad day of universal brother-
hood.

The home is at the foundation of society, and love
is the only thing which makes any home of earth
beautiful and attractive. Money fails where love
succeeds. The greatest factor in the life of the
home is love, not the rod. The engine-room of
every factory should be in the human heart. The
upward march must be toward love, and that is the
characteristic of our present civilizing agencies and
movements. Popular discontent and turmoil can-
not be overcome by culture, or refinement, or edu-
cation, or even philanthropy. There is only one
remedy; the Sermon on the Mount, and the Golden
Rule, and the sum of all the commandments —
brought with living force into the every-day activi-
ties, and difficulties, and competitions, and struggles
of life. The want of power on the part of the com-

LIFE'S LAW

mon people to see the beauty in life and the world,
and to discover the charm of the simplest things
is not an important factor in the solution of the
burning problems of society. The word culture
is written too large. Poverty and riches will al-
ways exist side by side in their every relation to
each other as long as the world and human nature
are as they now stand. The improvement lies in
the relation to each other. The secret of content-
ment and happiness is in the sacrifice and service of
love. The culture that society needs at top, and
bottom, and all the way through is the culture of
love. The disease of the heart is not cured by
surface treatment. The cause must be fearlessly
faced and understood and removed. Superior cul-
tivation has often been famous for immorality. In-
telligence has often increased tyranny. There is a
more subtle element essential for the betterment of
human conditions, and the establishment of peace,
than fine arts, or a?sthetics, or literature. He is a
dreamer who suggests it, and is asleep to the real
condition of the thousands within touch of the star-
vation point. Love alone meets the demand with
reason and courage. The pathway to usefulness
lies up the slope and by the cross. There is an

187

LIFE'S LAW

■

f- i

evangel of dying love which secures for society that
which no other element can furnish. No relief was
ever given to the poor except the relief of love.
No enmity was ever effectually destroyed except
by the hand of love. No sorrow was ever lessened
or burden lightened except by love.

That which is unquestionably true of success and
society is also true of salvation. The divine Saviour
of men was willing to rest the whole future of His
kingdom upon one simple word. It was not a
question of creed, or pledge, or law. It was the one
demand of personal love. The only security He
asked of His disciples was the security of their love.
A deathless love would conquer all opposition.
" Lovest thou Me," revealed the whole future.
Peter might break a promise when he faced a jail
door or a cross, but he never could break with
love. In that was the certainty of service, and
sacrifice, and ultimate victory. When was genuine
love ever conquered? Never! The armies of the
world could vanquish an army of Peter's with
drawn swords, but all the military forces in the
kingdoms of earth could not overcome the love in
a single soul. What supreme wisdom in the Christ

to understand this deep secret and move contrary

188

LIFE'S LAW

to all the powers of the world! Simple love was to
save the apostles and to save their world. Its
triumphant march has not disappointed the heart
of the Christ. Systems of theology, elaborate or-
ganizations, magnificent buildings, perfect meth-
ods, are all artificial. The controlling power of the
attachment of personal love to a personal repre-
sentative of God's goodness and holiness and per-
fection. Man can be made perfect only in the sim-
plicity and naturalness of this method. Perfect
love, perfectly lived, is the secret. It is not mys-
tery. It is revelation easily understood and made
clearer by a thousand illustrations. This impulse
in the heart of man was called by Christ a new
commandment. It found its novelty in being a
spirit which worked from within, and forced men
to cross oceans, and climb mountains, and brave
dangers, and face death, to give and spend of self
for the sake of others. In the early hours of this
new history, as the heroes were slain by cruel hands,
other heroes instantly arose to take their place, and
startled the old historians into momentary par-
alysis. The pen refused to make its way through
such astounding mystery. They could not discover

laws which demanded such obedience. They

i8()

•

LIFE'S LAW

learned that obedience was now trusted to a prin-
ciple, to the very substance of life itself. Love was
the fulfilment of their law. It was not hindered in
its manifestation even by unworthiness. The pure
love of the founder of Christianity which came to
save sinners was the conquering impulse in His fol-
lowers. It was the spectacle of love's descent. It
descends without defilement. It is the only preser-
vation from the impurity of the world and the with-
ering forces about the heart, from the shrivelling and
benumbing environment into which we are thrust.
Christianity is the only religion based on love. It
encircles every moral obligation and every path of
duty. The law is not destroyed, but dignified and
exalted. It is not a religion of fear, or idolatry, or
Pharisaism. The only question over the doorway
to the Church of Christ is, " Lovest thou the Son
of God? " That is profound, and sweeping, and all-
inclusive. Creed is partial and unjust, and does not
carry everything essential. It may even be outside
of any relation to the heart. There are few formu-
lated theologies, but many Christians. Love is
prophetic insight, and sympathetic touch and un-
broken relation with everything pure, and true, and

190

]

I i

[
III

i^'

LIFE'S LAW

lovely. Answer that question honestly and you
have answered all.

The heart has now unveiled its secret, and that is
the essence of religion. That forced the cry from the
lips of Matthew Henry, " I would count it a greater
happiness to gain one soul to Christ than moun-
tains of silver and gold to myself." That holy im-
pulse made John Knox agonize in prayer, " Oh,
God, give me Scotland, or I die." It was said that
every word of some of Webster's great speeches
weighed pounds, but every word of love's expres-
sion can never be balanced upon human scales.
Richard Sheridan said, '* I go to hear Rowland Hill
because his heart is red-hot with love." Dr. John
Mason declared that the secret of Chalmer's success
was the blood-earnestness of his heart. The Chinese
convert knew what would save the heathen world
when he said, " We want men with red-hot hearts
to tell us of the love of Christ."

" Go consult the Wiseacres," some one said to
the young man who was anxious to make his life
tell most for good.

Solomon Wiseacre — they called him ** Uncle
Sol " familiarly — said: " Young man, sharpen your
wits so that you won't dare to draw your finger

191

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-S)

1.0

I.I

*- ill

|5 '"

i^llM

M 112 5

12.2

m =

2.0

1.8

1.25 1.4

1.6

' — ^

^ 6" _

►

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. MS*0

(716) 873-4S03

4jy

V €?,

' !

LIFE'S LAW

across the edge. Then you'll cut your way through
the knottiest problems. Brains rule in this world."

The young man held his wits on the college
grindstone for four years until they were as keen
and polished as a Damascus blade. But with all
his vigor of intellectual grasp on the truth, some-
thing seemed lacking. Men admired the truth he
so clearly presented, but did not give a quick and
hearty response to its demands. So he came back
to his advisers.

The second Wiseacre, Jehu — better known as
"Uncle Hustler" — spoke: "What you need is
more energy. It is the men of tremendous vitaHty,
the men who can push their purposes hard, that
control other men. Earnestness is the watchword.
Go back and try hustling."

Then the young man went at it like a steam-
engine. He would win success by sheer force of
personality. But, while this accomplished more
than his clear-cut logic, yet people seemed to be
drawn after him rather than after the truth. He
still craved the power that would enable him to
get close to them and touch their lives for good.
So again he sought the Wiseacres.

This time it was Charity Wiseacre who spoke.

192

LIFE'S LAW

" My dear fellow, sit down and cross your right
leg over your left knee. Now tell me what makes
your right foot jump so every second. It is the
power of heart-throbs; and that is the power that
moves the world. It was not the keenness of Jesus'
intellect, though none, surely, could boast a keener;
nor was it the intense power of his unique person-
ality that moved and still moves the multitudes, so
much as the fact that he himself was moved with
compassion for them. Go out and try heart-power,
my boy."

The thought of his Master stirred the heart of
the young worker with a profound, pitying love for
men, and when he sa\v them again it was as though
a new pair of eyes had been given him. There
was something in them that appealed to his sym-
pathies, and they began to draw to him as to a
magnet. " Surely," said he to himself, " not intel-
lect, nor push, but love, is the greatest thing in the
world."

When Cromwell was to undertake the difficult
task of conquering England for God and the people
by destroying tyranny and dethroning the unright-
eous king, he went to Parliament and said: " I want
fio more of this army. I want some few men who

193

>3 '

LIFE'S LAW

make a conscience of what they do. I want some
few men who are conscientious enough to perform
their duties from motives of the heart. I want men
who love God; not men who love Him a little, but
they who love Him much." He demanded that
these men be examined as to whether they loved
God or not, and when they found a man ready to
face death because of his love for God and human-
ity, they placed him in the ranks. He was greatly
outnumbered by his opponents, but he established
the liberty of England. Love wrought the mighty
miracle. Washington was asked by General Lee
if he had the least idea that he would be able to
hold out ao-ninst England. Lee was in favor of
giving up the cause and of appointing commis-
sioners between the English army and Washing-
ton, but Washington said, " Not while the Ameri-
cans love their army." This was the creator of
their astonishing bravery, and true bravery can
never be defeated. The snows and hardships of the
severest winter could not thwart the holy purpose
of love. Napoleon's soldiers, it is said, loved their
cannon and called them by the sweet names of their
mothers, and wives, and lovers. They regarded
them as their protectors, and would even kiss them.

194

LIFE'S LAW

They carried them as tenderly as a child throug-h
the snows and over the dangers of the Alps, and
when they reached the border-line of that perilous
campaign, Napoleon said to one of his generals,
" While these men love their cannon like that, we
can safely put them in the front ranks." No one of
these cannon was ever captured by the enemy.
Love, even for these material things, could not be
defeated. This is the mighty force which is estab-
lishing the kingdom of God in the earth. It has
taken on a new meaning and a new power. It
leads the missionaries and heralds of the cross into
the darkest heathenism, and the greatest sacrifice,
and certain peril, and almost inevitable death.
Fevers, and wild beasts, and blood-thirsty natives
cannot frighten the followers of love's supreme
illustration. Thousands of martyrs have given
their dying testimony to its resistless power. They
can fasten the two Scottish women to the stakes
which stand between the high and low water-mark.
The advancing tide passes over the elder woman's
head without forcing her to renounce her love for
Christ. The sight was beyond description, but the
courage of the survivor never failed. She sang of
her love until the water choked her, when she was

LIFE'S LAW

released and given a last chance to yield, but
true to a never-dying love, she refused, and was
drowned.

" From the crowd
A woman's cry, a very bitter cry, dinna ye drown,
Gie in, gie in, my bairnie; gie in and tak' the oath."

And still the tide flowed in and drove the people
back and silenced them. She sang the Psalm, " To
Thee I lift my soul; " the tide flowed in, and rising
to her waist, " To Thee, my God, I lift my soul,"
she sang; the tide flowed in, and rising to her
throat, she sang no more, but lifted up her face,

" And there was glory over all the sky,
And there was glory over all the sea,

A flood of glory.
And the lifted face swam in it
Until it bowed beneath the flood,
And Scotland's noble martyr went to God."

The pages of history are crowded with illustra-
tions of love's power as wonderful and sublime as
that. All things fail and fall, but love never fails
and never dies. The world may burn into a cinder,
and the stars fall from their settings, and the whole
universe become disorder and ruin, and love will

196

LIFE'S LAW

still be upon the highest throne in perfect security.
Love has eternity in it.

The secret of Christianity is that love is the
maker of character, and we come to be like that
which we love. The law is as stringent and as
binding as the law of gravity. Most men love
goodness in order to be good. Christ is the mani-
festation of perfect goodness, and to love Him is
the transformation of character. Our relation to
Him is the index of our present state and the
prophecy of our future. Love is the author of ^^ur-
pose, and energy, and devotion, and obedience.

" If a man love Me," and every man can finish
the sentence. It is inevitable. If Peter loves there
need be no anxiety about the lambs and sheep. All
the graces and activities follow this leadership.
" Love is the seraph, and faith and hope are but
the wings by which it flies." Love in this world
never reaches its best in beauty or fruitage. The
seasons are too short. There is too much frost in
the spring, and the leaves wither early in the
autumn. It is dwarfed and stunted, but there is a
promise of another season after the world's winter.
The life is in the root. It will blossom and bear
fruit in the garden of God. Preserve and care for

197

LIFE'S LAW

the root, even though it may seem Hfeless and use-
less. It is life's richest possession. Treasure it and
beautify it, and see the stamp of eternity upon it.
Go to the manger and whisper it. Enter the car-
penter-shop and write it upon the bench. Pause
under the olive-trees, and read it in the crimson
marks. Stand at the foot of the cross and behold
the four letters in the blood of the Saviour of the
world, one at the top, one at the bottom, one upon
the right hand, and one upon the left, — L-O-V-E.

198

I *

5e-

it.
ir-
se

Dll

1(1
le
)n

Then welcome each rebuff
That turns earth's smoothness roughs
Each sting that bids, not sit nor stand, but go.
Be our joys three parts pain
Strive and hold cheap the strain

Learn nor account the pang ; dare never grudge the throe,

— Browning.
Here bring your wounded hearts
Here tell your anguish ;
Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal,

— Moore.
Now let us thank the Eternal Power convinced
That Heaven but tries our virtues by affliction.
That oft the cloud which wraps the present hour
Serves but to brighten all our future days.

— John Brown.
The good things which belong to prosperity are to be
wished, but the good things that belong to adversity are to be
admired. — Socrates.

Prosperity is not without many fears and disappointments;
and adversity is not without comforts and hopes. — Baker.
Sweet are the uses of adversity
Which like the toad, ugly and venomous^
Wears yet a precious Jewel in his head.

—Shakespeare.

199

r :

I ;

VIII

LIFE'S PAIN

The king of dramatists wrote the Book of Job,
and brought it to the last act like a master of his
art. The hero of the tale does not rise to the elo-
quence of his God, but comes at last to a whisper.
Glory encircles the result of his intense suffering
and silences the cry of pain, when he humbly smites
his breast and says, " I know that Thou canst do
everything." It may be whisper and muffled tone,
but that is the eloquence of religion; that is the
answer to every pang of pain; that is harmonious
music on the repaired chords of the soul. A right
view of God is essential to a right understanding
of life. He can do everything, but the impulse is
eternal love. God is Almighty, but it is the al-
mightiness of love. This is the conclusion of experi-
mental religion, and not of intellectual religion.
This is the wrought-iron which cannot be broken.

200

LIFE'S PAIN

}

This great truth is elemental in the solution of the
problem of pain.

A celebrated artist painted Napoleon crossing
the Alps; it was very beautifully and skilfully exe-
cuted, and won for him the highest praise from the
public. Napoleon was seated on a fine white horse,
which proudly pranced along with head erect and
with dilated nostrils, while the soldiers had bright
uniforms and their muskets and cannon shone and
glittered as if on dress parade. Napoleon, when
shown the picture, remarked about the beauty of it,
but said: " It does not tell the truth, for instead of
riding a white horse, I sat on a mule, and the sol-
diers' uniforms, cannon, and musketry were soiled,
torn, broken, and altogether they presented a most
deplorable condition." The painter had sacrificed
truth for beauty.

Pain is one of the chief elements in the composi-
tion of human life. We must not sacrifice the fact
for the sake of desire. Facts are stubborn things,
but wisdom and heroism never ignore them. The
fact of human pain is ever before us the most stub-
born. We cannot deny it. To attempt such folly
is neither philosophy nor religion. There is no
victory in denial of man's sorrows in life's economy.

201

!'^

1 p

l'^

f- '

Hi ^

LIFE'S PAIN

SiifferinpfS are real, and ten thousand witnesses
agree together. The pallid face, the tottering step,
the weakening shoulder, the wrinkled brow, the
contorted limb, the blind eye, and palsied hand bear
unchallenged testimony. The heart's pain is car-
ried in every expression and motion. It is the science
of a madman to question the stern reality. As man
goes up toward kingship he goes toward the possi-
bility of pain. As sensitiveness increases, capacity
to sufYer increases. The lower the animal life the
less of pain until it reaches the vanishing point,
while in man it attains its full strength. In the
highest and most cultivated nature is found the
climax of ability to suffer. As manhood increases,
this possibility augments. He stands at the sum-
mit of the animal creation and his mechanism of
nerves subjects him to the greatest ravages of dis-
ease and sorrow. One of the penalties of getting
nearer to God is susceptibility to pain. Pain has
enveloped some lives and, apparently, left them
without the brightness of a single gleam of hope.
Cloud after cloud, and the whole horizon covered.
Pain, through heredity, and accident, and igno-
rance, and strain, and even self-sacrifice, has been
their birthright. Physical suffering, intellectual suf-

202

•^

LIFE'S PAIN

fering, and heartache to the breaking point. Affec-
tions strained and mind worried within a house
falling to pieces.

There are so many sources and springs of pain
in human life. Even society gives the earnest and
sympathetic man moments of deepest suffering. He
appropriates its sorrows unto himself. He bears the
burdens of others according to the highest law of
the world. Poverty, and distress, and crime are
messengers from his world carrying pain to his life.
Even the home is a channel of sorrow as well as
of joy. If happiness is increased in the sanctity
of a good home, the possibility of sorrow increases
in the same ratio. You can purchase love only at the
hand of possible pain. Within the circle of the fire-
side stands the shadow of accident, and loss, and
suffering, and death. Years may pass by under the
brightness of a clear sky. The circle of the family
is unbroken and death is such a stranger that he
seems to be unreal, because unknown; but some
bright day the sky darkens and the clouds are trans-
formed into his black chariot, and his destination is
that home. The charmed circle is broken. Changes
are many, and startling, and rapid now in the family

record. The joy of the house is silenced, and the

203

pm^

LIFE'S PAIN

I!'

I i

colors of the wardrobe are changed. The romp of
the children is no longer heard, and life is a blank
without them. Oh! the pangs of pain at the
thought of the little grave; the tops, and strings,
and dolls stored away forever. No pain on earth
like that pain; it cuts the deepest and last the long-
est. There is no sound so sweet but the screw
of the casket grates through it. Human pain,
poignant and piercing, is destined in some form to
reach all men. Hopes withered, cradles emptied,
friendships fractured, resources vanished, health
broken, ideals unrealized, ambitions shattered, all
enter into the catalogue of the methods of pain; so
hard, so stern, so relentless, so severe. Many mem-
bers of the human family have not seen a well day
throughout life. They have worn a path in the
carpet from the couch and the chair to the medi-
cine-closet. The most familiar words in their vo-
cabulary are bottle, and draught, and spoon, and
glass, and powder, and pill; backache, headache,
sideache, heartache are the closest companions of
most men and women. The hardest battle is
against ill temper and irritability born of disease.
The whole road seems to be filled with obstacles

and the air charged with exhaustion. Digestion,

204

LIFE'S PAIN

and respiration, and motion are all on the up-grade
and there are stones on the track.

There are also the pains of poverty and the con-
stant cry of cut down, abridge, deny, privation,
give up, less, until every cup in the pantry is a cup
of bitterness. Appearances must be kept up and
reality covered up with a smile, but, oh! what a
fierce efifort to secure this result and manage the
finances of an ordinary home! The out-goings
overbalancing the income and pushing the honest
heart into anxiety. These conditions rise up like
ghosts to frighten, and make the daytime a mid-
night and the life a nightmare. The doctor's bill,
and grocer's bill, and the whole host of these ene-
mies of peace crowd about a human being and peck
at his poor body like a foul bird with the sharp
point of a bill.

Poverty made Shakespeare hold horses at the
theatre door before it would permit him to write
the immortal " Hamlet." It made Homer suffer
want as he wandered on the shores of Greece before
he could sing the " Iliad." It made Chantry, the
sculptor, drive a donkey with milk-cans on its back
before he carved beauty into the stone. It forced
Poussin to paint sign-boards on the road to Paris

205

LIFE'S PAIN

r !

before they hung his pictures on the gallery walls
of Paris. There is pain in some form and some
degree in every life.

There is a gravel in almost every shoe. An
Arabian legend says that there was a worm in Solo-
mon's staflf, gnawing its strength away; and there is
a weak spot in every earthly support upon which a
man leans. King George of England forgot all the
grandeurs of his throne because, one day, in an in-
terview. Beau Brummel called him by his first
name, and addressed him as a servant, crying,

" George, ring the bell! " Miss Langdon, honored
all the world over for her poetic genius, is so wor-
ried over the evil reports set afloat regarding her
that she is found dead, with an empty bottle of
prussic acid in her hand. Goldsmith said that his
life was a wretched being, and that all that want
and contempt could bring to it had been brought,
and cries out, "What, then, is there formidable
in a jail? " Correggio's fine painting is hung up
for a tavern sign. Hogarth cannot sell his best
painting except through a raffle. Andrew Delsart
makes the great fresco in the Church of the An-
nunciata, at Florence, and gets for pay a sack of

com.

206

LIFE'S PAIN

For this problem of pain nature furnishes no
answer. It is cold and unsympathetic, and gives to
the nerve and the tree the same conditions and the
same care. Neither is logic an angel to lead us out
of the darkness. There must be a moral secret un-
der the whole programme and movement of life.
In one of the German picture galleries is a painting
called " Cloud-Land." It hangs at the end of a
long gallery, and, at first sight, it looks like a great
daub of confused color with neither form nor
beauty, but, as you walk toward the picture, it be-
gins to take shape to itself. A mass of exquisite
little cherub faces is discovered. If you come close
to the picture an innumerable company of little
angels and cherubim is seen. The clouds of pain
are transformed into angel faces by a nearer and
better vision. There is a higher meaning in pain
to be discovered. There is a divine philosophy un-
derneath all suffering. Wherever it exists sin also
exists. The cause and explanation for which men
seek may lie remote from the real organ of disease.
All pain, and suffering, and tears flow from the one
fountain whose eternal name is " Sin."

Pain is causal, not casual. It is not accidental,
but necessary. It should never be regarded in any

207

'] I

!■ 1

f i

LIFERS PAIN

other light than a part of the divine plan. It is
from the laboratory of the great Physician, and is
medicine for the soul's health, but it is medicinal
and healing only when taken from the hand
of God and according to His own prescription; not
when swallowed with a boldness which is only brute
courage. Why not make this world free from all
pain? Why not keep men eternal strangers to
aches? Why not have the family all remain to-
gether, and the family record tell the story only of
births and marriages, but not deaths? Why the
grave, the thorn, the storm, the cloud, the strug-
gle? Sufifering is a part of the divine idea. All our
faculties are subjects of pain as well as pleasure.
It is a twofold nature we possess, but both parts
are divine. Pain is an arrow from the bow of
God, not to kill, but to warn. God answers our
prayers for character by placing us on the anvil.
The sound of the hammer precedes the shaping into
higher things. The violinist does not destroy the
instrument when he screws up the key. It is not
to break the chord, but to make it sound the con-
cert-pitch. The child of God is not punished with
pain. That looks toward law. God's dealings with
His children look toward growth, character, and

208

LIFE'S PAIN

th
:h

culture. A child is not a criminal. His suffering
has no relation to violated law. It has a vital rela-
tion to character. The desire is not simply to reach
heaven. Blessedness is higher than happiness by
the whole diameter of heaven. Blessedness is the
result of holiness. That is the highest heaven; that
is the objective point in pain. It is an easy admis-
sion to declare that God is infinite and man is finite,
but it is not a part of metaphysics or theology sim-
ply when a man has been driven into it and speaks
with the force of experience and a united life. He
looks into a Father's face and recognizes suffering
as a bright angel on his holy errand of mercy and
blessing. He receives it as a seal of sonship. If
pain overtakes him in his deepest religious service
and strikes him down when he is on his way to
heaven, he can say this is the divine means to en-
large manhood and restore kingliness and God-
likeness. Most men have never learned the profound
truth that to live is better than to have. The world
is shouting with the hollow sound of wasted life
and broken logic, " Not to have is not to live." It
is a difficult task to keep the soul and body at an
equal height: " How hardly shall they that have

riches enter into the kingdom of heaven." The

209

I'! i'

LIFE'S PAIN

Si ^1

; 1

^. i

descendants of Jeshurun are not outside of the law
of heredity. They still kick when they wax fat. It
is a fatal mistake to suppose that circumstances are
of more consequence than life. Pain is the teacher
in life's school, and insists that the pupil shall learn
his lesson, and chastises him when necessary. Pain
is the guardian angel which stands by the side of
bruises and cuts and says, " Come not here." It is
a preventive and cautionary element in Hfe. It
furnishes the note of warning at the critical mo-
ment. Anguish follows disobedience for the
sublimest purpose. Death stalks in the path and
pain throws in his skeleton face the light so that
men may flee from excess and sin. It is a perilous
roadway over which we make the journey of life,
and suflfering reveals the precipices and chasms and
lovingly places a fence at the edge. T'lis" is the
meaning of thorns pricking, and nettles stinging,
and hedges scratching. If man is to graduate into
heaven and happiness he must pass through the
school and learn of the appointed teachers. The
goal is only reached by the pathway of sorrow. The
upward way is the way of adversity. Every crown-
ing point is some Calvary. Character and manhood
are the resultant of sufiFering and pain. Iron is less

2IO

LIFE'S PAIN

valuable than steel, but steel is only iron pushed
through the fire. Trees gather their toughness
out of the storms and winds. Manhood stands in
another forest, but under a similar law. Interpret
the meaning of suffering and you discover God's
goodness. Mercy is in the thorn as well as the
rose.

" Some time, when all life's lessons have been learned,
And sun and stars forevermore have set,
The things which our weak judgments here have spurned,
The things o'er which we grieved with lashes wet,
Wil ilash befo ^ us out of life's dark night,
As stars shine most in deeper tints of blue;
And we shall see how all God's plans are right,
And how what seemed reproof was love most true."

We read God*s sentences best when we read them
through our tears. A tear is a telescope through
which we see the distant and hidden stars. Time is
required for many an explanation. We cannot
speak fairly about a friend in a moment in which
he has caused us grief or anxiety. Let a man speak
who has passed the sorrow and seen something of
its purpose. The moment of anguish should be the
moment of silence. Wait; in the calm of the eve-
ning thought and feeling are vastly different from

211

I".

1 !

i ■ I

LIFE'S PAIN

the conditions of the heat at noon-tide. The cir-
cumstances of life and feelings of the heart are all
changed by the shifting scenes of time. The ques-
tions are temporary which we thrust in the face of
our trials. If the whole explanation lay within the
narrow circle of man's drawing no argument can
vindicate the larger part of life, but our pencils
draw lines too short and mark the circumference of
a small circle. The lines of God's map and the great
sweep of God's eternity are essential to right judg-
ment. We are too far away from some things to
see them as they are. There are no mountains on
the moon to naked vision, but nearness would re-
veal lofty peaks and deepest cafions. We need the
astronomer's view of life. If the enemy thrust his
sword of questioning and complaint at the heart
and threaten the very life, slay him with the sharp-
ened blade of time. In the next hour, or next year,
or even beyond the grave, miracles and revolutions
are to be wrought. Give God all the time He asks.
If you fail in this you will be drowned under the
cataract of question and be mangled in the whirl-
pool of unbelief. / The eye can see the sapphire^g lory
of the summer sky, but the lTarid_cann ot spoil or
stain this fair revelation of Go d's infinity. But as

212

LIFE'S PAIN

th e hand has its limit, so the ey e cannot pie rce its
bpundary^Jine. Our vision is limited . Our throat s
are jtuffedjwith unanswered _£r ayers and skept ical
guestions because of short-sightedness and im -
patience . The best elements in character are often -
times secured by circular processes . It may seem
a roundabout way, but God is after the result. If
we could, by imagining ourselves good, secure
goodness, this would be an easy method, but there
is an.^ther process. We must all go through the
mill. The green field of the springtime, with its
violent border, is brought into ruin by the cruel
plough. It appears as the work of a despoiler, but,
in God's economy, it is the first step toward the
golden harvest of autumn-time.

The owner of one of the finest diamonds in the
world brought it to one of the most skilful cutters;
a small black spot marred its beauty. He wanted
this cut out, and waited for the decision of the artist
whose skill and years gave him wisdom and right
of decision. He examined it and said: " The spot
lies in the girdle of the stone. If you wish perfect
proportion, and brilliancy, and color, I must de-
crease the size." So he set his emery wheels to

213

■1

LIFE'S PAIN

grinding it. It was decreased, but now it gleams
a rare and perfect gem of faultless radiance.

The whirling, p^rinding wheels of pain produce
the diamonds of character. This is true, not only
of a man's life but the life of the world. Under the
present conditions there can neither be character
nor civilization without pain. The battlefields, and
blazing fagots, and flowing blood are the sources
of liberty, and light, and salvation. The present
is the child born in the travail and sorrow of the
past. " That ye might be partakers of His holi-
ness," is forever the divine purpose. A man's
fortune may be in his pain and not in his posses-
sions.

Sorrow made Bunyan a dreamer; and O'Connell
an orator; and Bishop Hall a preacher; and Have-
lock a hero; and Kitto an encyclopaedist. The pit
was Joseph's pathway to a throne, and the lion's
den separated Daniel from the sceptre. The break-
ers of Melita were Paul's benefactors and the fire
was Polycarp's refiner. Angelo saw the block of
rough stone, but he saw the angel, and his hammer
and chisel struck hard and deep until the angel ap-
peared. The angels of faith, and hope, and love,
and peace, and patience, and service are all the re-

214

LIFE'S PAIN

suit of the chisel in the hand of the Great Artist.
The sweetest notes of music are drawn from the
keys by the hand which has first swept the
keys of sorrow. Its touch is seen in the grandest
painting, its charm is heard in the sweetest song,
and its power is recognized in the deepest thought.
The great poets, and painters, and orators, and his-
torians, and heroes of the world have been crippled,
and thwarted, and hindered all along the pathway
toward the goal.

Demosthenes, by patience and efifort almost su-
perhuman, conquered the lisp in his speech before
he reached the summit of human eloquence.
Stewart, the great painter, did his best work in
a dungeon where he was unjustly imprisoned.
Lord Byron and Sir Walter Scott limped through
life on club-feet. Lord Bacon was always in the
shackles of sickness. Alexander Pope was so much
of an invalid that he had to be sewed up every
morning in rough canvas in order to stand on his
feet at all. John Milton was blind, and Homer was
blind, and Ossian was blind, and Prescott, who
wrote " The Conquest of Mexico," never saw the
paper on which he was writing. They placed a
framework across the sheet through which the

215

LIFE'S PAIN

■ |!

immortal pen moved up and down. Payson was
an invalid, and Baxter was an invalid, and Ruther-
ford was an invalid, but they all suffered other tor-
tures than those which were purely physical. Dante
failed as a statesman before he wrote his divine
comedy. Luther suffered failure before he experi-
enced any triumph. For many years after Shakes-
peare's death his work was so little appreciated that
in 1666 there was only one edition of his works,
and that of only three hundred copies in existence,
and that edition was nearly all burned in the great
London fire, but forty-eight copies had been sold
out of the city, and those forty-eight copies saved
Shakespeare.

Broken in health, in bitter poverty, Elias Howe
sat by his young wife one day in their dismal lodg-
ing, not knowing from whence the next meal was
to come. As his wife sewed, suddenly the idea came
to him, what a saving of time and strength there
would be if a machine could do the work of her
fingers.

He went to work at once. In six months he
completed his first machine, which was about a
foot and a half high; but the tailors in Boston, to
whom he showed his model, laughed at it, or were

LIFE'S PAIN

afraid of it. Not discouraged by obstacles of every
sort, he finally took steerage passage for England,
cooking his own food on the way. In England he
gave the use of the machine to a London capitalist,
who turned him out as soon as he had learned to
use it.

Still undismayed, Howe pawned most of his
clothing for a supply of beans that barely kept soul
and body together, and again he spent four months
in making a machine, which he sold for twenty-five
dollars. Finally in poverty so severe that he drew
his baggage in a handcart to the vessel in which
he had secured his passage by engaging as steerage
cook, he returned to America. On landing in New
York he was overwhelmed by the news that his
wife was dying in Cambridge. He had not money
enough to go to her, but earned it in a machine- *
shop, and reached the one friend who had waited
and longed for his coming only a little while before
she died. And then he had to borrow a suit of
clothes in which to follow her to the grave.

The best trees in the orchard have been pruned.!
The grass on the lawn never looks so beautiful in \
its emerald glory as when the mower has just I
passed over it. God's mowing-machine makes /

J2I7 /

LIFE'S PAIN

beautiful and attractive the Christian graces. All
earth and heaven admire patience, but " it is the
trial of your faith which worketh patience." No
Paul ever wore golden slippers this side of the
gates of pearl, and no Lincoln was ever reared in
a king's palace. Hammer the bronze to make it
rare and beautiful. The discipline of the human
heart is the grandest work in which divine wisdom
and love are now engraved. The ripest and most
beautiful graces are grown only in the garden of
suffering. The divine hand places the silver in the
crucible and must hold it in the fire until he sees his
own image reflected in it. The brightest crowns
in heaven are for those whq^ liave maintained their
courage and faith amid failing strength and vanish-
ing nerve. Their heroism was not in the rush of
excitement, or sound of clashing arms, or daring
charge, or world's applause. A bold dash with
martial music as its inspiration is easy in compari-
son to the courage in face of the onslaughts of pain
with doctor and nurse only to witness and be help-
less.

In this sublime endurance, even unto the end,
was the crown of the Christ. Even He learned
obedience through suffering. I accept the fact that

218

LIFE'S PAIN

it was necessary that Christ should suffer, but
its secret lies in the bosom of God. I know the
word vicarious, but its meaning is in heaven's dic-
tionary. His pains were the sharpest and keenest
that ever forced their way into a human life. Not
a muscle or a nerve escaped. All the griefs of the
human family were pressed into His cup. All the
pains of hand, or foot, or brain, or heart racked His
sensitive body until the last cord snapped on Cal-
vary. Christ was the world's greatest sufferer, be-
cause He had risen highest and was the most
sensitive and most sympathetic.

Roll every grief of life on that sympathetic and
experienced heart. He declared His willingness and
anxiety to bear them for us.

A famous surgeon had a dangerous operation

to perform upon a child. He said to the father:

" I cannot perform the operation unless that boy's

whole soul shall brace him up through it. You

must explain it to him and get his full and free

consent, or he will die under the operation." The

father went in, and, as best he could, told the child

and asked if he could endure it. With blanched

face and trembling lips the child looked up and re-

219

S,.I

LIFE'S PAIN

plied. " Yes, father, I can if you will stand by me
and hold my hand." And he did.

When under the knife, clasp the hand of divine
love.

220

To go and lay h/e tnto the obedience of God as a diamond
lays Itself into the sunshine, that the mere surface brilliancy
may deepen, and region behind region of splendor be revealed
below-that does not seem to come into our thought-^
Phillips Brooks. ^

Take your vase of venice glass out of the furnace and
strew chaff over it in its transparent heat and recover that to
Its clearness and rubied glory when the north wind has blown
upon I/, but do not strew chaff ewer the child fresh from
Gods presence and expect to bring the heavenly colors back
to Htm, at least in this world.— Rvskin.

When I talked with an ardent missionary and pointed out
to htm that his creed found no support in my experience, he
replied, '< It is not so in your experience, but is so in the
other world- I answered, - Other worldP There is no
other world God is one and omnipresent; here or nowhere
ts the whole fact, ' '—Emerson.

221

II a:

1 1

, i

^ 1 1

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

There are two great laws which meet every hu-
man being upon the very threshold of life. The
law of heredity and the law of environment. Both
demand instant recognition, and each carries a
look to startle, if not to frighten. Blood and cir-
cumstances are not ordinary words in our vocabu-
lary. " Blood will tell," and, alas, it so often tells
the saddest of stories. Condition and surrounding
have such fashioning and almost fixing force that
they complete the biography, and oftentimes write
the last chapter of the tragic story.

The facts are so evident that there can be no
dispute. The greatest peril is that men carry the
truth to an extreme and write with it that false
word — fate.

Open eyes are speedy discoverers in this field
of observation. Even closed eyes learn the great
lesson of life in the school of experience. Every

222

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

man is acted upon and affected by that which moves
in the circle about him each day and each moment
of his Hfe. Information concerning the company
a man keeps is always information concerning the
man himself. An associate invariably stamps him-
self upon the life of his companion. Even a re-
fined and cultivated nature is completely changed
by this process. It has the power to debase the
highest, and transform refinement, and culture
into brutality and dissipation. A book, or a paper,
or a picture is effectual in elevating or lowering the
life into which it enters. No man ever walked
through an art gallery without carrying the gallery
away with him, and yet he was not a thief. No
man listened to a symphony of Beethoven or a crea-
tion of Haydn without absorbing rythm, and har-
mony, and heaven's own music, but the trash of the
common playhouse leaves its impress also. Light,
sensational literature makes light and frothy char-
acter. Solid and thoughtful reading is the author
of noble manhood and womanhood.

A man's mind in a book is like a sponge in the
water. Who is not affected by the day itself? A
cloudy, foggy world pushes its way into the soul.

A day when the king is on his throne in the sky

223

^i i

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

and seen in all his glory with the golden sceptre
above the head of man forces its way into every
word, and act, and attitude of the life. An east
wind is not a good forerunner of smiles. It is a
better companion of an unhealthy liver. Eyes for
beautiful scenery are the gateways for beautiful
thoughts and deeds. Who can be surrounded with
the glory of an ideal summer evening, — the fra-
grance of flowers never so sweet — the songs of birds
never so musical — the sunset never so heavenly —
the breezes never so balmy — the whole earth never
so homelike, — without being lifted toward the
upper world. It is so indisputably true that much
depends upon where a man lives. He is marked by
his dwelling-place. There are tenement men and
cottage men. The character is widely different.
The one wears a honeysuckle, and the other the
faded leaf of life. Where a man was born has
much to do with his whole career, — a cradle in the
slums is vastly different from the cradle on the
hillside, and the lullaby of all nature, and the odors
of heaven. Life is moulded and shaped by occu-
pation. The profession a man follows is stamped
unon him. Readers of character declare that they

\.o.n ell a man's business by seeing him on the

224

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

street. Not so much by the clothes he wears, as
the features he carries, and the moves he makes,
and the words he may chance to utter. Business
reacts to such a degree upon character and the
deep inner soul of life that it must be regarded as
one of the mightiest factors in life.

A black duck which could quack, but would not
swim, was hatched by a hen, and the only one of
the setting. When she saw that he was so different
from the downy chicks of the other hens she would
not feed or cover him, but pecked him and drove
him away. They were compelled to take him into
the house to save him from the fury of his foster-
mother. Thinking that, as he was a duck, he would
take naturally to the water, when he was a few days
old they offered him a bath in a basin.

But he refused to go into it, and when they put
him in he hurried out, squawking and flapping his
wings. When he was older the boys took him
with them to the pond when they went swimming,
but he would not swim or stay in the water. When
he was out in the yard and it began to rain he
rushed under shelter, shaking off the drops as if
they hurt him.

The duck lost in some way his aquatic nature.

225

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

Was this due to its indoor raising — its environ-
ment?

The Bengal tiger wears the stripes of his jungle,
and the fish in the Mammoth Cave lose their eyes
in the darkness, and the mole which insists upon
l:)urrowing in the ground shuts out the light of
day forever. Man lives in the same world and is
subjected to the same laws. A butcher is in the
awful peril of becoming brutal, and the records give
the astounding fact that a very large percentage of
the murders committed in society are from the
hands of the butchers. The familiar sight of blood
and the disregard of life brings this to pass. Men
who are employed in work of an exacting nature, de-
manding straight lines, and perfect curves, and true
mathematics are always men who, in other things,
even religion, insist in the reasonableness of the
plan and the certainty that it will fit the case ex-
actly, and be a compliment to their lives. They
must first see how the other half comes into place
when pressed against the semi-circle.

He who chooses the profession of law, or medi-
cine, or literature, or art, or music, or enters com-
mercial life, or learns a trade, ought not to be blind

to the fact that he has chosen one of the greatest

226

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

factors in his character and his destiny. That with
which he surrounds himself enters into every drop
of his blood, and into every part of his eternal life.
What then? Is a man's environment that which
makes him all that he is? After the inheritance of
his blood does this take possession of all his life and
his future. Some philosophers are so radical and
extreme that they would answer " Yes." Change
man's home, business, etc., and you change the
man. Transform his surroundings and you trans-
form the individual. Move him from a hovel into
a palace, and you have done all that is necessary.

Grass and trees, pictures and baths, are the
revolutionizing forces. There may be blessing in
all this, but not a power of regeneration. There is
not new life in things. The new creation of man-
hood demands something more than any or all of
these externals. Where nature remains the same,
the palace would be likely to assume the character-
istics of the slum and the tenement. A drunkard
or a thief would be apt to obey his appetite or ply
his trade in one with almost as great freedom as
in the other.

There are men in the finest mansions with unlim-
ited wealth who are almost as low as the animal in

2^7

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

'i I

^ !|

\l'

Mil

their beastliness and dissipation. There is advantage
in the better home, but it is not the supreme saving
force. There is great opposition in low or evil sur-
roundings, but they are not sufficient to claim un-
questioned power for the destruction of character
or the triumph over success.

There are two victorious elements in human
life — the will of man and the power of God. Next
to the omnipotence of God is the will of man. This
scatters the darkness which hangs like a midnight
in the environment of some men. This reveals the
shining possibility of success and the crowning of
manhood in every life. These are the hands on
the barred gates of opportunity which push back
the lock and swing the iron on its hinges to reveal
the gold on the other side of the gates, and the glit-
tering star of hope in the sky.

None of us dare say, " I have no chance," for we
all have the same chance that the world's greatest
and best men have enjoyed and often a better one.
Chances, plenty of them, fall under our eyes if we
only have eyes to see them and hands to pick them
up.

Richard Awkwright, the thirteenth child, in a
hovel, with no knowledge of letters, — an under-

2,28

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

ground barber with a vixen for a wife, who smashed
up his models and threw them out, — gave the spin-
ning-wheel to the world and put a sceptre in Eng-
land's right hand such as no monarch ever wielded.

A chance remark from a peasant girl, in an ob-
scure country district, falling upon the ear of young
Dr. Jenner, gave to the world vaccination, which
saves hundreds of lives annually.

The picking up of a pin in a Paris street by a
poor boy as he left a great bank discouraged by the
denial of his application for a place, was the begin-
ning of the successful career of one of the world's
greatest bankers. That simple act, illustrative of
the economical spirit asserting itself over present
grief, was observed from the window. The lad was
recalled and given a position. Industry, patience,
and honesty did the rest.

A pewter plate founded the great Peel family.
Robert, in the poor country about Blackburn, with
a large family growing up about him, felt that some
source of income must be added to the meagre prod-
ucts of his little farm. He began quietly conduct-
ing experiments in calico-printing in his home.
One day, picking up a pewter plate, from which
one of his children had just dined, he sketched upon

229

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

f I

;

it a parsley leaf, and, filling it with coloring matter,
found to his delight that it could be accurately
transferred to the cotton cloth. Here was the first
suggestion toward calico-printing from metal roll-
ers. This parsley leaf on the pewter plate opened
up a world of industry to Lancashire; and Sir
Robert Peel to this day is called in that neighbor-
hood " Parsley Peel."

Don't say you have no chance. Men uniformly
overrate riches and underrate their own will; the
former will do far less than we suppose, and the
latter far more.

I knew of a drunkard's son whose inherited ap-
petite was so strong that every effort to save him
was in vain. He was crazy for strong drink. If
kept from it, he would rave like a madman. He
died in a fit of delirium tremens, in early manhood.
But I knew another drunkard's son who hated the
very sight and smell of alcohol from his early boy-
hood. He never could be induced to taste the in-
toxicating cup. His radical teetotalism seemed to
be an instinct rather than a principle, and to be
intensified by the fact that his father had died a
drunkard.

Whence the difference in these two cases? In

230

I i

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

the former no influence was applied early to
counteract the hereditary tendency. In the latter
case there was a wise and loving mother. The
motherly environment was stronger than the alco-
holic taint. That taint was eradicated in the germ,
before it had time to grow into a morbid appe-
tite.

That is not the just explanation. She was rather
educating the boy's will ; a thousand times she
taught him to say " No " and to hate it and reveal
enmity to it.

It is safe to say that not one in a thousand wron^^-
doers ever meant to do wrong, or to act meanly, but
every one of the thousand is controlled, at times,
by something in his nature which he has failed to
master until it is nearly or quite impossible to do-
so.

Some of his friends had taunted Tennyson be-
cause he could never give up tobacco. " Anybody
can do that," he said, " if he chooses to do it."
When his friends still continued to doubt and tease
him, he said, " Well, I shall give up smoking from
to-night." He forthwith threw his pipes and to-
bacco from the window. The next day he was
charming, though self-righteous; the second day he

231

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

m ill

became moody; the third day no one knew what
to do with him. That night he went to the garden,
gathered up what tobacco he could, stuffed it into
a broken pipe, had a smoke, and regained his good
humor, after which nothing was said about his giv-
ing up smoking.

Much has been said and written about the web
of life — composed of tht warp and woof of heredity
and environment. One having the threads at right
angles with the other, and thus both forming the
pattern in the whole fabric. " The web of our life
is of mingled yarn, the good and the ill together."

Our ancestors, living and dead, stretch the warp
from end to end in the loom of Providence or
chance, call it which you will — it matters little —
for this warp is crossed by the threads of environ-
ment, and that is all. But spinning is quite as im-
portant as threads in any web, life, or a spider's
silken wonder. The shuttle is the human will. No
threads cross and recross without its silent but
sublime operation. " I will " pushes the thread and
sends it in a chosen direction. All men who have
become successful or who possess noble character
know that they are the earners of their own success
and the authors of their own character. They

i' I

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

never hesitated or waited for " luck " or " chance "
to drop fortune or morality at their feet as a free
and undeserved gift. That is the plan of shallow,
nerveless, shiftless, lazy folk. The man of energy
and grit of purpose and determination never utters
the folly of being a victim of fate or wastes value
in time and strength by complaining of ill luck
and the partiality of God. It is not happening to be
in the right place at the right time. There is a
pathway which always leads up to that point in life.
There may not always be a way where there is a
will, at least the way chosen by that will. There
are other elements in life. There is a difference in
talent and genius. Will power and industry can-
not overcome nature and make a Raphael or an
Angelo of every blacksmith, or a Beethoven out of
every grinder of a hand-organ, or a Demosthenes
out of a deaf and dumb boy, but it is a cause of
amazement to the observant and thoughtful man
how much opposition and how great a number of
obstacles can be overcome. Some acts of men in
this respect touch the border-line of the miracu-
lous. There have been triumphs won over an ap-
parently insurmountable obstacle, simply by the
power of an indomitable will. It is the annihilator

233

( ■

■

) / ■

1 ' (

•i; t:i

ill i;(

B' 'I Sit!'

S9 :.i!

];\

' ji

liii !

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

of fate. The conqueror's motto, " I will," has often
been mocked, but it was the smooth stone and felled
the giant.

Idle and dawdling men do not understand this,
and continue to murmur, but will is the jewelled
crown upon the brow of intellect. It is the golden
sceptre in the hand of genius. It is the king among
the faculties and the ruler of thousands of slaves.
Grant all the credit and honor possible to environ-
ment in hindering temporary power and success.
It still remains forever true that in the higher realm
of righteousness and character the will is the mas-
ter.

The more trying the circumstance sometimes,
the better the opportunity to develop true nobility.
No man is shut out of this highest success in life.
It is the peril of the rich and the idle to have
abundance and not need to toil. The best of life is
lost. This is the maker of weaklings, dwarfs, and
paralytics in the world of manhood and woman-
hood. In this time of sin the Graces demand for
their life the atmosphere of denial and hardship,
and even suffering and sorrowing. It is over all
this that the conqueror " Will " rides and demands
the badge of the victor.

a34

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

Dr. Edward Everett Hale says that when he
brought home his first report from the famous
Boston Latin School, it showed that he stood only-
ninth in a class of fifteen. " Probably the other
boys are brighter than you," said his mother. " God
made them so, and you cannot help that. But
the report says you are among the boys who be-
have well. That you can see to, and that is all I
care about."

It is not what a man does so much as how he
does it which deserves note and reward. The low-
liest task is elevated by this lever underneath it.
Yes, it is raised to the very throne of God. Indif-
ferent, careless, slip-shod, botched, and half-finished
work of any kind is the degradation of life. Not
what we do, but how we do it, is the question which
cuts to the core of the heart, and echoes in the
judgment. In the sample of what we do, reveals
the secret of what we are.

George Eliot, in " Middlemarch," was drawing
a picture from life when she described the gradual
collapse of Mr. Vincy's prosperity from the time he
began to use the cheap dyes recommended by his
sham religious brother-in-law, which were soon
found to rot the silks for which he had once been

235

■

1 1 ''

*,;[

,i '''

il!

i! ^

II I

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

so famous. On the other hand, the man who, like
Adam Bede, always drives a nail straight and planes
a board true, is the one whom men employ at good
wages, and who is the maker of his own fortune.

The Athenian architects of the Parthenon fin-
ished the upper side of the matchless frieze as per-
fectly as the lower side, because the goddess
Minerva would see that side also. An old sculptor
said of the backs of his carvings, which were out
of all possible chance of inspection, when re-
monstrated with for being so particular about them,
" But the gods will see them."

" In the elder days of art,
Builders wrought with greatest care,
Each minute and unseen part,
For the gods see everywhere."

Perfect environment is not sufficient, or the Gar-
den of Eden would not have been desecrated by sin.
Will power is mighty to the pulling down of evil
forces, and the building up of the good, but that
is not all of life's necessity.

Education even may increase the capacity for sin

and crime. It certainly is not such a preventive as

is generally supposed. Conscience must be de-

236

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

veloped to correspond with the sharpening of the
brain, or a man becomes more dangerous. " An
ignorant thief robs a freight-car. An educated
thief steals the whole railroad."

The man of almost iron will, the Duke of Wel-
lington, coming from victorious battlefields, and
being the hero of a Waterloo, said, " If you are
only going to educate the children, you are only
going to make clever devils of them." He recog-
nized the want of a more vital and regenerating
element, something to touch the very heart of the
man, nothing less than the presence and power of
God.

Almost overwhelming and yet brightest of all
thoughts is the revelation that a human being can
live in God. " In Him we live," before we really
live and triumph over blood and circumstances.
There is no more mystery about the fact of a man's
existence in God than there is about all life. It is
the unanswered question; the unsolved riddle. The
greatest thought of any man is, " Life in God:" All
other environment, good and powerful as it may
be, is partial, and only touches the surface. There
must be something to surround the very germ of
life at the core of the heart. If any man is con-

! ^!
It

!: . ■ i

!' li
i 11

i f

' i

ij
. 1

i 1

li :'!n

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

scientiously abiding in God he is master of his
world. This element of divinity remakes the man,
and that is better and more permanent than re-
moving his dwelling or changing his work. What a
false method is that which begins with the external
in order to reform the man. The beginning must
be with the man himself. This is not contradicting
or destroying the law of environment. It is em-
phasizing ' cnt? lifting it into a larger sphere. It
simply make? u. ,. to become the whole circle about
a man's life, and thus, his protector and Saviour.

The history oi Chosroes the blessed, the greatest
of the Sascanian Shahs, may be instructive here.

Through rash and inexperienced generalship his
armies were defeated with disaster, his empire was
invaded, his subjects were seduced into rebellion,
and from all quarters the alien Powers of Asia came
mustering to join his enemies and to compass his
final overthrow. " And day by day were the
Iranians weakened, for they were smitten with
great slaughter, and the number of their dead was
past counting." Then in the extremity of his dis-
tress and humiliation the Shah sent greeting unto
Rustem, his Pehliva, and besought him to come
forth from his retirement and lead his army, for

a.i8

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

in him alone could he now put trust. And Rustem
replies: " O Shah, since the day when mine arm
could wield a mace I have ever fought the battles
of Iran, and it would seem that rest may never
come nigh unto me. Yet since I am thy slave, it
behooveth me to obey. I am ready to do thy will."
And with the coming of the great Pehliva the
Iranian armies took new heart, and they overcame
the allied hosts of Chinca, and India, and Byzan-
tium with tremendous victory, which is known to
this day as the Vengeance of Chosroes.

Said Napoleon to La Place, " I see no mention
of God in your system of theology." " No, sir;"
was the answer, " we have no longer any need of that
hypothesis." A half century of anarchy and social
disorder in unhappy France was the result — the
awful " reign of terror." How much wiser was
Montesquiei, who said, " God is as necessary as
freedom to the welfare of France! "

Yes, you cannot have freedom for nation or in-
dividual without God as its author and finisher.
Real life finds its source in God. That is the Gospel.
It is not a method of repair. Its process is not one
of mending, moral or spiritual; tinkering or cob-
bling is not salvation. The divine principle is one

2.19

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

i 1
i'i

!i a

■!■ ■ ■

■ ?

I-

1..

' 'i . i

I '

of new life, a constant environment of the life of
God. He creates new character, new creatures
in Christ, and keeps them there. That is the only-
possible redemption of the slums and the depths
of society. Calvary was not an order to move. It
was an invitation to live. Salvation is a new crea-
tion, not a moving-van. It is the greatest miracle.
It is God at first hand. It is the conqueror of all
other environment. Our progress in civiliza-
tion has been marvellous. Inventive genius has al-
most revolutionized the world. Thirteen great in-
ventions have been made within the last one hun-
dred years, while in all previous human history only
seven have been made of equal rank, and even that
is questionable, but what avail for us if we do travel
sixty miles an hour if we are not any more satisfied
or any better when we reach the station. A stage-
coach is just as effective for this purpose as an ex-
press-train. If we cannot talk any better and more
Christlike when we talk from New York to Bos-
ton, what character value is there in it. This is one
of the modern delusions, and even a snare.

Amid all these achievements, and changes, and
straining activity, and killing rush, and peril to

sanity, there is a supreme need. That is what

240

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

Nicodemus could not understand but experienced.
A life with God as its environment.

Memorable is that celebrated siege of Acre on
the coast of Palestine. On one day they had broken
all their swords. They had crossed their swords
until both sides had broken every blade. They
then voluntarily withdrew each from the other, ad-
miring each other's bravery. Into the city went
the besieged and secured new swords. Outside the
city a wise old Mohammedan said: ** Don't fight
to-day nor to-morrow. I will need time to temper
your swords." And so, with an added temper, put
in by one flash of fire, the Mohammedans had
swords that would bend like a Damascus blade; and
it was impossible for the Christians to defeat them.
The Christian blades broke as before, and the only
reason why the Mohammedan in his chivalry won
that battle, which entitled him to the respect of
Christians, was because he added just a little more
temper in the Damascus blade.

Pause, man, just one factor will change defeat
into victory.

Philanthropists and moralists have no hope. All

history is against them. Permanent victory has

not been and cannot be the result of their work.

241

(

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

The world will never be saved by philanthropy or
surface changes. Mosquitoes infest every shady
nook, and crocodiles are where they have perennial
summer. Give the drunkard or his family more
money, and you increase drunkenness. Poverty
ought not to exist, but charity oftentimes only in-
creases it. So far as circumstances or even the laws
of the world are concerned, evil has just as bright
a hope as the good. They seem to be balanced.
Some weight must drop into the side of the scales
called the good. That extra element in a man's
life is God. With Him he can be master, and at
least become like God Himself. He who lives in the
life of God must pass through a process of trans-
formation. In Christ all this becomes reality with
increasing sweetness and power.

In every human being is the germ which de-
mands this as its environment, if it is to live, and
grow, and become perfect. Take two seeds, and
place one in a box on the shelf. Place the other
into the soil, and then the sunlight, and moisture,
and air. Any child knows the result. One shrivels
up, and becomes worm-eaten, and dies. The other
pushes its arms out in a hundred directions, and is

the king of the forest for a hundred years, and lives

242

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

)py or
shady
ennial

more
overty
nly in-
le laws
bright
anced.

scales

man's
and at
i in the

trans-
y with

ch de-
e, and
s, and

other
isture,
irivels

other
and is
d lives

in a hundred generations, and whole forests yet un-
seen.

Man needs God. Without Him it is death, even
eternal death. With Him, what marvellous devel-
opment and transformation.

In 1832, Charles Darwin, the celebrated natural-
ist, and, even then, renowned scientist, went around
the world on a tour of circumnavigation, which is
one of abiding interest. He touched at the coast
of Tierre Del Fuego in South America. His de-
scription of the people is one of horror. He de-
clares he never saw such people, nor would he have
believed they existed. They were of the very lowest
type, and almost, if not quite, inhuman. Their
practices and appearance were shocking. Their
habits were too vile and low to permit description.
He left a line in his diary which says they were be-
yond the reach of civilization. That was the cold
and convincing testimony of a great naturalist, not
a missionary, but rather a skeptic.

In one of the ordinary days of the world, a babe
was found lying helpless and alone, and crying in
the streets of Bristol, without known father, or
mother, or friend, a foundling crying in the night,
and with no answer but a cry, until one heart list-

243

LIFE'S ENVIRONMENT

ened to the call. The day on which it was found
by a constable was St. Thomas Day, so the babe
was named Thomas. The infant was found in a
place between two bridges, so it was called Bridges
— Thomas Bridges. It was lodged in an alms-
house, and fed on public bounty, veritably a little
pauper.

The years brought him up into young manhood,
and then he longed to be a missionary. There was
one place which no one had ventured to go. The
missionary society said he could go to the land
which Darwin had described and declared was abso-
lutely hopeless. It was taking his own life in his
hands, but he went, and revealed the heroic spirit
of the Gospel. He dared to go amongst the sav-
ages, and live with them, and spelled out a language
for them, and then related the story of Christ and
His salvation. He made a translation of the Bible
for them, and, as they read it, they were melted by
it, and subdued, and Christianized, until Darwin,
honest and fearless man that he was, publicly ac-
knowledged his mistake, and gave a contribution
to this work which had demonstrated the power of
God in changing men and their environment.

The English Admiralty had sent out orders that

244

LIFE'S ENVlRONiMENT

no ship of theirs should land on that coast. They
now sent out orders that all ships could land there
and trade.

Civilization was manifest everywhere in that
region, and a miracle of miracles was witnessed by
all the world. Environment at first remained the
same. God was revealed and then lived. Behold
also the environment of the babe, an outcast in the
street of the great city. Behold the King among
men in Thomas Bridges, mighty on earth and
mighty in heaven. Any man or any place can know
the power of the divine Hfe through the Divine
Man.

245

■lid !!■'

And when the stream
Which overflowed the soul was passed away
A consciousness remained that it had left
Deposited^ upon the silent shore
Of memory^ images and precious thoughts
That shall not die and cannot be destroyed.

— Wordsworth.

When Time, who steals our years away.

Shall steal our pleasures too,

The memory of the past will stay

And half our Joys renew.

— Moore.

Friends depart and memory takes them

To her caverns pure and deep.

— Bayly.

How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start
When memory plays an old tune on the heart.

— Cook.

Oft in the stilly night
Ere slumber's chain has bound me

Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me.

The smiles, the tears.
Of boyhood 's years,

The words of love then spoken /
The eyes that shone,

Noruo dim and gone
The cheerful hearts now broken.

— Moore.

246

RTH.

LIFE'S MEMORY

ORE.

lYLY.

bOK.

)RE.

The sweet waters of memory touch the
parched lip with refreshment and enter the veins
of Hfe with creative power and bring back the dis-
turbed heart to its normal beat. Memory is one of
the greatest factors in success and one of the most
powerful ingredients in character. It is the benefi-
cent hand which carries the past up to the threshold
of the present and gives it, as a sacred offering,
to the future. Every to-day and to-morrow has
an unbroken relation to every yesterday. The
golden thread of memory binds them together in
" the bundle of life." The young, kingly minstrel
David was hunted like a bird among the hills and
rocks of Judea. He had just wept upon the neck
of the faithful Jonathan, and the last effort for
reconciliation with King Saul had failed. He
now sought refuge in the caves of the mountains
where he had found shelter from other storms when

247

nri

iml

LIFE'S MEMORY

1,1

is
i",

il Si

I 111

! I

I 1

a shepherd. Then the fierce Hghtnings and loud
thunders were picturesque and musical to his soul in
touch with God. But now his loyal heart was al-
most broken, and it fluttered like a frightened
partridge before the sudden appearance of the
hunter. Around him had gathered a motley crowd
of disheartened and discontented people, but
among that number were some mighty men of
valor who were ready for most heroic service. They
were chivalrous, and imperious, fleet of foot, and
lion-like in strength. They wrought no devasta-
tion in the country nor drew the blood of a single
lamb, but were devoted to the commands and in-,
terests of their young captain. They were in a deso-
late region where the eastern sun scorched every
green thing which grew around the edge of the
barren rocks. The retreats within the rocks were
oppressive with heat of noon-d?y. In this close
atmosphere and utter desolation the courage of
young David's heart began to waver for a moment.
Now behold one of the most pathetic touches in
his whole life. His memory takes him back to his
old home in Bethlehem, and he sees again the wav-
ing grain-fields and purple-clustered trellises, and
the emerald glory of the hillsides. Brightest and

248

LIFE'S MEMORY

I loud
>oul in
iras al-
itened
Df the
crowd
i, but
len oi
, They
)t, and
evasta-
L single
md in-
a deso-
I every

of the
:s were
s close

age of
loment.
ches in
c to his
le wav-
es, and
est and

most attractive of all, his deepest desire and great-
est need carries him back to the old well at the
gate with its clear, sparkling, sweet water. His
heart forces the cry: " O that one would give me
to drink of the w-aters of the well of Bethlehem that
is by the gate! " Three of his brave men, who
heard that cry, instantly volunteered to make the
perilous journey to the old well. They rushed
through the burning heat, and over rocks, and even
forced their way through the lines of the enemies*
army. They drew the water from the favorite
spring and carried it back to the hand of their king.
That self-devotion was too much, and the water
was too sacred. He must make a sacrifice of it.
It was poured out unto their God. The memory
was sweeter than the water itself. It was sufficient.
In that was his greatest riches. A few drops of
water were not the supreme requisite for strength,
and new determination, and certain victory. He
drank at the fountain of the past and in that new
life fought the battles of the future. The thought
of the old well revived the shepherd songs and the
music of other days echoed back into the deeps of
his soul. Where is the man who has once stood
at the old well and pressed his lips against the moss-

249

LIFE'S MEMORY

ii'

■I

covered oaken bucket who, in after years and in
distant lands, and in perilous hours, has not tasted
those waters over again? The crucible of time
has transformed the bucket into silver; the old
rusted tin cup into gold; and every drop of water
into a sparkling jewel, more precious than rubies
or diamonds. The great chasms and spans of life
are made to shrink under the power of the heart's
memory. The old home, and the past days, and
the well at the gate have been inspiration for poet,
and musician, and artist, but they have also inspired
the music, the art, and poetry of life. These sacred
memories have not only driven the dark clouds
from the sky of a Tennyson, and a Whittier, and
given birth to that hope which grasped " the far-
ofif interest of tears," but the mechanic, and artisan,
and farmer, and all men have shared in this wealth
of the past. One of the most beautiful and familiar
scenes in all the world is that of the old man tot-
tering up to the spring-side and drinking from the
same fountain at which his mother kneeled and
gave him to drink when he was a child. These
recollections and reminiscences make up the larger
part of life. We are all bundles of memories. Child-
hood memories; memories of youth; manhood

250

LIFE'S MEMORY

memories; memories of pleasure and success;
memories of victory, and sometimes defeat; memo-
ries of exhuberant health, and sometimes weakness;
memories of the wedding bells; memories of the
cradle; memories of the faded cheek, and the last
sleep of the treasure of home; memories of love
and friendship; memories of prayer and worship;
memories of smiles and tears; all come rushing
into the heart and demand recognition and life.
They cry, " I will not be forgotten; I am a part of
thee." All thy past is bound together in one
bundle by cords which are none other than the
heart's strings.

The importance of this faculty in human charac-
ter has never been justly emphasized. It is not only
an intellectual element, but pre-eminently a
spiritual power. This treasure-house should not be
treated carelessly and left open for every passing
robber. It holds that which is most valuable and
precious. A good memory is a great blessing. A
poor memory is worthy of cultivation. Some men
have possessed this power to a degree which has
created astonishment everywhere, but they have
not always used it to the best advantage. Cyrus
knew the name of every soldier in his great army.

25 1

LIFE'S MEMORY

i!
1

Mithridates, who had troops of twenty-two nations
serving under his banners, became proficient in the
language of each country, and also knew all his
eight thousand soldiers by their right names. Ezdras
is said by historians to have restored the sacred
Hebrew volumes by memory; they had been de-
stroyed by the Chaldeans, and Eusebius declares
that it was to his sole recollection that we are in-
debted for that part of the Bible. St. Anthony,
the hermit, although he could not read, knew every
line of the Scripture by heart. Lord Granville could
repeat, from beginning to end, the New Testament
in the original Greek. Thomas Cranmer com-
mitted to memory in three months an entire trans-
lation of the Bible. Bossuet could repeat not only
the whole Bible, but all of Homer, Virgil, and
Horace, besides many other works. Euler, the
mathematician, could recite the ^neid. Leibnitz,
when an old man, could repeat every word of
Virgil. Themistocles could call by name every citi-
zen of Athens, although the number amounted to
twenty thousand. Seneca complained in his old
age that he could not, as formerly, repeat two
thousand names in the order in which they were

read to him. George Third never forgot a face

252

LIFE'S MEMORY

ations
in the
all his
Szdras
sacred
en de-
eclares
are in-
thony,
1 every
I could
Lament
com-
trans-
»t only
1, and
r, the
libnitz,
rd of
y citi-
Ited to
is old
It two
were
face

he had once seen, nor a name he had ever heard.
Mozart possessed a wonderful memory of musical
sounds. When only fourteen years of age he went
to Rome to assist in the solemnities of Holy Week.
He went to the Sistine Chapel to hear the famous
Miserere of Allegri. It was forbidden any one to
take a copy of this renowned piece of music.
Mozart hid away in a corner while he gave un-
divided attention to the music, and afterward
wrote down the entire piece. The next day he sang
the Miserere at a great concert and accompanied
himself on the harpsichord. This created such a
sensation in Rome that the Pope sent for this musi-
cal prodigy and declared that he had performed one
of the most marvellous things of the world. Such
a remarkable power as this, given to all men in a
greater or less degree, deserves the most careful at-
tention, and development, and consecration. That
which can bridge chasms of time and space and
take a man back to the old well and give him to
drink of its sweet water must be one of the most im-
portant factors in life. Most men have never
thought of its vital relation to character and the
responsibility which is wedded to it. These pre-
cious memories of life comfort the soul in trouble,

253

\f- 'I
1 i

'■m

I!!

iif

1 1 1 1'

ill i ^:

W ^

1 '

il it ''^

U 1 P ^'

11 ' 1 ! 1

H 1 ; :i j

: !i i

IL^

1 i
1 ;

LIFE'S MEMORY

and carry it lovingly through the darkness of trial.
The impressive recollection of rainbows circling
the clouds, and the glory of the sunset after the
storm, is a mighty power in the present hours of
trial and fierce storm. The comfort of memory is
one of the richest of human blessings. The har-
mony of the music may have been perfect during
the early years of life. You stood on the threshold
where the air was full of joy, and health, and bright-
ness. The step was* so light as to become almost
a skip. The notes of pleasure reached their perfec-
tion when the wedding-bells sounded your delight
and prophesied your brilliant future. Those first
years of marriage were wedded happiness and pros-
perity. Like a lightning flash in clear sky the stroke
came. It revealed the flush on your child's cheek.
The whisper of death told the awful, heart-silencing
secret. It forced the cry of agony, " God save my
child." The whole world trembled and tottered, and
seemed, in the dense bewilderment, to be passing
out in darkness. It was the world going if that child
must go; all the value in home, or land, or store,
or society is gone if that jewel of love disappears.
" Dig two graves instead of one," cries the broken
heart. As the lights went out in the home and you

254

LIFE'S MEMORY

pressed the bitter cup to your lip, the voice of ever-
lasting comfort said to you what the world could
not hear and could not interpret, if it did hear, and
you turned toward the empty crib, and empty life,
and empty heart, and sighed a deep sigh and said,
" Even so, Father." The years cannot obliterate
that experience or its effect. Whenever the clouds
gather again the memory of the past forbids the
storm to overwhelm or destroy, but commands it
to make the life richer and more fragrant and fruit-
ful. The first sorrow enters into the second by the
pathway of memory, but its entrance giveth light.
The cloud of to-day obscures all the sunlight and
brightness of yesterday. Our present darkness al-
most destroys the recollection of an abundance of
light in the past. It is our common sin; yesterday's
page was written carelessly and with pale ink.
Under one brush of our ready hand, it disappears.
Shame to the soul which permits this work of the
vandal. Every Job emphasizes the ash-heap, and
sackcloth, and points, with unceasing groan, to
the carbuncles, while he forgets every word in the
marvellous sentence of his past days. " His sub-
stance also was seven thousand sheep, and three
thousand camels, and five hundred yoke of oxen,

255

s (

^^]:i

1', 'ii

11 £

LIFE'S MEMORY

and five hundred asses, and a very great household,
so that this man was the greatest of all the men of
the East." Satan was working with Job. This is
a large part of Satan's work in the earth. To oblit-
erate the light, and joy, and riches of other days.
Blessed is the man who thaws the icicles of winter
in the warm remembrance of the summer day.

This recognition of past deliverance is one of the
greatest elements of comfort in present difficulty.
The future is filled with hardship, and burden, and
peril; yes, but if the train has carried you one thou-
sand miles safely over bridges and around curves
and through the darkness, undoubtedly the bridges
will be solid and the conductor awake, and the
managers competent. Have confidence for an-
other hundred miles at least. God has a perfect
system. Every signal is in order. Rest in the
memory of past safety. These experiences of by-
gone days are the separate notes which make music
in the soul. He is a master who gathers them into
the bar and creates harmony.

Ole Bull, the great violinist, was a friend of John

Erricson. They were both brought up in the same

part of the world, and passed their boyhood days

together, but their occupations had made a wide

256

LIFE'S MEMORY

ehold,
nen of
rhis is
oblit-
days.
winter

of the
iculty.
n, and
; thou-
curves
)ridges
id the
or an-
^erfect
in the
of by-
music
n into

f John
same

i days
wide

divergence between their paths. Erricson's ma-
chinery had silenced the music of his early life, and
he even now refused to listen to it. Ole Bull visited
him and was determined to make him listen to his
violin. The inventor did not invite him to come
and play, and showed no interest whatever in that
piece of wood and its strings. Ole Bull went into
Mr. Erricson's shop and began to talk about woods,
because wood, you know, is a very important part
in a violin. He talked about the scientific proper-
ties of wood, and Erricson listened. He talked
about the mechanism of a violin, and Erricson lis-
tened. Then Ole Bull put that violin to his shoul-
der and thumbed a few little strokes with his finger,
and still Mr. Erricson listened. Then Ole Bull took
his bow, that bow which had delighted so many
people, and drew it carefully across the cords, and
it seemed as if the angels were singing a long way
off. All the workmen in the establishment stopped
and Hstened; and Ole Bull drew the bow again,
and in a few moments Erricson stopped and the
tears began to come down his cheeks, and he turned
to Ole Bull and said: " Go on, go on; all my life I
have missed something and I never knew what it was
until just now; go on! " He had heard once more

257

■' '• ,

III.;

'•t t

11!

LIFE'S MEMORY

the brook in the valley; the birds warbling upon
the hillside; the old scenes all depicted and made
to live again, and his own soul now began to sing
for joy. It was a magnificent discovery. He who
awakens a sweet memory is his fellow man's bene-
factor and ofYers some of the sweetest comfort and
delight in the human heart. What bliss in the
memory of the early days with their freedom,
and health, and abundance of joy, if those hours
are also marked with purity, and industry, and
love, and holy ambition. A record without a
moment misspent is the crown of old age. The
very soil at the foot of the western side of life's hill
which produces fragrance and fruit in abundance.
A sweet memory that!

The opposite of this supreme satisfaction and
joy is found in the mocking struggle to forget those
days. The man has forgotten the worship in the
old church and the early religious life, the peace
of a soul in touch with God, and memory silently
gathers all these precious hours and lays them upon
his desk or bench, and the soul cries out, " O that T
could know that experience again. This is '"
great void in my life. I am the guilty party I
must go back to the old well, and drink at that

2.58

LIFE'S MEMORY

I upon
I made
to sing
le who
s bene-
3rt and
in the
eedom,
I hours
-y, and
hout a
;. The
fe's hill
idance.

on and
;t those

1 in the

2 peace
silently
m upon
) that T

IS V

irty. I
at that

fountain of highest living and noblest service."
Some sermon of long ago suddenly, but vividly,
comes back at the critical moment. A prayer which
the wings of faith once carried to heaven's gate
and left there was not lost. It returns to us as a
bright angel of encouragement. Some word
uttered in the long ago past comes with energy and
pressure almost infinite. At mother's knee the
child's prayer was repeated through those sacred
days. Mother is dead. Fifty years have passed on.
The whole world is changed. That prayer is lost in
the increasing darkness of the past. What, lost?
No, never lost! At some pivotal, strategic moment,
at the call for sublimest service, memory forces its
way through the darkness and the distance^ and the
child is once more at mother's knee. All the pledges
and love of that hour push the man on now to do
his best. Those days have infinite meaning in this
day. The far-away past is sometimes buried, but
under the almost divine force of memory, there is
the power of resurrection. Memory will not per-
mit death. The holy sabbaths of life stand out al-
ways as the chief joy and strength of the soul. They
come as determined accessories of strength. The
yesterday of life has everything to do with the value

259

I 'I

i I

LIFE'S MEMORY

of the service to-day. Recollection is a gigantic
force. Rich indeed is the man who can say, " The
Lord delivered me out of the paw of the lion, and
out of the paw of the bear, and He will deliver me
out of the hand of the uncircumsized Philistine."

Old trials, and temptations, and struggles, and
battlefields, and victories are the bodyguard of the
warrior in the new fight. Human experience is a
costly but precious jewel. It should never be
thrown carelessly away, but prized and held at its
true value. It is stamped with eternity. The Czar
of Russia summoned the world to a Peace Con-
gress, but who shall say that there is nOw some con-
nection between this initial step of his in this great
world's movement and the single e/ent of eight
years ago in his own personal experience ; the
memory of that day in 1891 when the fanatical, half-
insane Japanese policeman smote him with his
heavy Japanese sword. Providence made it to be
a glancing blow and the Czar to wear a very hard
hat. Trifling things — thick hair, tough hat, rapid
movement — but they were in one side of the balance
and life in the other. In the strange Providence
about e\#ry life it was ordered that he should suf-
fer just enough, by loss of blood, and cut of sword,

?6q

LIFE'S MEMORY

igantic
, " The
)n, and
ver me
ine."
es, and
I of the
ice is a
:ver be
d at its
lie Czar
:e Con-
ne con-
s great
f eight
the
,1, half-
lith his
to be
■y hard
, rapid
lalance
idence
lid suf-
word,

and pain of surgical operation, to make him sym-
pathetic for the millions of wounded and dying men
in the armies of the world. The thoughts of these
past years have all converged toward the Peace
Congress at The Hague. His memory of that hour
is unquestionably the introduction to a new chapter
in human history.

During the Mexican war General Scott's army
were pressing through a somewhat mountainous
country when they were arrested in their progress
by a deep, dry caiion, the only bridge over which
had been destroyed by the retreating Mexicans.
The engineers, called for consultation, reported
that owing to the great depth and the precipitous
sides of the canyon it would take two days to re-
place the bridge. There was in the army a regi-
ment from Maine, recruited from the lumbermen
of that State, commanded by a colonel whose own
experience had been greater in log-driving than in
soldiering. A man who in the spring freshets of
the Penobscot — freshets augmented by letting
loose the pools of water of the lakes of the northern
wilderness — had led his men along. Now breast-
deep in icy water, now struggling through the
thickets on the banks, and again leaping in mid-

9^1

LIFE'S MEMORY

stream from log to log, guiding the on-rushing
million of feet of lumber in the mad career to tide-
water. In spite of all effort he had occasionally
seen those logs in the gorges of the Rippogenus,
pile and jam and twist themselves into masses,
towering aloft like Cologne Cathedral. As he lis-
tened to the report of General Scott's engineers
and glanced at the hillsides thickly grown with pine,
he exclaimed: "Two days to bridge this crevasse,
and my men standing here idle!" The hint was
taken. All the axes in the army were distributed
to the men from Maine. The trees came crashing
down as fast as the horses, loosed from the artillery
wagons, could haul them to the edge of the abyss,
into which they were tumbled as you tumble hay
out of a hayrick. Other men hewed string-pieces and
cross-pieces for a corduroy road, and in two hours
the army were marching across the canon. Memory
brought back all the scenes and struggles in the
Maine forest. All the experiences in the distant
homeland rendered the impossible for other men the
strangely possible for these men. The thought of
what a man has done makes him ready for equal
or larger service. They placed a small handker-
chief over the back of a chair which stood at the

262

LIFE'S MEMORY

head of the coffin when John B. Gough was buried.
The silver-tongued orator had many times told the
pathetic story of that handkerchief. He said: " I
have in my house a small handkerchief, not worth
three cents to you, but you could not buy it from
me. A woman brought it and gave it to my wife
and said: " I am very poor. I would give your hus-
band a thousand pounds if I had it, but I brought
this. I married with the fairest and brightest pros-
pects before me, but my husband took to drink, and
everything went. The piano my mother gave was
sold, until at last I found myself in one miserable
room. My husband lay intoxicated in a corner and
my child was lying restless and hungry on my knee.
The light of other days had faded, and I wet my
handkerchief with my tears. My husband,' said she
to my wife, ' met yours. He spoke a few words
to him and gave a grasp of the hand, and now, for
six years, my husband has been to me all that a
husband can be to a wife, and we are gathering our
household goods together again. I have brought
your husand the very handkerchief I wet through
that night with my tears, and I want him to re-
member, when he is speaking, that he has wiped

away those tears from my eyes forever. Ah,"

26.1

^Ui

)

i 1

m
i

^l i

. I'

LIFE'S MEMORY

said Gough, " these are the trophies that make men
glad. The memory of that handkerchief has in-
spired me for twenty-five years to do better service
for humanity and God."

Meditation upon such hours, with their stupen-
dous meaning, give inspiration to every true man
for greater sacrifice. No man, with vision in his
eye, and with space on the walls of his memory,
ever stood on Inspiration point two thousand feet
above the Yellowstone and looked upon that mar-
vellous climax of beauty and grandeur in the natural
world, who did not find its impression and inspira-
tion growing upon him as the years separated it
from him. That graceful, dancing movement of
the emerald stream, that mighty plunging of the
jewelled falls, that avalanche of exquisite and
heaven-touched color, that mingling of countless
rainbows in the spray, that perfect representation
of ruined castle and cathedral, that towering rock
and gorgeous tree, the eagle in his eyrie and the
chorus of forest birds in their glee, who can ever
forget? Those are moments when lips are speech-
less and the soul prays kn silence. Memory can
never lose that. No Moran, or Bierstadt, ever
painted it like memory's brush.

264

LIFE'S MEMORY

e men
as in-
;ervice

tupen-
le man
in his
emory,
nd feet
at mar-
natural
inspira-
rated it
nent of
of the
e and
Duntless
ntation
ig rock
and the
an ever
speech-
ory can
,t, ever

There are inspiration points in life; not disap-
pearing, but abiding and increasing in power. That
is the work of this human faculty, and makes it one
of the chief elements, even in religion. This makes
the water too sacred to drink and inspires sublimest
sacrifice.

During the mutiny in India in 1857 an English
officer named Baird was taken prisoner. He was
severely wounded and was very weak. Neverthe-
less the order was issued to put fetters on him like
the others. But a gray-haired prisoner stepped
from the crowd and protested against their putting
fetters on a man so weak. He even offered to wear
Baird's fetters in addition to his own. He was
taken at his word, and was doubly fettered. He had
been a sufferer once himself. Now memory made
him a saviour. Through the agency of this power-
ful faculty the sacrifices made for us in the earliest
moments of life are brought into the circle of vision
as if they were only yesterday. Who has not gone
over the childhood days again and again and with
increasing delight and love? The stone cut the
foot, but mother's salve was the healing balm.
Father's protection was always a certainty and the

bliss of security. The old tree is leafing out again

26s

*! .1;
'i w

LIFE'S MEMORY

in the springtime, even though the axe has taken
the last remnant of the trunk away. The club flies
into the apple-tree and the apple swings but stays,
while the crooked limb keeps the club. The brook
ripples over the pebbles and continues its sweet
mission all the way through life. Who can forget
it? Even the cows remember that. The meadow-
larks and the robins are again companions, and the
odor of the new-mown hay never disappears.
Memory, with an unaccountable rapidity, brings all
this to the present and says, it is not lost to you
forever. Treasure it and use it. Where is the man
with the soul of manhood in him who will not medi-
tate on this wonderful condition of his existence
and say the old home is not forgotten. Mother's
sacrifice is not forgotten. Father's devotion is not
forgotten. Even the trifling incidents are not oblit-
erated. All of it enters into life as an important
element. In this is the loudest call for his sublimest
sacrifice. He declares, I will burden the present
with the best, so that when it is a part of the past
the memory of it will be clothed in brightest gar-
ments and be always a welcome visitor. Memory
discovers for us this important fact, that all the

events of life are linked together. The chain is

266

LIFE'S MEMORY

composed of large links, and small links, and silver
links, and iron links, and gold links, and beautiful
links, and shapeless links. All kinds, but one chain.
There is no isolation, and the present struggle and
every future victory depends upon that which has
gone before. The waters of the old well in Bethle-
hem furnished new courage and heroism for David.
They banished despair and fear. He saw all the
opposition and enmity of the past conquered and
the — now was only another link in the same chain.
The memory of other battlefields, and other vic-
tories, and the old implements of warfare, bring new
courage into the perilous moments. The fallen
giant, and the headless body, and the famous old
sword are the messengers of hope and heroism. " I
can because I have " is the battle-cry. " Give me
the tried sword. There is none like it." That is
sanctified soliloquy. That is life's best tonic. It
has marvellous power of invigoration. These events
of the past are the brave armies supporting a con-
quering commander. He is rich, indeed, who pos-
sesses old milestones, and old stiles, and old wells,
and old gates, and wrinkled memories. An old
book may make a man twenty years younger when-
ever he opens it. Beware of the new blades — sharp

267

'1 f/

LIFE'S MEMORY

but brittle; new philosophies; new criticisms; new
Bibles; which never killed even a dwarf. Mem-
ory is the jewel-casket of the soul. Give pity
to that man who uses it as a worthless box for rub-
bish, and confusion, and shame. The rarest curiosi-
ties of eternal life and divine love should be there,
and so carefully arranged, and treasured, and
guarded that the owner could take them out at will
and with praiseworthy pride. A man's wealth is
in his experience. History ought not to be like a
vapor — to be cloudy and disappear. The hours of
prayer, and deep thoughts of God, and the things
Eternal will come back to the true man laden with
greater blessing and increasing vividness. The
events, apparently trivial and commonplace, are
transformed, in the secrets of the heart, into the
cause of deepest joy or most energetic accusation.
Memory makes the true man a hero. Behold the
shallowness of past fear and the triumphal march
over seemingly impassable barriers! A young man
started in business when little more than a boy, and
by the time he was twenty-one had what seemed
to him to be a fortune of $10,000. Every dollar
he had worked so hard to make was lost in one

night, and the young man was forced to begin

268

LIFE'S MEMORY

; new
Mem-
e pity
►r rub-
uriosi-
there,
I, and
at will
alth is
like a
Durs of
things
n with
The
:e, are
[to the
sation.
Id the
march
g man
y, and
leemed
dollar
n one
begin

anew. He went to an inland city in New York,
and at twenty-nine sold out his interest in a busi-
ness in which he had become connected, and retired
with $30,000. He entered the ofifice of a leading
physician as a student, worked hard, and had just
been made an M.D. when his old partner failed,
and having indorsed his notes, the young doctor
found himself without a dollar. He borrowed $500
of a brother-in-law and went West. He struck
for the largest city in the State, opened an office,
and waited for fortune to come his way. In a few
days the Governor of the State was taken suddenly
sick in the night. A messenger was sent for the
family physician, but he was not in; a search was
made for some doctor, and the young man from
Maine was found at home. He took the case, cured
the Governor, and soon had more than he could
attend to. He made money, invested in real estate,
was elected mayor, and held other offices, and died
president of three banks and a railroad, and worth
$900,000. He recalled, in that critical moment, the
experiences and victory of other hours and then
rose in his kingliness and made the very opposition
of the present his obedient servant. One of the most

touching incidents in all the world of literature is

269

1 '

LIFE'S MEMORY

the sad death of Thomas Chatterton. His own
hand wrought the cruel deed when only eighteen
years of age. He had already written such master-
pieces that the critics were deceived, and declared
them to be newly discovered manuscripts of some
of the world's greatest authors. He was a boy with
the brain and genius of a man. He was on the
threshold of wealth and fame, but in these early
hours he was subjected to ill treatment and forced
to suffer the pangs of poverty. In these days of
hunger, and disappointment, despair seized him,
and death was welcomed, even if it was suicide. The
secret of this sad career and the stain upon his
early grave lies in the fact that he was too young
and yet too old. Life's experience was necessary
for his support. He had no great and sanctified
memory. He came to those hardships unprepared.
Memory plays a large part in the essential prepara-
tion for the battle of life. It has wrought out
marked moral revolutions and brought the soul
to its regeneration. A father called his son into
his shop, and, taking up an old axe, said to him:
" My son, I have obtained more happiness cutting
wood and hewing timber with this axe, and thus
earning money, than you will ever secure in spend-

270

LIFE'S MEMORY

ing it." It was a wise saying. The father died, and
years went on. The son found his way to Porto
Rico, and there he dreamed that he was a young
man again, that he was in his father's shop, and
that he saw his father take up that same old axe;
and then when awake it came back into his mind
what his father had said. Then the son remembered
how he had inherited his father's property, how he
wasted it, and how little good he had obtained from
it. He became, under the impulse of that memory,
one of the world's best men, and by the power of
God made not only a brilliant success in life but
worked out the restoration of the divii^e image.

The saddest condition in human existence is
when memory brings the sins of a man's life before
him and leaves them there as his companions. Who
can tell the story of the pangs of conscience! Only
the soul understands its own sufifering. On his
twenty-fifth birthday Hartley Coleridge wrote these
sad verses in his Bible:

"When I received this volume small
My years were barely seventeen,
When it was hoped I should be all
Which once, alas, I might have been.
And now my years are twenty-five,
And every mother hopes her lamb
271

I>l

LIFE'S MEMORY

And every happy child alive
May never be what now I am."

That is drinking at the spring of Marah before
the tree is dropped into its bitter waters. Sur-
rounded by memories of sin, and impurity, and
wasted life, Byron wrote on his thirty-third birth-
day:

'* Through life's dull road, so dim and dirty,
I have dragged to three and thirty;
What have these years left to me?
Nothing except thirty-three."

In such agony of vivid memories there is the
sound of peace for the listening ear. " I will give
you rest " is the welcome message to every
prodigal. Alone, with tear-stained face and hun-
gry body, he is feeding the beasts and eating their
food. He had squandered his father's wealth of
love, and now memory brings back to him the
father's house, the father's table, the father's abun-
dance, the father's heart, and the old well at the
gate. He rises in the remnants of his manhood
and says, " I will go home." Such a recollection
is an angel-messenger. Turn not thy back upon
that bright form nor stop thy ears to that heavenly
Drummond repeated t

messenger.

cry

272

LIFE'S MEMORY

ful man who was dying, " Take my influence and
bury it with me," and then he said he was going to
be with Christ, but his influence had been against
Him; he was leaving it behind. As a conspirator
called by some act of grace to his sovereign's table
remembers with unspeakable remorse the assassin
whom he left in ambuscade at his king's palace
gate, so he recalls his traitorous years and the in-
fluences which will plot against his Lord when he
is in eternity. O, it were worth being washed from
sin, were it only to escape the possibility of a treach-
ery like that! It were worth living a holy and self-
denying life, were it only to join the choir invisible
of those almighty dead who live again in lives made
better by our presence." Drummond said, " That
shall not be my life. I will crown it with sweet
memories. My influence must be a force which
lives forever in the elevation and salvation of hu-
manity." And it does live and will live until the last
man has made his record upon earth. His was the
ideal life which came face to face with most grievous
pain in the sunniest hours of his triumphs. He
showed other men how to endure physical suffer-
ing without a murmur and without a fear of death.
He forgot his brilliant gifts, but talked much of the

273

LIFE'S MEMORY

power to help me \. His anguish of body whitened
his hair within two years and caused his very bones
to become so brittle that the slightest touch would
shatter them. As the sun was disappearing in the
glory of the evening sky he asked a friend to sing
to him the words, " I hope to meet my Pilot face
to face when I have crossed the bar." Afterward
they sang for him his favorite hymn, " I am not
ashamed to own my Lord,'' to which the dying
scholar and Christian whispered: " There is nothing
to beat that, Hugh. I know whom I have believed
and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which
I have committed to Him against that day." Then
he wandered in his thoughts and tossed in his
delirium, but the two words, " Mother " and
" Christ," lingered longest on his lips, and when
Death said " Stop," they stayed at the doorway as
sentinels over the sanctity of everlasting memories.

274

W^en I was a little hoy in my fourth year ^ one fine day in
Spring, my father led me by the hand to a distant part of
the farm, but soon sent me hom\i ilone. On my way I had to
pass a little pond, then spreading its waters wide, a rhodora
in full bloom, a rare flower which greiv only in that locality,
attracted my attention and drew me to the spot. I saw a lit-
tle tortoise sunning himself in the shallow waters at the roots
tf the flaming shrub. I lifted the stick / had in my hand to
strike the harmless reptile ; for though I had never killed any
creature, yet I had seen other boys do so, and I felt a dispo-
sition to follow their wicked example. But all at once some-
thing checked my little arm, and a voice within me said clear
and loud, " // is wrong! ' ' / held my uplifted stick in won-
der al the new emotion, the consciousness of an involuntary but
inward check upon my actions, till the tortoise and the rhodora
both vanished from my sight. I hastened home and told the
tale to my mother, and asked what it was that told me it was
wrong. She wiped a tear from her eye, and, taking me in
her arms, said : '* Some men call it conscience, but I prefer
to call it the voice of God in the soul of man. If you listen
to and obey it, then it will speak clearer and clearer, and
always guide you right, but if you turn a deaf ear or disobey,
then it will fade out Utile by little, and leave you in the dark
and without a guide. Four life depends on heeding that
little voice.'' — Theodore Parker.

275

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

The power of conscience is strikingly illustrated
in the relation of the wicked ruler Herod, the new
Jezebel, and the stern and holy Prophet. In re-
sponse to the demands of Herodias and his fan-
tastic sense of honor, this crafty and cruel ruler had
slain a king among men who dared to protest
against his unholy manner of life. He had a certain
respect for the man, but the claims of a wicked
woman's pleasure, his own veracity, and the ap-
plause of his intoxicated associates conquered all
hesitation, and the truth incarnate was murdered.
A kingly head was carried into the banqueting hall
to increase the mad revel of the hour. A woman's
revenge was satisfied, and the event was soon hid-
den in the dark past, and the blood-stain apparently
forgotten. There is a resurrection day for every
buried conscience — here or hereafter. Another
strange and holy life appeared upon the world's

276

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

stage before the tragedy was finished. In the king's
palace the story of the Christ found its way. When
this new sensation burst through the royal gates,
the startled ruler shouted with intense and terrified
exclamation: " I know, I know it is John whom I
beheaded. He is risen from the dead."

It was morning; the clock had struck and con-
science awoke. Memory may be silenced, but never
slain. In momentary blindness and deafness, be-
cause of confusion, and excitement, and the wild
rush of the world, a m.an deceives himself and thinks
that the evil deed was put to death. But some new
man or event suddenly appears to startle and
irighten. An unseen hand draws the garments
from the skeleton. It may be only the color of an
eye, or the manner of the step, in which there is a
resemblance, but it is sufficient to summon all the
past in review and create a never-dying terror. The
fog of the morning may keep the remnants of night
about the day, but a slight breeze scatters the mist
and sweeps every cloud from the sky. Conscience
dips its pen in blood. The second coming of the
deed through the pathway of conscience makes it
even more vivid and the personal element emi)ha-
sized. It was not a great and emphatic compunc-

277

<- -.Tiwt'^ :'n w »'y -,^

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

tion that accompanied the commission of the crime,
but when it came to light again, Herod cried: " It
was /." " / beheaded him." There is no shifting
of responsibility, or even offering the excuse of
oath and honor, but " I murdered him." Alone
with the deed, in after days, all apology and
wrappings and deception, and soft words vanish.
Conscience and its companion memory spend all
the hours of their silence in stripping the robes and
trappings from the naked crime. Conscience even
has no mercy on a man's theology. Herod was a
Sadducee. His theory was against the doctrine of
a future state. It was good theology for some
hours, but not for all. This present was his world;
he did not want the future, and therefore adopted
the usual custom of refusing to think about it, and
declaring himself a Sadducee in theory. But now
there is at least one man who can rise from the dead.
The invisible world is made very real by the lan-
tern of conscience. That light has a vital relation
to belief. The thought of the judgment is not a
stranger to any man's mind. Penalty is shackled
to transgression. The cry of the king is the soul's
cry of fright and dread. Conscience is the prophet

of punishment and condemnation for the awful

278

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

crime of the death of innocence and truth. " It is
conscience that makes cowards of us all."

The great novelists, and dramatists, and poets
have all emphasized the truth of conscience and
given most vivid illustrations of its methods and its
power. The master of the world in this respect is
unquestionably Shakespeare. In Richard III. he
cries exultingly, " Now is the winter of our discon-
tent made glorious summer by this son of York."
Then Clarence is murdered; then Hastings follows;
then the noblemen; then Richard's wife; then the
helpless boys in the tower; and conscience has con-
quered *^he monarch at last and made him a shiver-
ing coward. In his tent he sits at midnight, while
before him pass all of his victims in ghostly proces-
sion, and he cries, in the deepest agony of the hu-
man soul: "Have mercy, Jesus! Soft, I did but
dream. O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict
me! The lights burn blue. My conscience hath
a thousand several tongues, and every tongue
brings in a several tale, and every tale condemns
me for a villain."

Hamlet knew the power of conscience, and
watched the guilty monarch, and when the poison
was poured he cried: " Give me some light — away!

279

i I

1:! '

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

O my offence is rank, and smells to heaven! It hath
the primal curse upon it — a brother's murder."

Macbeth's conscience is like a thousand stinging
serpents in the centre of the heart, and forces the
cry: " Avaunt and quit my sight; let the earth hide
thee! Take any shape but that! Hence, horrible
shadow." Then Lady Macbeth, in her sleep, en-
deavors to wash an imaginary blood-stain from her
hand, and exclaims, "Out, damned spot!" And
then, and with a wail of woe and terror, adds: " Here
is the smell of blood still. Not all the perfumes of
Arabia will sweeten this little hand." The indelible
stain would not wash. If the ocean-bed were the
basin, and it was full, the blood would still remain
upon the hands of Cain, and Pilate, and Judas.

There are two men in every man. The inner

man is th^ better. When the outer man violates
conviction, the inner man makes emphatic protest.

This is a great fact of life which must be reckoned

with the same as every other fact. It will not suffer

denial or ignorance. It is real and most vital. This

is God's best gift to humanity. Imagination, and

reason, and memory, and all other faculties take a

scondary place. This is the supreme element in

man. It is the eye of the soul. There is a war

280

; 111

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

for life or death between the higher and lower
nature; between good and evil. In this struggle
for mastery conscience is the commander of the
good forces. It is that peculiar power in the soul
which commands all the rest of the army of facul-
ties. It always orders death to the evil. It stands
courageous for righteousness, with all the reserve
force of heaven at its call. Man is a free moral
agent. All men act that truth whether they theo-
reticcMy proclaim it or not. In the realm of that
freedom conscience moves with kingly attitude,
We are slaves only as we will be. It is not by com-
pulsion of the higher laws. It is the glory of our
manhood that the dictates of conscience can be
carried out. It is the voice of the Supreme Will
in the soul, and the greater good is attained by ac-
tion in conformity to this Will of all wisdom and
all love. Man would be the creature of circum-
stances if it was net for his will and his conscience.
But he can be now the king of the world and his
royalty be eternal. " He is a free man whom the
truth makes free and all are slaves beside."

The Bible does not prove the existence of con-
science. It simply recognizes the fact. Neither
does it prove the existence of God, but declares,

!»■,

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

" In the beginning, God." Revelation takes for
granted the reality and the recognition of con-
science in human history. It is born with the child
the same as any other faculty. Appearances are
always against the cradle. Reason and imagina-
tion, even, do not seem to be there. The argument
is won only by comparison with other members of
the human family. The child cannot speak, there-
fore it is dumb? No! Wait for development. Con-
science demands time for its appearance. It may
not be a separate faculty; it may be of a composite
nature and more intimately related to the other
faculties than they are to each other. However that
may be, it is rocked in the cradle and grows with
its human home and the other occupants.

This moral sense is not the result of law or social
life, or any other element. It lies deeper than that.
It is a part of the human constitutioi . It is a part
of man without which he would not be man. It
is the part nearest to the divine. It holds the secret
of God and carries the voice of God. The highest
ideal is " to have a conscience void of ofYence
toward God and man."

The child in the home is an interrogation-point
at the end of every act of its own and " no " of its

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

mother. " Why is this not right? " " Why is that
wrong? " but gradually he inclines to the right he-
cause he feels that inward impulse of duty to obey.
He may be naturally disinclined, but drill and teach-
ing change that bent of disposition. Conscience
is born at the moment of his birth, but its disci-
pline is a life-long process. In this sense it is an arti-
ficial and educated faculty, but no more so than any
other one of the two score and more faculties. The
child goes out from the home into the world and
still remains in the school of life where conscience
receives constant instruction.

Conscience does not discover good and evil; it
does not interpret right and wrong; it does not de-
termine the moral quality of things. It simply but
emphatically declares that man must do the right
and not do the wrong. The understanding must
decide as to the right or wrong, and immediately
the voice of conscience is heard, like the bell within
the clock when the machinery has moved the indi-
cator far enough. Conscience does not change with
time and circumstances, but there are the most deli-
cate distinctions between right and wrong being
made more numerous and more difficult by cir-
cumstances and time. Conscience means, etymol-

283

:! ,

■•

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

ogically, " with knowledge." Living with or accord-
ing to our highest knowledge. To be conscien-
tious is to live up to our light. In this is the trans-
formation of knowledge into character. Conscience
does not furnish the evidence. It is the infallible
judge which forever condemns the wrong and
praises the right. It is man's guide through the
dangerous and unknown country of temptation and
sin. It is the compass which never fails on life's
stormy sea.

O the tragical possibilities in man's relation to
this supreme element in life, and character, and des-
tiny! It may be "seared as with a hot iron;" it
may be made to undergo such a process as to be
stunted, and dwarfed, and withered, and the last
drop of sap taken out of it. It may be made to lose
its power to control and ennoble. This ruin is
wrought within before it appears outwardly. Its
beginning is not in the flesh or upon the surface;
so all change for the better, and final redemption
must come from the inner nature. That is the
secret of the gospel. That is the meaning of the
new birth. It is new direction; new impulse; new
desire; in reality, new living. That is regeneration.
That is the only salvation. Conscience must for-

284

LIFE'S CONSClKXcn

ever derive its vitality from God. Otherwise it goes
down and creates moral darkness. Conscience dis-
obeyed is will weakened. The power of resistance
is less. Habit is formed and the propagation of evil
goes on. If the sound of the alarm-clock is heeded
when it first disturbs the sweetness of sleep, it is
effective in its purpose, but if the eyes are again
closed, the next morning there is less wakefulness,
and, at last, that hated piece of machinery has lost
all of its usefulness.

Only a few years ago Mr. Parnell was the great
leader of the Irish cause in the English Parliament.
He possessed a characteristic eloquence, and was
master of great occasions. He was a leader with
magnificent common-sense and royal bearing. He
fought his way, step by step, until the greatest in
the world respected him and the morning of victory
began to dawn for his cause. Every man prophe-
sied that he would live in history as one of the great-
est of men. He was great enough, in 1882, to offer,
of his own accord, to Mr. Gladstone, to retire from
public life if such an act would be helpful to his
people. But, on the threshold of his triumph, he
began to trifle with and trample upon conscience.
In his inner life this disobedience was first doin^ its

285

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

^./

■^

1.0

I.I

«-• iitt 1 2.2

;': 1^ 11 2.0

1.8

1.25

1.4

1.6

^ 6" —

►

C?i^ii. "t^ ' V

■em ^i ^^

PhotDgraphic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WfST MAIN STREIT

WEBSTiR.N.Y. 145S0

(716) 873-4S03

^<b

^11

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

deadly work without the knowledge of his fellow
men. He did not resist the wrong, and conscience
was gnawing at the very vitals of his being and his
success. In 1890 the cloak was unfastened and
thrown back. Then Justin McCarthy, who had
been his dearest friend, said of him: " He seems
suddenly to have changed his whole nature and his
very ways of speech. We knew him before as a
man of superb self-restraint — cool, calculating,
never carried from the moorings of his keen intel-
lect by any waves of passion around him. A man with
the eye and the foresight of a born commander-in-
chief. We have now, in our midst, a man seemingly
incapable of self-control; a man ready at any mo-
ment, and on the smallest provocation, to break
into a very tempest and whirlwind of passion. A
man of the most reckless and self-contradictory
statements. A man who could descend to the most
trivial and vulgar personalities; who could engage,
and even indulge, in the most ignoble and humili-
ating brawls." His star became a shooting-star,
and fell forever from the world's sky. No foot ever
stepped upon the sacred treasure of conscience with
impunity.

Charles IX. of France in his youth was of a lov-

286

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

ing and sensitive nature. His mother's training, so
inhuman, had much to do with his sad transforma-
tion. Even when she first proposed to him the
massacre of the Huguenots heshrank from it in hor-
ror and said, " No, no, madam; they are my loving
subjects." If he had Hstened, in this critical mo-
ment, to the voice of conscience so that its de-
mands could never have been forgotten, St. Bar-
tholomew's night would never have made crimson
the pages of history, and he would have escaped
the agony and remorse of the dark hours about his
death-bed. In the terror of the judgment and the
memory of his bloody deeds, he cried to his physi-
cian as death demanded his soul: "Asleep or
awake, I see the mangled forms of the Huguenots
passing before me. They drip with blood; they
, make hideous faces at me; they point to their open
wounds and mock me. O that I had spared at
least the little infants at the breast." Then he
screamed and cried in his misery, while the bloody
sweat oozed from the pores of his skin. He crushed
that beautiful cluster of tender and pure impulses
of the soul into the cup of remorse, and death
pressed it to his lips and forced him to drain its
very dregs.

287

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

L Pir

: f !

Every sin has its avenging angel, and it never
deserts its duty. Men attempt to bury crime, but
no grave is deep enough. Conscience never dies.
It is oftentimes bruised and trampled upon, but
never slain. It still cries out, " Do forever that
which makes for holiness, and happiness, and
heaven." It is permanent and universal; it is at the
centre of being. It is safe from destruction. It is
the echo of eternal law in the soul. It is like the
atmosphere; it bears down upon a man out of
heaven from every point of the compass and at
every tick of the clock. Self-control and every ele-
ment of divineness in us depends upon the ascend-
ency of conscience. Conscience in the moral world
is what gravity is in the physical world. You can-
not ignore or get away from it, or live without it.
It is not an accident in human life; it is elemental
and essential.

Loyalty to conscience is the only foundation

upon which character or manhood can be erected.

If the other and upper stories are beautiful, sham

in the hidden foundation will work ultimate ruin.

To be a man is to despise all effort to silence the

voice of God by failure to obey.

Socrates wrote no books, and did not leave his

288

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

deepest impression upon the world even in his
teaching, but in his brilHant example of deathless
devotion to conscience. The world would never
have remembered his name with the glory that now
encircles it if he had not held the cup of hemlock
and stood in the face of death true to his deepest
conviction. And the long catalogue of the world's
heroes have been enrolled according to that same
principle. Even in the commercial world it is con-
science in business which carries the reward of real
success. When a piece of his work seemed inferior
and did not reach his ideal Wedgwood, the master
would hurl it away from him, saying, '* That won't
do for Josiah Wedgwood." Conscience makes
character, and character makes permanent reputa-
tion, and Wedgwood pottery won and held a world-
wide celebrity. Ask questions of the life of Bene-
dict Arnold, and Aaron Burr, and George Washing-
ton, and you will discover the philosophy of true
life and the power of obedience to conscience.
Carlyle says: " Who is a true man? He who does
the truth, and never holds a principle on which he
is not prepared in any hour to act, and in any hour
to risk the consequences of holding it." Angel's

visits are the poetry of truth. The bright angel

289

I I

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

i: '

I;,;

■ ! !

of a good conscience, after the battle won or duty
done, is man's companion. No pleasure can com-
pare with the joy of his presence, and no music
so sweet as the sound of his voice.

At a critical hour in the life of the famous Tolstoi
he came to the conclusion, after studying the gos-
pels, that the Sermon on the Mount contained the
secret of religion, and that its heart-searching and
life-changing commands must be obeyed. Love for
God and love for man, even his enemies, fastened
itself upon his whole life so that ordinary charitable
work failed to satisfy him. His fine carriage, pass-
ing his miserable neighbors, seemed arrant hy-
pocrisy. He began to loathe that elegant style of
life and to come as close as possible to the great
hard-working and poverty-stricken mass of hu-
manity. " I am sitting on the back of a man whom
I am crushing," he said. " I insist on his carrying
me, and without setting him free I tell him that I
pity him a great deal, and that I have only one de-
sire — that of improving his condition by all possi-
ble means, and yet I never get off his back. If I
wish to help the poor I must not be the cause of
their poverty."

We find how consistently Tolstoi first acted in

290

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

conformity to conscience. He retired to the coun-
try. He stripped his home of every kixury. He
clad himself in the rough clothes of the peasant.
He gives up all delicacies. He abstains from all
wine and tobacco. He works in the fields when
his health permits. He learns to make his own
boots. He continues to write, but only such books
and articles as he believes will help the world
toward Christ. Every man may not agree with his
manner of life or with his social theories, but every
man must agree with his love for humanity and his
supreme loyalty to conscience. To be considered
a lunatic, and a heretic, and a traitor for twenty
years is magnificent heroism. What others call the
value in life he has sacrificed, but in all this the
laws of earth and heaven have cooperated to give
him greater influence in the world than those who
are at the head of Russian army or navy. He is
a prophet of the future power of character and
sympathy against the forces of the world.

Conscience is often fragmentary, and touches
vigorously and emphatically only a part of life.
One man has a conscience in his business, but leaves
it at the office, and lives without it in the horn-;.

Another is a slave to conscience in the home, but

291

%• .

I 'f

t«

; ! I

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

rebels against every demand for it in the store. One
nian is exceedingly conscientious concerning his
theology, but forgets the necessity of that righteous
element in his morality. John Calvin could burn
Cervetes after he had made a new theology for the
world, and made it to take his name. Charles IX.
could stay three hours in church, and on the same
day inaugurate St. Bartholomew's massacre and
fill the streets of Paris with human blood. It is a
poor conscience which is seen only in spots. To be
conscientious one day and not the next; in one
environment and not in another; in one tempera-
ment and not all conditions, is not to be an obedi-
ent subject of the world's greatest sovereign, God's
vicegerent in the soul.

As conscience is stifled by disobedience, it is
strengthened by obedience. It is subject to educa-
tion, but there are many false factors in the edu-
cational force. The statements of other people, the
customs of society, personal opinions and personal
desires. Such as these are not heaven's graduates
carrying diplomas to teach in life's school. You
can educate into almost any course of life. You
can make one man believe that a stone is his god,
and another man believe that the best way to serve

992

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

God is by thrusting himself through with a knife
and tying cords in knots through his flesh. Re-
ligion is made irreligious by education. Many a
musician, and orator, and artist, and writer has been
ruined by false education. Recipients of splendid
natural ability, but given the wrong bent.

Conscience may be trained upward or downward;
may be strengthened or weakened; it may be de-
filed or beautified. It is not necessarily a perfect
conscience or a good conscience, but it may be
trained to goodness. This education is first from
the divine side. No man can have a good con-
science in society who has not a good conscience
toward God. Love for God precedes love for man,
so conscience has its first relation to God. Com-
munion with the upper world is the introduction to
right living on earth. It is a religious conscience
before it is a social conscience. Right with God
and then right with man. Hearken to God's voice
before yor can listen to the cry or understand the
need of suffering humanity.

Because of the certainty of difference in the un-
derstanding of what is right and what is wrong,
every man should have charity and respect for the
conscience of every other man. Constitutional

293

' :

t I

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

temperament and biases are wrought into con-
science. There are consciences just as different as
intellects and emotions are. Just as different as
people themselves are. An artist never had the
same conscience as a financier. Their disposition,
and nature, and life make a contrast in their moral
sense. Some things that are the essence of weak-
ness to a man who is a worshipper of a creed or a
bit of theology may even seem righteous to his
neighbor who never saw this world or the next as
he sees it. God never gave one man a conscience
for another, any more than He did a brain or a
heart. He ordained that every man should have
toleration, and not a conscience, for his neighbor.
Prejudice and self-esteem and popery are the ene-
mies of morality and spirituality. We shall not
be judged by our neighbor's conscience, but by our
own. The Spartans taught their children to steal.
They did not believe in disobedience, but admired
the power of concealment. It was their skill that
was praised, and not their thievery. This was a
strange conscience, but right to obey it. Doing
what seems to be right is the only road to finding
out what is right. We are responsible for convic-
tions and the way we reach them, but there is only

294

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

one pathway, and that of obedience. Violation of
conscience is death to morality and the higher life.
Conscience is so sacred that it must not be opposed,
even in others. Our action is controlled by ofifence
given to another man's conscience. Pity the weaker
man, but do not thrust a sword into his loyalty to
that which he honestly believes is the right. Chris-
tian conscience is one throne higher than Christian
liberty. Boasted liberty may destroy conscience,
but it strikes at the very life of the soul. Deny
thyself from the impulse of sympathy and fear to
cause others to sin and you have entered into the
very inner temple of human life. There is a primary
right and a secondary right. There is an eternal
right and a temporary right. There is an absolute
right and a circumstantial right. The Sabbath day
has changed, but not the law of God. Every creed
has changed, but not the fundamentals of Christian
truth. Worship God forever, but whether at ten
or eleven o'clock is not a part of the eternal ar-
rangement. Method is always changing. Homes,
and churches, and enterprises are killed by irra-
tional conscience. Emphasis is too often laid upon
petty and minor matters. Conscience must be

founded upon reason if it triumphs in the world,

295

I'!

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

' i

, 5t

because reason is always victorious. It takes a
long time, in some instances, but it is crowned at
last. It is folly to spend strength on anything less
than principles. In the secondary matters most of
the false judgment of others is formed. Here is the
place for liberality, but in the sanctity of the inner
right — never! Beware of oppressing others with
your conscience. It may be only a secondary and
temporal one. It may be unworthy of a long
sceptre. We only learn the primary and the eter-
nal from communion with Christ. Washing hands
and eating with the Pharisees did not make up the
larger part of His life. It was not empty and hol-
low, but solid and cubic. His was the very life of
God. The kingdom of God is not in externals; it
is in life, and life more abundantly, and life eternal.
He furnishes the standard in precept and example
for all men in their relation to their own conscience
and that of other men. He conquers who stands
by the Christ, even if his feet press the rocky soil
of Calvary.

They say a bright light fell on Luther's face as
the German monk stood before the Emperor at

Worms, and said, " I cannot and will not recant."

2g6

kes a
led at
ig less
lost of
; is the
: inner
s with
,ry and
a long
le eter-
f hands
up the
nd hol-
life of
als; it
ternal.
ample
science
stands
;ky soil

I face as
;ror at

lecant.

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

But a brighter light entered his soul as he boldly
fronted death for conscience' sake.

All happiness comes through one channel, and
that is the peace which flows through the deepest
part of life, the peace of conscience. Peace with
myself, peace with my record, peace with my God.

In the olden time Hawthorne says there lived a
knight who fell in love with a strange but beautiful
maiden. She dwelt in a fountain in the seclusion of
a lonely and hidden forest. She charmed the boy's
soul. She was so attractive and so near to nature
that the birds, and fishes, and all the animal world
were her friends. She taught him how to make
them all his companions. She could always make
him happy and bring sunshine into his darkness.
He made a journey to the distant city, and in a peril-
ous and unguarded moment he fell and became guilty
of grossest sin. A few days passed in the trans-
gression, and after it, when he appeared one morn-
ing in the forest again. He was now a coward and
trembled. His appearance had changed. Glances
flashed from his blood-shot eyes. He tried his old
power, and whistled to his forest friends. They
came all about him, but suddenly scampered and
fled away with frightened cries. He gave a slight

297

*i 'f

t ,1; .

! !i'

f('

?!';!::

f '

.1, I|(

LIFE'S CONSCIENCE

scream too, but hastened on toward the fountain.

He reached its side only to find the very waters

shrinking away from him and refusing to touch

his Hps. He cried for the maiden, but only an

echo of bitterness and woe came back. He at last

saw her blessed face only for a moment, and

then it was lying upon the water, pale and with a

blood-stain upon the forehead. His crime had slain

the fountain girl. His hopes were blasted, and his

world darkened, and his condemnation the greatest

reality. Conscience had been trifled with and

trampled upon, and this was the end.

298

Sow an act, reap a hahit ; sow a habit, reap a character ;
sow a character, reap a destiny. —Asoa.

Man is not the creature of circumstance. Circumstances
are the creatures of men. — Disraeli.
We shape ourselves the joy or fear
Of which the coming life is made

And all our future's atmosphere with sunshine or with shade,

— Whittier.
Time the shuttle drives, but you
Give to every thread its hue
And elect your destiny. —Burleigh.

Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we
must carry it with us or we find it «o/.— Emerson.

If we would see the color of our future we must look for
it in our present. If we would gaze on the star of our
destiny we must look for it in our hearts.— Q,KYio^ Farrar.
The end of life is to be like God, and the soul following
him will be like -^/iw.— Socrates.

a99

ij' .;

i Mv A''

w ''

19 ^ ^1 i 1

XII
LIFE'S DESTINY

The smallest fraction of human life does not
know chance, and scoffs at fate. Destiny is in the
citadel of law and guarded by all the forces in the
universe. Greek and Roman fates are still frown-
ing upon a trembling world. Their despotism is
the gift of pagan theology. Dignity of freedom is
forced back by their power and boldness. The hu-
man will is left out of the weaver's hands and the
fabric of life is tangled and knotted threads. This
has not the sanction of reason, experience, or reve-
lation. There are three forces which operate in
human life, — will, environment, and God. They
not only operate but cooperate in the making of
character and fixing of destiny. Man is no more
the creature of circumstances than the creator of
circumstances, and a supernatural power forces its
way into his environment. No one questions the
elfect of surroundings upon character and life, but

300

«v

LIFE'S DESTINY

kingly man swings his sceptre over these conditions
and says, " There shall be no Alps." He calls " im-
possible " a " blockhead word," and casts it out of
his vocabulary and finds no definition for it in the
dictionary. The engine halts before the great bar-
rier of the mountain-range, but man speaks the im-
possible and says, " go on, go on," but his com-
mands are for obedience, and a hole is bored
through the granite hills. Bedford Jail makes
"Pilgrim's Progress" and Milton's blindness
makes Paradise Lost." One day is as good as an-
other. We are the foolish victims of superstition.
Friday is the best day in American history.

Friday, Christopher Columbus sailed on his voyage of dis-
covery.

Friday, ten weeks after, he discovered America.

Friday, Henry VII. of England gave Cabot his commis-
sion, which led to the discovery of North America.

Friday, St. Augustine, the oldest town in the United States,
was founded.

Friday, the Mayflower, with the Pilgrims, arrived at Prov-
incetown; and on

Friday, they signed the august compact, the forerunner of
the present Constitution.

Friday, George Washington was born.

Friday, Bunker Hill was seized and fortified.

Friday, the surrender of Saratoga was made.

301

LIFE'S DESTINY

Friday, the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown occurred;
and on

Friday, the motion was made in Congress that the United
States were, and of right ought to be,< free and independent.

God makes man, but man also makes himself.
In that is his responsibility. He has been endued
with will power, and that is the maker of character.
This power of choice makes every man the author
of his own destiny. The glory of manhood and its
distinctive feature is its power to choose. The ab-
solute necessity of freedom is in morality, and char-
acter, and destiny. There could be no moral qual-
ity in action if chance or fate were in control. There
must be free agency in order to manhood, morality,
or religion. Napoleon said he had his star, his
fate, but he toiled and strained every faculty and
nerve to the highest tension nineteen hours out of
each day. Success and character are surrounded
by conditions which every man must courageously
face. This is the genius of salvation. It is offered
to every man upon his personal acceptance of the
conditions; a complete surrender to its claims.
Chance does not control it, and fate does not com-
pel it. One journey through the halls of memory
in the companionship of conscience stamps this

302

LIFE'S DESTINY

great truth upon the soul of every man. He recog-
nizes himself as the architect of his own life and its
destiny. God never hardened any Pharoah's heart.
He was the maker of his own condition, the author
of his own end. He ruled by obduracy and selfish-
ness. He forgot God and the principles of truth
and righteousness; he mocked heaven's messengers
and ignored their warning. He trampled upon the
law of God, and by that process made his own heart
as hard as the granite rock. This sad result was
reached by laws as binding and relentless as the
laws which make the mountains themselves. The
law of gravity works no more perfectly or effectively
than this law of the soul life. A hard heart is
ever the result of man's act. It was not compul-
sion; it was choice. This is not the sovereignty of
force; this is the kingdom of will. God is to us only
what we are to Him. He does not compel us; he
begins where we are. The process of hardening
is the process of nature. God's sovereignty is never
divorced from God's love. Man's freedom is never
destroyed in the presence of divine power. Man
has no control over his birth, and finds himself in a
world which he did not create. He is subjected to
these conditions, and, in a measure, under their

303

LIFE'S DESTINY

power. Is this man, then, the instrument of blind
fate? No, a thousand times no! He is the king
of his own realm. He is the creator of his own
character. There is no power in blood, or circum-
stances, to condemn a man. The almost omnipo-
tence of his own will is at once his salvation and
the cause of his responsibility. Nature furnishes
the materials, but man fashions the tools and makes
the furniture. God gives man forests, but no
house. Every man is the recipient of materials for
the making of character, but it is his time, and his
strength, and his persistency, and his perfect pat-
tern which bring the result. The raw material of
blood and environment are his for higher use.
Even a man's thoughts come to be the greatest
workmen in the building of life. '' As a man think-
eth in his heart so is he." His very features are the
lines upon which his thoughts are written. The
secret things of the soul reveal themselves at last.
A German boy was reading a blood-and-thunder
novel. Right in the midst of it he said to himself:
" Now, this will never do. I get too much excited
over it. I can't study so well after it. So here it
goes! " And he flung the book out into the river.
He was Fichte, the great German philosopher. In

304

LIFE'S DESTINY

every man's life there have been moments of such
revelation, but not always moments of victory.
Skakespeare was arrested for deer-stealing and
brought before a Warwickshire judge. He fled
from the ire of Sir Thomas Lucy and became a
second-rate actor in the theatre. His natural dis-
position was to a dissolute life. Some of his minute
descriptions reveal his thorough familiarity with the
low life and sin of the London taverns. His father
was determined to make his boy live as he had
lived and become an ordinary wool-comber of Strat-
ford, but this boy could not be chained fast to that
kind of an occupation. He harnessed his wagon
to a star and changed the whole course of his life
and at last wrote the dramatic as no mortal has
ever written, and secured an imperishable fame and
made a glorious record in the literary world. His
natural inclination was conquered by his holy reso-
lution. He wrote marvellous dramas, but played
his part better. He never bowed to chance or fate.
The great fact of human existence is that char-
acter makes destiny. Every man comes to his own
place. The motive of a man's heart controls his life
and makes his measure of success. Agassiz so loved
natural history that not a bone, or a bird, or a fish,

305

! \

LIFE'S DESTINY

t :>.

■;i'

or even a strange pebble escaped his notice. The
skeleton of a peculiar fish was brought into the
museum at Cambridge. The excitement of the old
man was intense. He placed it beneath his glass
and examined it hour after hour and forgot his
food and his sleep. He was so enthusiastic over
the studv of God in nature that it became his real
life, and the world crowned him. Why is Pasteur
known the world over and recognized as supreme
authority in his speciality? Because he has been
obedient to the leading great passion of his life.
His discoveries in bacteriology were his delight,
and at last entered into every drop of blood which
coursed through his veins. He could not let it go;
he must toil at it unceasingly. It was on his heart
in the daytime; it was the dream of the night.
Obstacles and difficulties were banished before this
great, overmastering passion and supreme motive
of his life. He could not conceal it; it was him-
self. The inner life stamped itself upon every part
of the external. That was his world. He con-
quered it and owned it. There are no exceptions
to this great rule. Every man fashions his own
world and makes his own future. There is not a

mean moment in Hfe. It is all sublime and glori-

306

LIFE'S DESTINY

ous, freighted with the gold of possibility and
stamped with eternity. The gallery of the human
soul may be covered with works of art and frescoed
with the beauty of fidelity, or it can be a wretched
daub. No space is left blank; something must be
done; even idleness takes a brush in hand and does
its work unceasingly and indelibly. Every stroke
remains forever. Remorse and regret are the asso-
ciates of a man who thus fills his life. If he will not
have flowers he must have weeds. If he will not
have wheat he must have nettles. There is no wis-
dom in challenging the divine economy. The laws
of nature never change to accommodate careless-
ness or negligence. The rule has no exceptions,
and is bold in its demands upon obedience. It never
succumbs to the prayer of ignorance. Gardens and
harvests depend upon an inexorable law. But life also
has its laws, and character bears its sacred and eter-
nal relation to them. Neglect and refusal to obey
forever grows weeds instead of flowers. Intellectual
and physical strength or weakness come always by
their own pathway to every man. Moral nature
is subjected to the same principles. The end has
an inevitable but direct connection with the be-
ginning. Sowing and reaping can be separated

307

'^1

in
oh

■;

LIFE'S DESTINY

only in time. Negative condition is not an option.
There will be growth without cultivation. Pro-
duction is a necessity. Man has the power to de-
clare its kind.

Neither the sluggard nor the fool is relieved
from obligation. Here is evidenced the sharpest
wisdom or the bluntest folly. This great and bind-
ing law does not confine itself to a man's own life.
It even works on with startling and pathetic effect
in the lives of others. It is a delusion to suppose
that a broken commandment touches only the of-
fender's character and condition. He racks his
body, and shatters his mind, and forfeits his prop-
erty, but he is convicted before the suffering of
his family and the blight he places upon society.
No man lives unto himself. He has no possession
exclusively his own. His life itself is a sanctified
trust. Weeds in a garden give their seeds into the
hands of the wind to be scattered in a hundred other
gardens. The far-reaching result of one life is not
measured by the mathematics of the schools. The
eternities and infinities enter into the calculation.
It is a dramatic and tragical moment when man
holds the germs of righteous or evil action in his

hand. He recognizes the result, but knows it only

308

LIFE'S DESTINY

in part. That critical moment shares in the making
of his own destiny and has an emphatic bearing on
his fellow men. He cannot force them, but he can
help or hinder them. There is sin even in neglect
and ill use. The demand is made for right use
and increase. Possession without cultivation is sin.
Riches of any kind — money or opportunity — in a
napkin is under the condemnation of highest jus-
tice. This relates to the whole circumference of
life's circle. Every man has been called a trustee
and a steward. Property is wealth only in its use
in the interests of character. All other values are
subservient to the good done to self or others. This
makes the solemnity of life. What the world calls
defeat may be grandest victory. To strive simply
for fame or wealth is a sign of weakness; they are
not the prize of life. The great laws of the world
do not govern them, nor do the forces of the world
always operate to their possession. They are tossed
about carelessly in the crowd and are not worth
the scramble. To be great in the sight of God
and a man*s own heart is as distant from them as
the east from the west. Here is certainty. Any
one can achieve greatness if he will pay the price.
It is a mastery of self, and a living for others, and

309

i>!

,K:

LIFE'S DESTINY

a divine association. Popularity, and reputation, and
fortune are large words with small meaning. Char-
acter compasses the very eternities themselves. He
who secures these baubles for which the crowd are
madly seeking is simply striving to displace another
man; to outdo his fellow; to embitter human life.
This is the brute law of competition, but there is
a diviner law which ennobles manhood and saves
the world. The world's failure is often heaven's
success. Alexander and Napoleon, Herod and
Caiaphas, and even Cain, were successful. Dante
was an exile; Savonarola a martyr; Homer a beg-
gar, and the great army of missionaries died un-
known in heathen darkness. The greatest failure
in all the world was nailed to Calvary's cross, but
His shall be the most triumphant success of all time
and eternity. Raleigh failed, but his name is
shackled to heroism and nobility. Kossuth failed,
but his deathless fidelity and his golden words will
have power with men until the last second is ticked
off on the clock of time. O'Connell failed, but in
the failure was the seed of enduring fame as the
aspostle of liberty and the silver-tongued orator
of the people. Joan of Arc was burned alive at
Rouen, but she still lives. Lincoln was assassinated

310

LIFE'S DESTINY

in the very centre of his career, but his life is sur-
rounded with a halo of glory. Wykliflfe and Cran-
mer were burned at the stake. The world sliouted
failure; heaven declared victory. " Be of good
comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man," said
Latimer as he stood with his friend at the stake,
" we shall this day light such a candle, by God's
grace, in England as I trust shall never be put out,"
and every word sounded around the world and
echoed through the corridors of the eternal city.
Garrison and Phillips failed, were jeered and hissed
at every turn, but on that very ground men are
building monuments to their memory. Demos-
thenes, and Curran, and Disraeli were thrust to the
heart by the taunts of men, and even driven from
the rostrum, but the power of greatness would
not be silenced, and time, ever faithful, brought
the reward. Apparent defeats may be the great-
est victories. They may kill Wallace, but Scotland
is his monument. Austrian spears may draw
Winklereid's blood, but Switzerland is free. Le-
onidas and his three hundred perish, but they are
greater than the whole Persian army. Men be-
come intoxicated with worldly success who have
not yet discovered real greatness and the eternity

LIFE'S DESTINY

of character. Heaven's dictionary will be a vast
improvement upon our words, and their proper
meaning in the sentence of life. The world's suc-
cess is a cheap and worthless article. One day the
Sultan had a toothache and he sent for the court
dentist, a highly paid and highly honored func-
tionary. The dentist happened to be away from his
palace on a hunting expedition. The Sultan could
not wait, and dispatched messengers to find some
other dentist. They found a practitioner in a poor
quarter of the city whose business scarcely kept
him in food, and they ordered him to accompany
them to the imperial palace. He was first hastily
taken to a clothing store, where his old doLhes were
exchanged for sumptuous garments at the Sultan's
expense, and he was then taken to see his imperial
patient. He extracted the aching tooth and gave
the tortured monarch instant relief. The grateful
Sultan at once made him court dentist, deposing
the absent official. Thus in two hours the dentist
was raised from penury to affluence, and made a
Pasha, with a palace and a princely income. The
good fortune turned his head, and he became crazy.
Promptly again the Sultan acted. The dentist was
deposed; his title, his palace, and his income were

31?

LIFE'S DESTINY

taken away, and in one day he was as poor as be-
fore. Joseph's brethren received seven dollars by
the sale of a part of their own flesh and blood. They
thought it was riches, but no man can sell his own
blood in any manner who is not the loser. Joseph
enters the pit to be buried alive; then becomes a
slave; meets sorrow, and suffering, and misrepre-
sentation, and false imprisonment, but faces them
all like a hero. They were the stepping-stones to
his throne. His own wicked relatives were at last
compelled to bow in humble reverence beneath the
sceptre of character. " The soul that sinneth it
shall die." That is not a mere thread of arbitrary
statement. It is under the law of necessity. That
is the open and downward path to destruction and
death. It is a simple move by which the very fibre,
and sinew, and dignity is taken out of life. Weak-
ness has only one course, and that a downward one.
It rolls on in a mad rush and plunge. Sin has an
irresistible velocity. This is the most emphatic line
of history. It is not false use of language to
frighten. Even the trifling things of life reveal
themselves as tremendous in the end. An opening
through which a pin is thrust with difficulty has
given the reservoir over to be a destructive force of

313

,' I

LIFE'S DESTINY

greatest power. The real wealth of any kind, even
of character, may be thrown away in an instant.
He is a wise man and lives an eloquent life who
considers every moment and circumstance as
freighted with most valuable treasure. The bear-
ing of everything upon character and destiny is
one of the sublimest and most inspiring thoughts
of the human mind. There is character in environ-
ment, and habit, and voice, and motion, and all
things. Who is he? Tell me where he is and what
he does; that is sufficient. The common and
routine things of each day make character, and
character makes destiny. Every man comes at last
where he belongs; where the pathway of his life
leads; he finds his right place. Judas was not an
exception, only a striking example. The truth of
the great principle is in every drop of human blood.
It is better for every Judas not to have been born
than to end 'his life with a sin. Not to exist is
better than to sin. If the lie is on our lips, or the
stolen good is in our hand it is better, at that in-
stant, never to have been born. That startling state-
ment finds its explanation in the sinner rather than
the man. In the sudden shock of some revelation of
human character we are made blind to the many

314

LIFE'S DESTINY

minor offences which pave the way to this climax.
It is possible to hide so much that it seems as if dis-
closure never would be made, but the fatal hour
strikes, and the character is revealed and destiny is
sealed unless God interferes. Self-deception is self-
destruction. He who has lost enough sensitive-
ness to sin so as to fail to see his real nature is not
exempt from the inevitable. Manufactured blind-
ness is not material for excuse. Violation of right-
eous law is never accomplished with impunity.

When the Santa Fe Railroad contractors reached
Williams, Ariz., they attempted to tunnel
through the mountain. A fire broke out in the
workings which was not extinguished until large
quantities of water had been thrown upon it.
Scarcely had new woodwork been put in, when the
fire broke out again, and this time it could not be
put out. It appeared that the geological formation
of the mountain is chiefly limestone in a high degree
of purity. The water used in extinguishing the
first fire had set the lime to slacking. The lime,
as it slacked, dissolved into gas, liquid, and ashes,
which, falling out of place, released the adjoining
strata and exposed a fresh surface to the chemical
action of the air and vapor. How far the strata

31S

■la.

LIFE'S DESTINY

extends is not known, but it looks as if the whole
inside of the mountain would be eaten away. There
are men sometimes to be met with in society who
resemble this mountain. One sin in their nature
leads to another, until their whole being seems to
be given up to the curse.

Great occasions do not make heroes or cowards.
The crisis simply unveils the man. The critical mo-
ment is only the revealer of what we have silently
and imperceptibly become. It is better and easier
to take care of the harvest field at the sowing end.
There is greater wisdom and keener foresight in
planting pure seed than in the unsuccessful attempt
to clean out the tares in the mill. The " by and
by " of action is ruinous to character. Liberty at
first is shackles afterward. The mouth of the river
is not the place to change its course or its charac-
ter. During the long journey, the impurities and
sand have sifted in and the stream of habit have
mingled their waters and increased the size and
muddinessof every Mississippi. At the source is the
opportunity for change and the making of purity.
Right or wrong in life always comes to its appro-
priate reward or punishment. Delay is not escape,
and should not be deceptive. The drop of water

316

LIFE'S DESTINY

and the grain of sand which fell upon the mountain
twenty years ago are the makers of the avalanche
to-day. The single acts of sin may be dropping
into the heart for twenty years and their effect un-
discovered upon the surface. Defiant, boastful man
says, " Behold me; for twenty years I have been
living in this way, and I am perfectly healthy and
happy." It is the wisdom of the fool to say you
should not do this or you should not do that. Here
is the emphatic argument which overthrows all that
religious warning: " Suddenly the tree crashes be-
fore the storm, but the single drop of water found
its way over the joining of limb and trunk to the
very heart, and the years produce weakness, and
decay, and resultant ruin. It is the inevitable. Fu-
ture punishment is not arbitrary, but the natural
and inevitable result of evil desire and evil life. A
man who lives in wickedness has the beginning of
hell in him now. Milton says, " Which way I fly
am hell; myself am hell." The place is already in
the heart. No man can get away from himself.
Every mortal being will come where he desires to
come — not surface desire, but the depest move-
ments of his soul. He lives, and thinks, and plans,
and acts in sin. The future is simply the eflfect of

317

l!':

LIFE'S DESTINY

that cause. His present character demands that
kind of a future. It is character which comes to
its own place. No love for God here — why live
with God there? Life has no ingredient except
what you have placed there.

" We are building every day
In a good or evil way,
And the structure, as it grows,
Will our inmost self disclose.
All are architects of fate,
Working in these walls of time,
Some with massive deeds and great,
Some with ornaments of rhyme.
For the structure that we raise
Time is with materials filled.
Our to-days and yesterdays are the blocks
With which we build."

No one can estimate the bearing of the slightest
event on the final issue. Diamonds are made out
of carbon, and rubies out of coal. Commonest
things fill up the pattern in the mosaic of life. This
is not only an outward and divine judgment, but
the deep, and cutting, and abiding self-condemna-
tion. It is not only so much punishment for so
m»^ ' sin, so many strokes for so many oflfences,
^j ii^V'Zh penalty for so much guilt, but it is the

318

■

LIFE'S DESTINY

holy rebuke of conscience against the whole life.
The soul's implacable wrath against the ofifender.
The laws of society did not hang Judas. Even God
would have forgiven his criminality, black and deep-
dyed as it was. But the foul betrayer could not par-
don himself. The rope about his neck was the
pressure of destiny. He twisted his own rope and
mixed his own bitterness. The ingredients of his
sorrow and ruin were the simple elements of his
life. He came by a direct pathway, but it was his
own choosing, and he was himself and net another.
In the Kensington Gardens, in London, at the
beginning of their enterprise, they sent over to
China, to Oceanica, to India, to Arabia, to Pales-
tine, to Egypt, and parts of Africa, and gathered
specimens of all the beautiful birds. It was a great
collection. They were placed in individual cages
and those cages packed into a huge crate that
covered a third of the deck of the small vessel on
which they were brought from Alexandria. But
when they were taking that immense crate ofif the
ship, by some accident the great iron hook which
lifted it from the deck to the wharf ripped off the
top of the crate. It crashed down on the taffrail, on
some of the iron projections, struck on the side of

319

LIFE'S DESTINY

>i^\

f-ir' V

1^ ':! •

■; ,''1

Is! :

the ship, and then broke on the wharf. It was shat-
tered into thousands of pieces. The cages were
broken apart. Birds of blue and birds of yellow,
birds of red and birds of green, birds from Oceanica,
birds from China, birds from India, birds from Af-
rica, birds from Egypt and from Palestine, were all
set free on the shore of England. They found but
one of those birds, a pelican, and that one is still
shown in the Zoological Gardens in London. The
pelican had done its best to get back to the upper
Nile, but he could not swim or fly so far. But the
other birds evidently went back home. They were
released from their prison, and each went to his
own place. Now, while they were in prison, they
were not going where they wished to go. They de-
sired to be free. They did not wish to be exhibited
in the London Zoological Gardens. That was not
in their nature. But they were placed there by
circumstances beyond their control, and when
providence did release them each went to his own
mate, to his own nest, to his own country, to his
own tree, to the shade of his own natural home,
to his own place.

No cage can destroy the soul's desire. Death is

320

LIFE'S DESTINY

the moment of release, and each man finds his own
place.

But while character is the maker of destiny, the
blessed thought was born in the heart of God to
have Christ the maker of character. Byron had a
dream about the sun being blotted out of the heav-
ens and the shocking results which followed, but
it was not all a dream. George Stephenson, who
invented the first locomotive, was once standing on
a terrace when he saw the smoke and steam of an
engine at a distance. Turning to a friend, he said,
" Do you know what drives that engine? " "Well,
I suppose some Newcastle driver." " But what
makes the engine go? " The friend confessed him-
self unable to answer. " Well, then, I will tell you;
it is the sun that drives that engine." The light
and heat of the sun had been stored away in the
coal mines during the passing centuries, and now
this heat was released from its prison in the fires
of the engine. The heat produced the steam, the
steam moves the engine, therefore it is the sunbeam
wliich pushes the train. We warm ourselves at the
fireside because the sun was warm. That same
sun provides water, and the iron, and even the vital
processes of our own bodies. The sun draws the

321

LIFE'S DESTINY

:! I

gardens and harvests out of the earth. It brings
light and hfe everywhere.

That is the relation of the Son of God to human
life. He is the author and finisher of character. He
is everything to any man. To be a man is a grand
thing. " Before I go any further," says Frank Os-
baldistone in " Rob Roy," " I must know who you
are." " I am a man," is the answer, " and my pur-
pose is friendly." " A man? " he replied; " that is
a brief description." " It will serve," answered Rob
Roy, " for one who has no other to give. He that
is without friends, without coin, without country,
is still, at least, a man." But a better statement was
made by a young man recently converted from
darkest heathenism. He said to the man who told
him the sweet story of a Saviour, " When you go
home write it down in your book that I am Jesus
Christ's man." That is the sublimest position in
the world. To be " Christ's man " is eternal vic-
tory. Rider Haggard, in one of his fascinating
books has an exciting chapter in which the weary
travellers who have braved starvation and countless
dangers, at last reach the renowned cave in which
is hidden an innumerable collection of diamonds,
every one of which is worth a fortune. They are

32?

LIFE'S DESTINY

iting
feary
tless
Ihich
[nds,
are

within an inch of becoming millionaires. Their mis-
sion is all but accomplished, when the door, which
can only be opened on the outside by a secret
spring, quickly closes and they are caught like mice
in a trap. Surrounded by countless diamonds of
rarest value they are, nevertheless, buried in a hope-
less tomb. That is real life rather than fiction. It
is sternest truth. There are no riches for an im-
prisoned soul, but Christ comes with liberty and
life everlasting. Christ does not come to a man as
some external help, like ? cane, or a crutch, or a
guide, but He comes as breath and blood. The
stronger and nobler we are, the more we need Him.
To believe in Christ is to be like Him. To live as
He lived is to sh?*;e His eternity. He gives inspira-
tion for life, comfort for sorrow, strength for labor,
redemption in death. Christ draws the bow of His
love across the heart-strings and makes the world's
sweetest music in harmony with every note in the
sweet melodies of heaven. The Son of God has the
only real reward in His pierced hand.

In Paris there was a young doctor who had ex-
hibited wonderful skill in surgical operations and
who had pursued an original line of investigation,
which had interested many of the professors, and

LIFE'S DESTINY

which had thrown new light on the branch of medi-
cal science that he had made his specialty. He had
studied, and investigated, and experimented, toil-
ing for " La Gloire," as only a Frenchman can. He
had pursued the bubble, Reputation : he had worked
late and early; and at last Fame, he had it! The
papers in the boulevards were full of the fame of
the young doctor, and it was decided that he should
get, what is the aim and ambition of every French-
man, the red ribbon of the Legion of Honor. He
was on his death-bed, and far gone in consumption,
gaunt and ghastly, with his eyes in a flame, yet with
his mind searching and investigating to the last,
and thinking, " Surely this will bring me undying
fame," when there came to him a messenger with
the red ribbon of the Legion of Honor. When
the eyes of the young man rested upon it, he said,
" Just what I have been toiling for, undying honor."
He took it up, and feeling the hand of death upon
him, he raised himself in the bed, and exclaimed,
" I will not die! I will not die! " and he fell back
and died, with the decoration in his hand.

In the gorgeous ritual that inaugurates the
coronation and enthronement of the popes, there
is a remarkable stage. When the wall that had

324

LIFE'S DESTINY

closed the entrance, where the college of cardinals
had been electing the Pope, has been broken open,
and the voice of the clerk of the Holy College has
been heard proclaiming the name of him who is
to be Pope, a procession is formed to St. Peter's:
and, as they pass with all the splendor of ecclesias-
tical display upon them, up the echoing aisle of
that wonderful building to where the throne is, on
the other side of the high altar, there is a sudden
pause; and amid the silence, before the new Pope,
a priest suddenly appears, within his hand a reed,
and on the top of the reed, a loose bundle of flax.
The lighted taper in his other hand is applied to
the straggling ends of the flax; there is a sudden
flare, and in a moment the ashes have fallen at the
feet of the supreme pontiff; and you hear a sonor-
ous voice say, " Pater Sancte, sic transit gloria
mundi." (Holy Father, thus passeth the glory
of the world.) Another bundle of flax is placed
on the reed; the white ashes sprinkle the place;
and again the voice says, " Pater Sancte, sic transit
gloria mundi." For a third time the impressive
ceremony takes place, and the voice proclaims just
the text, " So passeth away the glory of this world."
The burning flax is a poor symbol of the passing

325

LIFE'S DESTINY

glory of this world. Eternity is the only reality.
Christ alone has the power to change destiny by
changing character. The gift of His character to
an immortal soul is the gift of His glorious destiny.
Let us give the most triumphant shout of mortal
lips, " Thanks be unto God who giveth us the vic-
tory through our Lord Jesus Christ."

326

reality,
tiny by
icter to
lestiny.
mortal
;he vic-