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II f-iMwHmmtmmMiumi PREFACE. nPHIS little volume is composed of addresses which were delivered to audiences, mainly of young people, in Cleveland and Boston. I have deemed it best not to change their style, but to send them forth as they were spoken. The simple directness of counsel and appeal which marks them as addresses will aid rather than hinder their usefulness. To myself all of these addresses are fragrant with tender and ineffaceable memories of the many young people for whom they were first written, and freighted with warm affection for the many other young people to whom they were last spoken. In the love and sympathy of all these responsive hearers, I have found continual comfort and inspiration in my work- Boston, 1893. ■W^ i IJ ■i /- CONTENTS. Chapter 1. The Aim of Life II. Character .... III. Habit IV. Companionship . . • V. Temperance .... Debt The True Aristocracy Education .... Saving Time .... Charity Ethics of Amusements XII. Reading XIII. Orthodoxy .... VI. VII. VIII. IX, X XI Pagb II 26 54 . 77 . 101 . 123 . 145 , . 164 . 189 . 210 . 230 . 251 . 278 . ^■■u.. . r ■ f THE AIM OF LIFE. That life is long which answers life's great end. — Young. Life 's but a means unto an end ; that end, Beginning, mean, and end to aU things, — God. — Bailey. Nor love thy life, nor hate j but what thou liv'st live well ; how long or short permit to heaven. — MiLTOM. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. — Ecclksiastes. life is a misrion. Every other definition of life is false, and leads aU who accept It astray. Religion, science, philosophy, though still at variance upon many points, all agree in this,— that every existence is an aim. — Mazzini. Love not pleasure ; love God. This is the Everlasting Yea wherein all contradiction is solved; wherein whoso walks and works, it is well with him. — Caklyls. IT is the high distinction of man that he is capable of living with an aim, — that is, with a purpose which, reaching through all his life, unifies it, and gives it directness and force. An aim in life is impossible to creatures that have not reason. It would be impossible to man if he were an automaton, — if he were not a rational, free personality, havings duty and a destiny. There is, then, a singular abdication '"*>9*^''*>^w«*" " S**^ i*-»f-»- ! I 12 The Aim of Life. of his real dignity by the man whose life is without purpose; and there is no more serious and important matter for the young to consider than just this one of life's aim. It is important because it intimately concerns success, and. still more, because it concerns the formation and development of character. I wish you to think of this whole subject with a new seriousness and force. Life is tremendous in its possibilities. More than half the battle for true success is won in beginning right. I do not ask now, what is your aim in life? That question we shall mutually consider a little later. Let us first think about the general question. The aim of life includes both an object or end toward which the life moves, and a purpose which impels to that end. By this phrase I now mean the supreme object and the rulmg purpose of life. One may have many minor and subordinate aims; he can have but one supreme aim, and from this supreme aim all the others take their real character. Our aim in life is that object or end which draws to itself our highest thought and aspiration and en- deavor; and it is that purpose which, con- sciously or unconsciously, makes the strong mid-current in the stream of our activity that ever moves onward, however many may be the whose life is I more serious ng to consider t is important ccess, and, still formation ana )le subject with ; is tremendous If the battle for ig right. I do in life? That ler a little later. ral question, in object or end and a purpose r this phrase I and the ruling ve many minor 1 have but one upreme aim all acter. Our aim ;h draws to itself iration and en- >se which, con- ikes the strong our activity that nany may be the TAe Aim of Life. <3 eddies and transient back-currents that perplex the stream's margin. The aim of life is that which creates life's tendency, and supremely determines conduct. The real aim of life, let me remind you, is not always the apparent aim ; for men are often self-deceived as to their chief end, and often others are deceived by them. But conduct, in the long run, must be consistent with our ruling purpose, for it is this which qualifies, and directs conduct. What you are supremely living for determines the course you are taking year in and year out For example, there are two main directions either of which your life may pursue : one is toward the good ; the other is toward the evil. A stone thrown from the hand goes up or down ; it never keeps a horizontal line. Gravitation pulls it toward the earth; the moment it leaves the hand gravitation be- gins to overcome the upward propulsion and at last is completely victorious. The track of the stone is a curve the farther end of which rests on the ground. In the realm of the moral life there are only two tendencies and directions, upward and downward, — the gravitation toward the evil, and the attraction or propulsion toward the good You can find in God's universe no neutral course for a moral being. There may € The Aim of Life. L":r^Xbut" trl^thas adeanite Tend ^his way or that. The ne of those trite 3 many forget or :al consequences Always you are ou are becoming which you are ich you are now success or failure :termined. lent in your expe- and deliberately what am I becom- 1 character? " made, the purpose kes your life-story people step upon life, and amidthe ioniogs that rise in question scarcely The Aim of Life. 15 appears. They ask, " How can I best earn a living? What trade or profession shall I learn? What business shall I follow? How can I get an education? How can I secure pleasure? How can I make a fortune?" Bi»t deeper than all these is the one question that gives meaning to all the rest: " What am I living for f What shall be the supreme purpose and result of my life?" The thoughts that I wish to present to you now gather themselves naturally about three simple propositions : — I. The first of these is : Every one ought con- sciously to have an aim in life. Whether he is conscious of it or not, every one has a ruling tendency; but every one should have a con- trolling and persistent purpose in life. No one has a fight to live aimlessly, for no one has a right to abandon reason and self-control, and consent to be a mere waif drifting hither and thither like some plaything of the winds. We are endowed with powers that make us capable of good and often great achievement. We are gifted with reason and conscience and will, in order that we may both become and do that which is noble and beneficent. '< For what are men better than sheep or goata. That nourish a blind life within the brain," The Aim of Life- it if they live without any purpose that is essen- taly hgher than the instincts which promp them to L and sleep and propagate the.r kmd ? nTh mythology of the Greeks Phaeihon- earthly son of Helios, aspired to drive the flam- ing chariot of the sun. The task was beyond Z human powers, and his <»-st-us ^h^^^ was expiated by his death by a bolt hurled from r hand of Zeus; but the Naiads, who buned him, wrote in his epitaph: — « He could not rule his father's car of fire ; ■ Yet was it much so nobly to aspure. He is not worthy to live who only vegetates ; he doe^ not truly live who drifts aimlessly through the years from youth to age. Indeed he whose aim is even lower than the highest less than the greatest, is nobler than he who has no conscious purpose in life. But. besides being ignoble, a purpose ess hfe is inefficient; to aim at nothing is to hit noth- neThe cannon-ball strikes somewhere in- dexed, though the cannon be fired at random. So each of us is moving toward some end. ti^ough that end, undetermined by choice and 3 endeavor, demonstrates ^^^^^^^^^^ failure of a life. Each soul should be. not the missile aimlessly flung upon destiny by external dfe. >se that is essen- ts which prompt )agate their kind ? eks, Phaethon, an to drive the flam- task was beyond lisastrous rashness a bolt hurled from Jaiads, who buried er's car of fire j^ to aspire." vho only vegetates; no drifts aimlessly th to age. Indeed, r than the highest, »ler than he who has le, a purposeless life thing is to hit noth- ikes somewhere, in- be fired at random, r toward some end, tiined by choice and :rates the futility and ul should be, not the »n destiny by external The Aim of Life. 17 forces, — not the ball that flies wildly to an unperceived mark, — but the gunner that aims his piece, or rather, as if he were gunner and ball in one, and with conscious purpose and inherent propulsive force, speed onward to a definite goal. /Many a man falls short of that at which he almed,^nd some men attain more or other than the' specific object which they sought ; but no one who has lived with a pur- pose has failed of a certain efficiency. / The dreary and desert hell of utter failure is reserved for the soul that has not lived, but existed without aim./ Of first iihpoptance, then, in the considera- tion of the question as to what your life shall be, is the fact that you cannot avoid moving toward some end, good or bad, and that it is your duty to move consciously in the line of a clearly defined purpose. 2. The second proposition that I would present to you is : The supreme aim of life should be con- sonant with the nature and capabilities of the whole man. The chief end sought should be such as to bring to their highest development all our powers, mental and spiritual. It should be comprehensive enough to include all right temporal ends, and of such moral excellence and attractive force as to subordinate to itself in ^ i8 The Aim of Life. complete harmony all the limitless detail of our daily choices, plans, and endeavors. It is a principle of practical ethics that every man should aim to do some one thing m h.s world supremely well; and in order to atum the highest efficiency, it is necessary that each should do that for which, by temperament and training, he is best fitted. There is a natural division of labor indicated by natural aptitudes, one man is born with a special apt.tude for trade, another for invention, another for teach- ing, another for mechanics, another for persua- sion and argument. No man can do all thmg^. or even many things, equally well; efficency inexorably demands concentration of effort. Definiteness of aim in life's work is a chief fac- tor in successful achievement. Aimless effort is fruitless effort, save as it is fruitful in mischief, like the action of an idiot or a madman. His- tory and experience abound in illustrations of this truth. The failure of many a business man is clearly traceable to his lack of concentration upon some one line. The manufacturer who dabbles in stocks, and cultivates margins in oil and wheat, will, as the rule, soon find himself with a depreciated credit and a short account at the bank. The majority of men. if they would succeed, must be content to do one thing and to do that with all their might. ife. less detail of our avors. ethics that every one thing in this n order to attain cessary that each temperament and [lere is a natural natural aptitudes : ecial aptitude for another for teach- nother for persua- I can do all things, ly well; efficiency itration of effort, irork is a chief fac- . Aimless effort is fruitful in mischief, r a madman. His- l in illustrations of any a business man ck of concentration manufacturer who ates margins in oil ;, soon find himself nd a short account y of men, if they tent to do one thing ;ir might. The Aim of Life. 19 If you are fitted to be a mechanic, be a mechanic, and such a mechanic that those about you will find your services indispensable. If you arc fitted to make shoes, make shoes, and such shoes as all the world will wish to walk in. If you are fitted to be a farmer, be a farmer, and with such assiduity and skill that the earth will give to you as to a master the meed of her most abundant harvests. Be ar- tisan, be engineer, be merchant, be lawyer, be physician, be teacher, be artist, be poet, be a worker, a producer of values, a true servant of your fellow-men, — and,^whatever you do. do that with all your eriergy;/ only thus can you hope to attain any temporal success worth having. But, remember, the main business of life is not to do, but to become ; and action itself has its finest and most enduring fruit in character. All these ends in the sphere of utility are relative ; they are not ultimate. No man has a right to be a mere tool, a mere wheel or spindle in the great manufactory of the world ; and no man can rest with lasting satisfaction in the achievement of any material end. He whose entire mind is concentrated on some temporal object, who seeks only success in business, or eminence at the bar, or fame in literature, will ao The Aim of Life. find at last that there are capabilities in his nature for which he has not provided. He may reach what he aimed at. — wealth, power, pleas- ure, fame, i— and be. after all, essentially a poor creature. No earthly and selfish pursuit can absorb the whole of a man's thought and desire without doing him irreparable harm.y What is more pitiable than a rich man with a little soul, or a learned man with a starved and shrivelled heart? Manhood is of more worth than money ; character is more precious than craft or skill. Fulness of being is superior to cncyclopjtdic learning; the graces of gentleness and pity and love are more beautiful than all the accom- plishments of art. Integrity and wisdom and chivalrous temper are better than power and fame To be a capable artisan, a successful salesman, a great financier, an eloquent orator, a brilliant writer, or an accomplished teacher is of much less importance than to be a true, whole man. a true, whole woman. Completeness in life is attained only in the line of some aim which, including any or every temporary end, and giving it worth, reaches beyond earth and time to find its full scope in the eternal life of the soul. 3. Our discussion has prepared us now lor the third proposition: The one aim which fulfils '^ The Aim of L ife. 31 ipabilitics in his ovided. He may ilth, power, pleas- essentially a poor Ifish pursuit can lought and desire ! harm.y What is with a little soul, ed and shrivelled orth than money ; lan craft or skill. to encyclopsedic ntleness and pity lan all the acconi- and wisdom and : than power and tisan, a successful 1 eloquent orator, nplished teacher is lan to be a true, an. Completeness ; line of some aim try temporary end, beyond earth and I the eternal life of epared us now for me aim which fulfils all the conditions of a perfect aim is that indi- cated \r\ the familiar words, " Fear God and keep His cotnmatidmenls, for this is the whole duty of man." Let us interpret largely, for in religion and morals the large interpretation is always the most likely to be right. " Fear God," — that is, believe in God with the reverence that is the soul of true worship, and the love that is the spring of true obedience. " Fear God and keep His commandments" is the com- prehensive formula of practical righteousness, " for," as the wise man pithily adds, " this is the whole duty of man." Here are presented both object and purpose great enough to com- prehend the entire range of human aspiration and endeavor. You may think long and care- fully and you will not be able to conceive and formulate an aim higher and broader than this. (I.) It is the highest conceivable, for God is the ultimate Excellence ; He is the source and sovereign and goal of life. He is supremely holy; to serve Him perfectly is to become like Him, therefore to attain the highest excel- lence. He is sui-icmely good, therefore to love Him perfectly is to attain the greatest blessed- ness. He is supremely wise, therefore to obey Him perfectly is to be in absolute security, and at the same time to be in the realm of absolute I! 22 The Aim of Life. liberty, /it is the nature of man to grow like him whom he devotedly serves. / God is the absolute ideal of moral beings. 'The goal of the finite spirit is likeness to the Infinite Spirit and participation in the infinitude of His beauty and power and joy; t aim at less than this is to sink below the noblest and divinest possibility of our nature, which derives its being from *(2 ) This aim is the broadest conceivable, for it includes all that is good. It is consonant with our whole nature: it brings under one perfect law body, mind, and spirit, and thus co-ordinates all our capacities and powers. For God calls a man to be upright and pure and generous, but He also calls him to be intelligent and skilful and strong and brave. You can have no excellence of mind or heart, or of body even, which has not place in the true ideal of godliness. You can have no grace of person, or power of hand and brain, that has not place and use in God's scheme of human life. There is thus the widest scope for a true ambition. There is nothing that it is right to do, and that is worth doing well, but will be done better when the motive does not exhaust itself in the specific achievement, but goes on to God. thus making the achievement a tribute to him. Adam Bede KSm^ m i ^m i mnmiMiism The Aim of Life. 23 an to grow like es. / God is the (. 'The goal of le Infinite Spirit de of His beauty less than this is ivinest possibility- its being from t conceivable, for It is consonant rings under one spirit, and thus ind powers. For ht and pure and n to be intelligent brave. You can ■ heart, or of body the true ideal of grace of person, hat has not place uman life. There a true ambition. it to do, and that is done better when tself in the specific God, thus making him. Adam Bede rightly thought that, " Good carpentry is God's will," and that " scamped work of any sort is a moral abomination; " and he was wiser than he knew when he said: " I know a man must have the love o' God in his soul, and the Bible's God's word. But what does the Bible say? Why, it says as God put His sperrit into the workman as built the tabernacle, to make him do all the carved work and things as wanted a nice hand. And this is my way o' looking at it : there 's the sperrit o" God in all things and all times — week-day as well as Sunday — and i' the great works and inventions, and i' the figuring and the mechanics. And God helps us with our head-pieces and our hands as well as with our souls; and if a man does bits o* jobs out o working hours, — builds a oven for 's wife to save her from going to the bakehouse, or scrats at his bit o" garden and makes two potatoes grow instead of one,— he 's doing more good, and he 's just as near to God as if he was running after some preacher and a-praying and a-groaning." There is the best sort of practical theology in these homely phrases. The service of God is not something apart from the daily life ; it is the daily life motived with true piety. Do you covet excellence in any work? Do that work for God, and your motive, purified and spirit- The Aim of Life. ualized, will be reinforced by the finest forces m your nature; your aspiration will become m- spiration. and you will push your work w.th a glad enthusiasm. Commerce, mechanics, statesmanship, htera ture and art are all consecrated m the thought I" him who works for God Think you Angeo did not reach nobler results because he carved his own faith in forms of breathmg "l^-'ble. and painted it abroad in the glory of ^'s frescos Think you Hugh Miller read the story of the Lcks less eagedy and carefullyj>ec-se .^^ that he was reading the thoughts of God writ en deep in the strata of the earth? Thmkyou Carey made poorer shoes because while he sSed and hammered at his cobbler's-bench h love of God made melody in his heart, and great schemes of missionary enterprise took fhape in his mind? My young friends, the true se^ice of God is so broad, so mspmng so strong and pure in its motives, that by it all life s Ufted to a higher plane. No honest work is so dS when done for Him. and you ^--;; force or faculty of hand or heart which will not find most powerful stimulus and freest play m 'tLfalUhatyou do is truly^done for God you escape that bondage in which so many men The Aim of Life. 25 e finest forces in will become in- ourwork with a smanship, litera- d in the thought hink you Angelo ecause he carved thing marble, and y of his frescos? the story of the [y because he felt ghts of God writ- arth? Think you because while he is cobbler's-bench ^ in his heart, and y enterprise took ig friends, the true so inspiring, so :s, that by it all life No honest work is and you have no eart which will not and freest play in ruly done for God, ivhich so many men labor, — the bondage to the material and tempo- ral. How much work is mere grind in a dull round of days without horizon; how much work indeed, seems linked with peril to our best selves ! We are depressed or corrupted by our very labor. " Nature is subdu'd To what it works in, like the dyer's hand." There is danger even in achievement ; but you may win wealth safely when you win it for God, for then, through you, it becomes ministrant to humanity. You may grasp power without harm when you seek it and wield it for Him ; you may covet the magic charm of poetry and art with- out rebuke when you make it a service of melody and beauty to Him. All that is good is God's ; and if you are His, all that is good is yours. No toil done in love is drudgery, and the love of God casts a halo around the humblest task. This highest, broa^t aim,^_jdie service of God, gives scope for all genuine self-culture, — ofbody as well as of mind, of mind as well as of spirit. " Godliness is profitable for all things," said Saint Paul, " having promise of the life which now is, and of that which is to comej' and " the bodily exercise " which in the preceding line he says "profiteth little," has no reference to a 1 The Aim of Life. /- J ««r tn well instructed man. God nor *°7^"*"^m„et culture. get power ; S;Htuwo':S;ofan.ha.youcan«ina„d °^^'^- « God plants u» where we grow." „a He UUes deUgh. in ^^-„»— U I. attainaWe by «'• J 'b„, „„ „ay be good world mcasorM greatness, y is to be "'* *',T?o°"er is t' t-t reltness that great at 1««- f°'*"' '^ "„,y „„, be rich in " "°* '^a„rbuTyou may be rich in knowl- houses and lands but y y^^^ ^^ ^ ^ ■^^^ '^ I A?e'r can plnnder. You may not bum, and no thiel can v ^^ be skilful in i--''""'"* ifih" artof IWng which is better, f '"' " ^^'.^f „ial. You ;-r;:prby%hes^..of^^£^-^ „ay have the finer l""" "V J™ ^ b„rt, of rrr;':;4T.Syo?^;^bave,theioy ■^^% Afe. the self-macera- easing neither to lan. ulture, get power; are got that you B God. Make the of yourselves for at you can win and we grow," ur attainment is open to all, and is not be great as the ut you may be good and that is to be 1 true greatness that lay not be rich in lay be rich in knowl- \ riches no fire can ider. You may not art, but you may be, \ the art of living i midst of trial. You move multitudes to I of geniusibut you of giving comfort to I healing the hurts of II may have, the joy The Aim of Life. 27 of living purely and helpfully, and of seeing in every vicissitude of life the guiding hand of your Father, in every flower some gleam of His beauty, in every star a sign of His watchfulness, and in every rainbow that springs its arch over the path of the retreating storm a radiant renewal of His faithful and gracious promise. Through misfortune you may fail in business, but, loving God, you cannot fail of life's true crown. You may be assailed by the envy or hate of men who misunderstand you ; you can- not be hindered from possessing an impreg- nable peace. If you aim supremely at worldly success, and fail, your failure leaves you poor indeed ; but if you aim only to do the will of God, no earthly loss can impoverish you, and death will but usher you into habitations which God's hand has builded and no shock of disas- ter can destroy. Here, then, is an aim in life which draws the soul upward and not downward, which is so broad as to give scope to every power of your nature, and which is attainable by all who seek. What do you think of it ? You are beginning, or have just begun, the serious business of life ; your heads are full of plans, and your hearts are full of wishes and hopes and fears. Some of you look forward with buoyant spirits to the prize %"'"'"' tttl°d1.- fresh Eift, have better thoughts, -thoughts dis ifdfom an honored ^Aer's counsels. » - . *i,«r'= oravers To you life, though it is SCeisCrandfJl of promise; wb^t will you do with it? At the begmmng of the rou, perhaps, are the struggle for and the future : little thought or 3-day be pleasant. ) you; what will ideals are form- hat conception of ur future action, piration is natural young men have airy and upright- th, a youth without aspirations, shocks i monstrous. Says ; is no misfortune )Ut a sense of nobil- :han not to see the »luptuary, the worn- anthrope whose pes- is own unloving and m against life as not whom life is God's jhts, — thoughts dis- ler's counsels, a lov- you life, though it is ill of promise; what the beginning of the The Aim of Life. journey, whither are you going ; what is your aim ? Forget my voice and listen to the voice of God speaking inarticulately yet intelligibly in your heart and to your conscience. That voice is commanding you to a purpose and aim, and inviting you to a service which welcomed and accepted will make your life pure, beautiful, and divine. A sacred burden is this life ye bear : Look on It, lift it, bear it solemnly, Stand up and walk beneath it steadfastly. Fail not for sonow, falter not for sin; But onward, upward, till the goal ye win." 29 CHARACTER. . CHARACTER is properly educated wiU-NovAt". Character maWe,ltsownde.tiny.-MKS. CAMPBELL PRiun^. Character « the dUmond that .cratche. every other .tone. "Whal the .upeHor man seeWs » in himself ; what the .mall raZ seek. U in other.. - CoNFUC.u.. Character is the mora, order «,en through the medium of an individual nature -EMERSON. "ThTIvTbow before the good and the wicked at the gate. of the righteous. - Pro..r6s ./Solomon. Look, as I blow this feather from my face, And a. the air blow, it to me aga*"' SbeyingwithmywindwhenldoWow, And yielding to another when it blow.. Commanded alway. by the greater gu.t ; Such I. the Ughtne.. of you common^«- ^^^ /CHARACTER is a very different thing from (-"reputation, though often the two are con- founded Reputation is what a man .s though to be ; character is what a man is. The one is opinion; the other is fact Circumstances and Character. 3i R. ll._NOVAUS. Mrs. Campbell Praed. Itches every other stone. himself; what the small I. through the medium of ives some trace behind; to make us what we are. I the wicked at the gates xon. ler from my face, » me again, hen I do blow, when it blows, he greater gust; ^ou common men. SHAKE8PEARB. different thing from ften the two are con- hat a man is thought I man is. The one is Circumstances and associations, or even artful management, may give one for a time a fictitious reputation; but his character is himself, and that at last makes his real reputation. A man may be honestly indifferent to reputation; but he cannot be honestly indifferent to character. The former may affect his temporal condition; but the lat- ter determines his destiny. The word "character" is a Greek word, as many of our best words are, and is transferred, not translated, into our English speech. The verb Yapa(Ts put into the stamping machine in the mmt, and that part of the machine called the " die " strikes it, leaving an impress, — as, for example, the figure of an eagle with an encircHng legend, — and that impress is the character of the 32 The Aim of Life. piece ; it tells what the piece is and declares its worth. Our English word " type " has a similar origin. It came from the Greek verb TUTrTw, which means to strike, whence the noun TV-jro?, type, which means first, a blow, and then, an impression or mark which is the result of a blow. This simple lesson in etymology will help you to a clear idea of what character means. Your character is the mark or impress on you that declares your real quality and worth. That is, your character is what you are in moral quality ; for, because man is pre-eminently a moral being, this word, " character," has taken to itself an almost exclusively moral significance. You see, then, the inseparableness of charac- ter from self. If you would have a good char- acter you must be good. If you are bad, no matter what others think of you, your character is bad ; you cannot escape from your character. A man may run away from a bad reputation, for that is something outside of himself; he can never run away from a bad character, for that is himself. A man's reputation is like his shadow, which, according as the sun is high or low, may be longer or shorter than himself, or may even disappear altogether, as when the sun is at the zenith; but his character is like the color life. s and declares its las a similar origin. ;rb rinrrto, which noun Tw-jroif, type, then, an impression a blow. )logy will help you cter means. Your press on you that J worth. That is, e in moral quality ; ntly a moral being, taken to itself an [nificance. ibleness of charac- have a good char- [f you are bad, no ^ou, your character om your character. bad reputation, for »f himself; he can haracter, for that is I is like his shadow, n is high or low, lan himself, or may i when the sun is at er is like the color Character. U of his eyes, look which way be will, that is the same. "No change of circumstances," says Emerson, "can repair a defect of character." If your character is evil it can be repaired only by your moral renewal. Having got now a clear idea of what character is, let us think about the ways and means by which it comes to be good or evil. I. The first thing to fix in our minds is the truth that character is formed. It is not in- herited any more than gold when it comes from the mine bears the impress of the minter's " die." You are born with a nature which has certain susceptibilities, and' tendencies, or appetencies, but no character. Character is the result of forces, chief among which are your own choices and volitions; you make your own character. You did not choose the lot in which you were born ; that was chosen for you. You did not create your temperament ; that you inherited from your parents. But what you become is mainly the product of your own vvill. Wisely and most beneficently has it been ordained for man that " Himself from God he [canl not free." Deeper and more vital than the truth that Nature and human life are man's constant en- vironment is the truth that Divinity is man's 3 The Aim of Life. 54 * n..t it has been ot lained also destiny. .. Men at .om. time are mwter. of .heir fate. , ThJ fault, dear Brutu.. i. not In our .tar., ii; in o«r.elve.. that we are underling.. Here is a fundamental principle •• '.t is your p"r gatlve to shape morally your own futur man s true dignity as viic utiaMv r~l. it is this which separates him so widely f .t hmtls A Mute, not being moral, can l'°". I^char«ter an7th;refore no destiny; i. ra:nJ^;:^lndhreeas^n..es^a.^^^^^^ rr^r:t;'w'S,!:^ i^^^ of unlimited n!en|al -^. -'"Vt^X i on^ pansibiUty upward is infinite The oo y , ^':^t.i'er=-onist;':re,.„d r; :«*«n:to be entirely subordinate and IuTL Irs. I physical e,.upn,en, man , n orlained also termine his own I their fate* i our ttart, derlingB." ciple; it is your your own future, r is the mark of ture and child of es him so widely : being moral, can )re no destiny; it I dies, and so com* ife. But man has md the possibility al growth ; his ex- The body is only ; the bodily func- i' of his nature, and ly subordinate and 1 and spiritual life, arth, his head may equipment man is, beasts ; but by his :nts he is raised far taster. Reason and Iter than that of the Character. 35 elephant, a swiftness beyond that of the horse, and a skill infinitely surpassing that of the ant and the beaver ; while his spiritual nature lifts him out of any real kinship to the beasts. A baby seems to have little more than an animal nature, but quickly it reveals capacities that belong only to a spiritual being capable of knowing God and of participating in His power and wisdom and holiness. In a word, man is capable of moral character, and this character he creates by the exercise of his moral powers in the various situations and experiences of his life. But the process of character-formation goes on through the action and inter-action of many forces. The totality of a life, at any moment, is the product mainly of little things. Trifling choices, insignificant exercises of will, unimpor- tant acts often repeated, things seemingly of small account, — these are the thousand tiny sculptors that are carving away constantly at the rude block of life, giving it shape and feature. Indeed the formation of character is much like the work of an artist in stone. The sculptor takes u rough, unshapen mass of marble, and with strong, rapid strokes of mallet and chisel quickly brings into view the rude outline of his design; but after the outline appears, then :«»«»««« '-^ ' .it^v ,j;'i ' aa^j'g 36 The Aim of Life. come hours, days, perhaps even years, of patient minute labor. A novice might see no change in the statue from one day to the other; for though the chisel touches the stone a thousand times, it touches as lightly as the fall of a rain- drop, but each touch leaves a mark. A friend of Michael Angelo's called on the great artist while he was finishing a statue; some days afterward he called again, and the sculptor was still at the same task. The friend, looking at the statue, exclaimed : — " Have you been idle since I saw you last? " " By no means," replied Angelo. " I have retouched this part, and polished that ; I have softened tliis feature, and brought out this mus- cle ; I have given more expression to this lip, and more energy to this limb." " Well, well ! " said his friend, " all these are trifles." " It may be so," replied Angelo ; " but recol- lect that trifles make perfection, and that perfec- tion is no trifle." So it is with the shaping of character ; each day brings us under the play of innumerable little influences. Every one of these influences does its work for good or ill ; and all do their work through our consent. By-and-by appears the full and final result. No character is com- It? Cliaracter. 37 n years, of patient It see no change the other; for stone a thousand the fall of a rain- 1 mark. A friend n the great artist atue; some days d the sculptor was friend, looking at 1 1 saw you lasit? " Angelo. " I have ished that; I have jught out this mus- iression to this Up, lend, " all these are Lngelo ; " but recol- ion, and that perfec- of character; each >lay of innumerable e of these influences ill; and all do their By-and-by appears No character is com- pleted at once. The general outline may be manifest early in life, but through succeeding years the slow process of filling up that outline goes on, until at last the character stands forth in all its developed beauty or hideousness. It is difficult to trace the process in minute detail. Each day's choices leave their mark on the chooser; to-day's deeds are to-morrow's habits, and the sum of one's habits is his life. What we say has its share in determining what we shall be, for speech has a sure recoil on the speaker. A false word is instantly avenged by its rebound on character ; an obscene jest flings back a stain on him who utters it Our deeds also have an inescapable reflex influence ; what we do helps to make us what we are. All our activities both manifest character and shape character ; deeds are never trivial. You think, perhaps, that you may do many things now which you will not do by-and-by, and that these will have no permanent result in your future condition. It is a dangerous mistake. Many a young man indulges himself in " sowing wild oats," and forgets that every sowing has its harvest. They that sow the wind reap the whirlwind. The sins of youth" are the seeds of many a grievous harvest reaped in ofd age with remorse and unavailing tears. The Aim of Life. \\ 38 There Is no greater blunder than that of ignoring or despising little things. Great cnses of peril or temptation or sorrow test charac- ter and show what fibre it has. But every day of precedent life has been a P'<=P-f >°';; g°°f^ or bad for the crisis. The man who from h.s ^ou'^d been honest in little affairs will safely Lar the shock and strain that come w.th mature years; while ^--)\XZTtjL obligation in small matters falls m moral defeat and ruin when the crucial hour of temptation ^^SSrgwS; our habitual words and c^ed. our associations also have a part to play in the formation of character; the companionships whicS you choose, or to which you wil ingly sub- li are putting their mark on you continually. It " a;" W sayini. that he who keeps thecompany of princes catches their manners. There is a strong contagion in example; it works .ub- Sy and surely, like a fine corrosion etching S into our moral nattire before we know it. l^eliver me from my friends " is often a more pertinen and needful prayer than. " Deliver me K my enemies." Against the latter we are oHuarf. but to the former all gates are open. 'Tt what shall be said about the relation o circumstances to the formation of character? ife. :r than that of rs. Great crises ow test charac- But every day reparation, good an who from his affairs will safely that come with was careless of Is in moral defeat ur of temptation words and deeds, part to play in iC companionships you willingly sub- ^rou continually. It ceeps the company mcrs. There is a le; it works ^ub- corrosion etching before we know it. Is " is often a more than, " Deliver me t the latter we are ill gates are optn. >out the relation of rtion of character? Character, 39 There are many people in the world who have much fault to find with circumstances. They excuse failures and even vices by reference to their unfortunate or evil circumstances. " I am a victim of circumstances," is their confession and plea; but often the confession is insincere, and the plea is cowardly. It is a man's business to be the victor and not the victim of circum- Mtances, as far as his personal character is con- cerned. There are no circumstances in which you cannot be true and honest. If your lot is one of poverty, you may make your very poverty a spur to such diligence and thrift as by-and-by will win the golden key to honest wealth. If you are pressed by adversity, re- member that noble character is no hot-house flovrer which must be sheltered and kept in per- petual warmth, but a hardy plant which defies the frost and the tempest. The very storms of adver- sity will give you firmness of fibre and deep- rooted strength. You may have many trials, but if you so choose, these trials will be but hammers in the forge of life to smite you into finer shape and temper. " Sweet are the uses of adversity," said Shakespeare; priceless are the uses of difficulty and conflict. Edward Burke declared that, " Difficulty is a severe instructor set over us by the supreme ordinance of a parental iSa«iigsW!?ife«*?- f y figgii0iii),i0ijiiiititi0m^^ \,„.^lJUL•.WJ 'B-?-«W 40 The Aim of Life. guardian . . . who knows us better than we know ourselves, as He loves us better too. He that wrestles with us strengthens our nerves, and sharpens our skill; our antagonist is thus our helper." It is said oftentimes, of this or that distinguished man : " Circumstances made him." Believe it not ; circumstances make no man truly great. The clouds in the western sky glow with roseate and golden hues, but their splendor is derived from the setting sun; the radiance of a great personality overflows all his surroundings and gives them a meaning not their own. Indeed, what often are called favorable cir- cumstances are really the most unfavorable to the development of superior character. But, whatever may be the circumstances, a human soul is greater than all its surroundings, and may subject them to its own uses, turning obstacles into allies^ and winning from adver- sity a stubborn strength that throws the world in the wrestle of life. Whipple thus tells a story of Napoleon's general, Massena, which illus- trates the masterful purpose that plucks victory out of the jaws of defeat " 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 Mi ,w;.r, M .Bswai: :r than we •r too. He )ur nerves, nist is thus this or that made him." :e no man western sky I, but their g sun; the lows all his leaning not voraible cir- iavorable to icter. But, s, a human ndings, and les, turning rom adver- s the world tells a story vhich Hlus- icks victory he defeat at attempt to led on the e Emperor Character. 41 despatched a messenger telling him to keep his position for two hours longer at Aspern. This order, couched in the form of a request, almost required an impossibility; but Napoleon knew the indomitable tenacity of the man to whom he gave it. The messenger found Massena 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 hospital 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, six, twenty-four, — as long as it is necessary for the safety of the army.' And ... he kept his word." If you are to form such a character as in your best moments you both admire and covet, you will suffer yourself to be cowed by no circum- stances, however menacing they may be ; you will resist the slightest pressure either of fear or of selfishness ; you will remember always that no evil can master you to which you do not submit. Your own choice determines, not whether you will be tempted or not, but whether or not you will be overcome by temp- vkfimmitiiUikmifmtiiliiimA-'' 43 The Aim of Life. tation ; for the issue of the struggle turns not upon your individual strength alone, but upon your will reinforced by divine power. God is the ally of every soul that seeks wholly to be true. Experience sooner or later corresponds to genuine and noble aspiration. Opportunities for heroism come to him who is fitting himself for heroic action by a daily endeavor to be the best possible in thought and deed now; in the common, unnoted experiences of each succes- sive day we shape the character which can endure the great crises of experience that come to every soul here or hereafter. The formation of character is a vital process. It is not the result of external forces, but of our choice and volition in the sphere of our life's varying circumstances and its complex environment of diverse influences ; it is in some true sense a growth which has a definite type. Character grows and strengthens continually; each day discovers some change in us, and the change is in a specific direction. There is a tendency in us toward fixity of moral nature. This development of character into distinct and permanent form is rapid. Youth is the forma- tive period of life; then the nature is plastic: it receives impressions easily, and the impres- ions are lasting. Did you ever see workmen iSEWsrar— • Z',:,'0-.» turns not but upon . God is ally to be >rresponds portunities ig himself to be the w; in the ch succes- ivhich can that come \\ process. :es, but of ;re of our i complex is in some Suite type, ontinually ; us, and the There is a ral nature, listinct and the forma- ts plastic: he impres- ; workmen Character. <3 making a moulding of plaster about a room? If so, you have observed that when the plaster is placed roughly in the angle where wall and ceiling meet, the workmen lose no time in applying the instrument which gives it the desired form. Why do they hasten ? Because the plaster quickly stiflfens, and must be pressed rapidly into shape or it will harden into an unsightly and unmanageable mass. " Thou art now clay," said Perseus, " moist and pliant; even now must thou be hastily moulded and fashioned uninterruptedly by the rapid wheel." My young friends, you have no time to lose in beginning your supreme task of shaping your characters into forms of symmetry and beauty. You cannot live recklessly to-day and righteously to-morrow; you cannot be foolish and vicious in your " teens " or " twenties,"^ and rationally hope to be wise and virtuous in your " forties." The tendency or disposition to think and act in a certain way now quickly becomes a habit, and habit is second nature; this is true whether the present disposition be good or bad. Truthfulness becomes a habit; purity becomes a habit; honesty becomes a habit. So, also, the opposite qualities, as falsity, dis- honesty, and unchastity become habits. The SS8fi?»SgSSfi®&; I 44 The Aim of Life. i Hi I hi -li hi young man who leads an unclean life is riveting upon himself the loathsome chains of a corrupt habit which only divine power can break. There is no escape from this drift of nature, this tendency of character to stiffen into a definite and permanent type. The critics have discredited the old story of George Washington, who, when a boy, said to his father: "I cannot tell a lie." I believe the story, entirely apart from external evidence, because it is prophetic of the man. The sin- cere, veracious, and inflexibly upright patriot and statesman fulfils the prophecy of the trans- parent, frank, and truth-loving boy. Some men cannot tell a lie ; the habit of truth-telling is fixed, it has become incorporate with their nature. Their characters bear the indelible stamp of veracity. You and I know men Whose slightest word is unimpeachable ; nothing could shake our confidence in them. There are other men who cannot speak the truth ; their habitual insincerity has made a twi.st in their characters, and this twist appears in their speech. A sculptor found a large and beauti- ful block of marble in a quarry. He chose it for a statue, the image of which dawned on his creative imagination; but a few blows of his chisel revealed a vein of color traversing the IIL ,'^4iittatsi"^Sl^«MiSfes>.»ii; • ^ mm is riveting a corrupt :ak. of nature, en into a Id story of }y, said to I believe 1 evidence, , The sin- {ht patriot the trans- Some men h-telling is with their ; indelible men Whose :hing could There are •uth ; their ist in their s in their and beauti- le chose it rned on his lows of his versing the Character. 45 snowy whiteness of the stone. He cut deeper, but the vein was still there, it ran through the entire block; nothing could hide it, no skill could take it out. The stone was rejected. Thus it is with many a character ; some vein of falsity or impurity runs clear through it, and the defect is fatal. The illustration, however, is inadequate ; there is a time when the damaging vein is not in the block of life. We put it there, or suffer it to come, by our own choice ; or if it seem to be there already, as the result of a baleful inher- itance, we can eradicate it by persistently culti- vating that integrity which grows complete in the disciplined and perfected character. 2. Consider, now, some of the principal ele- ments of good character. There is space here for only the briefest mention of these, and the best statement of them would be less impressive and helpful to you than the examples which appear in men and women whom you know, or in those whose personalities and experiences are preserved in biography and history. Better than all others is the great personality of the Son of Man, who " came from God and went to God," and in his brief earthly sojourn ex- hibited the unforgetable and matchless type of what a human soul should be. There has been 46 The Aim of Life, but one perfect man; he was a revelation of true manhood because he was also so true and great a revelation of God. Take him as mode!. Look at his character, — a character formed just as yours is formed, amid earthly conditions and influences that are common, or may be common to humanity. He grew up from sweet, unconscious infancy to serene, victorious man- hood, amid temptation and poverty and mani- fold trial. He was "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; " '* he learned obedience as a son," and was " perfected through suffer- ing." The qualities which he exhibited, — the grace of courtesy and gentleness, the strength of courage and uprightness, the faith and patience and unselfishness, the wisdom and self-sacrifice and devotion to truth, the love of man and God which he showed, — reveal to us : 'le essential elements of perfect human character. If we cannot equal him, we can follow after him, and following after him we shall reach a higher excellence than that to. which any other master can lead us. Many examples of noble and lofty human character came to my mind as I thought on this theme ; but they all disappeared in the calm splendor of his presence, as stars fade when the rising sun soars above the horizon. The. fanat- Character. 47 elation of > true and as model. ;r formed conditions r may be •om sweet, ious man- md mani- rrows and obedience gh suflfer- ted, — the itrength of \ patience If-sacrifice n and God e essential \x. If we ' him, and a higher lier master Fty human liought on n the calm ; when the The fanat- ical caliph, Omar, said of the Koran : " Burn the libraries ; their value is in this book." So one is moved to say of all good and great men, when Jesus appears upon his view : " Let them be forgotten ; their excellence, and more, is all in him." But it will be profitable to consider for a few minutes some of those qualities which all who would attain the best character, — all who, in a word, would be true men and women, — not only may but must acquire. First among these qualities is sincerity, — that is, entire genuineness. There is an old Greek motto : Ow IokAv^ hXtC Hwu, not to setm, but to be. That is the radical purpose of the sincere man. You must be real, — real in speech and real in action; this is the foundation of all moral worth. Let no one deceive himself as to what he is. Look yourselves in the face; banish all subterfuge and deceit. « Be what thou seemest; live thy creed." Insincerity is not a mere fault, it is at once a defect and a vice for which no brilliancy of genius or wealth of acquirements can atone. Inseparable from sincerity is veracity; this is more than simple truthfulness. A man speaks l'^ 48 The Aim of Life. truth when his words correspond with facts ; he is veracious when all his utterance is expressive of the truth which he himself is. A man of sound character is veracious ; such a man, said Emerson, is " appointed by Almighty God to stand for a fact" The speech of such a man has a biblical weight. Another quality of utmost importance \% purity, that freedom from coarseness and pruriency which has been well called " whiteness of soul." It is an inherent repugnancy to whatever is vile ; it is a moral self-respect that shrinks from an unclean thought as from an evil deed. The fabled ermine would die rather than soil its spotless fur. But purity is more than a negative quality, it is a power of spiritual perception. "Blessed are the pure in heart," said Jesus, •• for they shall see God." The pure in heart do see God and live in His continual presence. This purity is not innocency, few of us have that; but it is the disciplined love of moral cleanliness which develops in the very struggle of the soul against the sin that has become self- conscious under the revelation of the ideal, divine holiness. Innocency, like youth, once lost cannot be recovered ; but purity, which is higher, may be attained by every one who strives and faints not. facts; he :xpre9sive V man of man, said [y God to ich a man ;c \% purity, pruriency s of soul." i^er is vile ; s from an eed. The in soil its a negative )erception. laid Jesus, e in heart . presence. >f us have ! of moral ry struggle ;come self- the ideal, outh, once :y, which is ' one who iWAis^'-ftf-A'- 'Si8s^.'4 S «' Character. 49 Another element of the best character is generosity, — that loving good-will toward all creatures which turns the life into a bright, gushing fountain of goodness and blessing. This is the crowning grace of noble character; this makes man most like God, for " he that loves is born of God." You may be sincere and true and pure, but, were such a thing possible, if with all this excellence you have not a heart of love and pity and helpfulness, you are " nothiug." Last, I mention, what has been already implied, steadfastness in loyalty and devotion to the right. It is the capacity to sacrifice every worldly interest in the maintenance of principle. Let me illustrate this by an incident of Scot- land's heroic days. In the time of the Cove- nanters, John Welsh, minister of Ayr, was banished for his fidelity to his faith. His wife, a daughter of John Knox, was told by King James that her husband could return to Scot- land if he would abandon his convictions, inti- mating that she, by a like abandonment, could induce him to do the same. Raising her apron, the noble woman replied, " Please your majesty, I 'd rather kep his head there! " It was such character as hers that made possible the glori- ous history of the Covenanters; it is such character that makes life everywhere heroic. 4 H The Aim of Life. The need of this was not greater in Scotland and the seventeenth century than it is in America and the nineteenth century. In society, in politics, and in religion the call is loud for men and women of stamina, — « Men who have honor, men who will not lie. Men who can sUnd before the demagogue And da.T»n hU treacherous flatteries without winking ; " women who can revitalize our social life with a steadfastness of devotion to high principles which the luxury of wealth and the fascinations of ingenious and boundlessly diversified pleasure cannot undermine. 3. Finally, consider a few moments the worth of character. This scarcely needs demonstra- tion here; life demonstrates it. The world recognizes the worth of character; all men pay tribute to it, the bad as well as the good. A knave ortce said to a man of distinguished honesty: "I would give twenty thousand pounds for your good name." When asked why, he replied, " Because I could make forty thousand by it^" — a knave's answer truly, but at the same time a significant tribute to moral worth. Commerce is built on the faith which good men inspire. " Men of character are the conscience of the society to which they belong; " thev, and not the police, guarantee the execution of law, — ■:<^^»M:m'^ "^ ijBaai jggg fimnYlrrii '^^^""^'-'■'^ iaSM lilmiiillil MaAMa iMnnTijiiNirjrn Scotland it is in \ society, loud for aking;" life with irinciples icinations pleasure ;he worth jmonstra- te world all men :he good, inguished d pounds why, he thousand it at the ral worth, good men onscience thev, and of law, — ^^mfi ^fSsKSsMsfr""' Character. 51 their influence is the bulwark of good government. It was said of the first Emperor Alexander of Russia, that his personal character was equiva- lent to a constitution. Of Montaigne, it was said that his personal character was a better protection for him than a regiment of horse would have been, he being the only man among the French gentry who, during the wars of the Fronde, kept his castle gates unbarred. The man of character is the true aristocrat. Mr. Smiles tells us that Robert Burns was once taken to task by a young Edinburgh blood, with whom he was walking, for recognizing an honest farmer in the open street. " Why, you fantastic gomeril ! " exclaimed Burns ; " it was not the great-coat, the scone-bonnet, and the Saunders-boot hose that I spoke to, but the man that was in them; and the man, sir, for true worth, would weigh down you and nie, and ten more such, any day ! " — an answer worthy of the poet who wrote, — " The rank is but the guinea-stamp. The man 's the gowd for a' that." Fisher Ames, while in Congress, said of Roger Sherman of Connecticut : " If I am absent dur- ing a discussion of a subject, and consequently know not on which side to vote, I always look at Roger Sherman; for I am sure, if I vote 52 The Aim of Life. with him I shall vote right." He was a pious man, says his biographer, faithful in his closet, in his family, on the bench, and in the Senate- house. But I need not multiply instances of tribute paid to character. Thank God, they abound ; there is no one of you but knows some man or woman whose beautiful life makes the earth fairer, and the sunshine more bland, and gives a sounder health to society. Genius may dazzle us, but character draws us upward like a celes- tial gravitation. Accomplishments may win our admiration, but character commands our respect, while it shames our follies, and rebukes our vices. Good men do not die. Thrv r '^ o"t o^ o"*" sight, and leave the walks that k em lone- some ; but in their moral power t -use among whom they lived, they abide, absolving life from grossness, and keeping it wholesome. Their names become household words, are wrought into our speech, and add a new value to coun- try and home. " The memory of the just is blessed." Vou who are young are building your char- acters as those who build abiding habitations. What you shall be in moral quality and power in the far future, not only of time but also of ^^V^^\ 'Hv" WJ^ ^■**w». ,^-„-*v v,#.!55 mms^m^tmi'.-^--''^'- a pious s closet, Senate- f tribute abound ; man or le earth 1 gives a ly dazzle a celes- lay win inds our rebukes It of our em lone- se among life from ;. Their wrought to coun- e just is our char- tations. nd power It also of Character. 53 eternity, you are now determining by your choices and your deeds, by the thoughts that you cherish, and the habits that you form, by your purposes and your faith. The situation is most interesting, and in its possibilities it is un- speakably solemn. Be wise now. Remember that you are not alone in your choice and en- deavor; God is with you, and is working for you and in you. What may seem an insuper- ably difficult task to you, already caught in the toils of nascent habit. He will enable you suc- cessfully to achieve. He has given you a Saviour who is at once your friend and exemplar. Char- acter in its highest form is Christ-likeness. Open your hearts finely to him ; draw upon the inexhaustible sources of his power and grace ; live in his companionship, in his school, under his gentle and strong mastership, and by him you will be safely led, until at last you come " unto a perfect man, — unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ." 'mmmaiiimtfss^mtM'i-^'-'' HABIT. Habit is ten tiiries nature.— Wellington. Small habits, well pursued betimes, May reach the dignity of crimes. Hannah More. It is easy to assume a habit; but when you try to cast it 6ff, it will take skin and all.— H. W. Shaw. Habit ia the deepest law of human nature. It is our supreme strength, if also, in certain circumstances, our miser- ablest weakness.— Carlyle. The law of the harvest is to reap riiore than you sow. Sow an act, and you reap a habit; sow a habit, and you reap a character ; sow a character, and you reap a destiny.— Georoe Dana Boardman. Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life. — Proverbs of Solomon. " O ABIT " is one of the most familiar words '^ of our every-day speech, and its mean- ing is so well known that to define it now seems superfluous; yet we shall find it both interest- ing and useful to trace out its root idea. " Habit " is simply the Latin habitus anglicized by dropping the final syllable. The verb habeo means primarily " to have, to possess," then, " to have in use," and finally, " to have a pecu- lORE. to cast it It is our Dur miser- sow. Sow ou reap a — George ! ttie issues ir words :s mean- w seems interest- lOt idea, nglicized .rh habeo 5," then, a pecu- Habii. 55 Harity or characteristic," — acquiring, thus, in the Latin the exact significance which is expressed by the English word. " Habit" means a mode of action by which one is held so that he has a fixed disposition to act always according to that mode. For example, a man has a habit of ris- ing at a certain hour in the morning, — that is, he is held by the disposition which brings him involuntarily to his feet each day at that specific time; or, he has a habit of using stimulants, — that is, he Is held by the nervous condition which makes him crave the exh'aration of alcohol ; or, he has the habit of promptness in meeting engagements, — that is, he is held by the impulse to fulfil the appointed duty at the appointed hour. The definitive characteristic of habit is the involuntary tendency to perform certain acts, yield to certain impulses, or pass into certain states of temper without the con- currence of distinct and conscious volitions. I. Let us consider the tendency to form habits. This tendency is a "constituent element of human nature. The truth is not simply that we may form habits; we must form habits. We have no discretion in the matter, except as to the kind of habits that we form. Man is a bundle of habits ; character is the sum-total of a man's moral habits. Average human nature. mm fey^Mii^^^,^«tNHi^#.<6&rc*^^^«ltl«'<^d^fii^-)^^S^^ 56 TAe Aim of Life. in its activities, is like a stream which see](s the easiest path to the sea, — if the stream is hin- dered by some obstacle, it flows round the obstacle and so moves on its way; but how- ever tortuous its course may be, it has a definite main trend, and it wears a distinct channel, which it keeps, save as it is turned aside by some external force greater than the force of its own current and the resistance of its banks. So we, in our activities, naturally seek that course which meets the least resistance, and is most pleasant to us; and we quickly wear grooves of habit that hold us as the channel holds the river. Our course may be directed simply by incliration, and then inclination determines habit Our wills, however, if strong, and ruled by conscience and judgment, may determine for us a course quite different from that of natural inclination, and even contrary to inclination. We may choose a course that is difficult and painful; yet even in this case a resolute will is immediately reinforced by the tendency to form habit, and soon that which was difficult and painful becomes easy and pleasant, and inclination itself is at last wholly transformed. Many habits, perhaps it is not too much to say that most habits, begin with s ngle, volun- iri»nimMM-itrifim«i ee^s the 1 is hin- und the )ut how- i definite channel, aside by force of ;s banks, eek that :, and is :ly wear channel directed iclination if strong, ent, may ent from •ntrary to e that is is case a d by the tat which easy and St wholly much to le, volun- Habii. 57 tary acts. The repetition of an act discovers in us a tendency to further repetition, until, after a time, repetition of the original act goes on invol- untarily. A common and sufficient illustration of this is seen in the physical exercise of walk- ing. The first step is a voluntary act; it is a dt' it and even perilous act. Watch a child leat.iing to walk, and you will see the germ of a habit in process of development. Great inter- est centres in the little novice making his first experiment at " getting on in the world." What care is taken by the fond mother that the exper- iment shall result in no mishap. In a little time that which was at first an uncertain effort becomes an assured habit, and walking ceases to be self-conscious and voluntary ; it is hence- forth instinctive and automatic. All forms of physical exercise tend to pass thus from voluntary beginnings into involuntary habits. The easy grace of the gymnast or the bicycle rider, or the precision in drill and manual of the disciplined soldier, is simply well- formed and developed habit. Essentially the same is true of our mental and moral exercises. Habit lies at the basis of all our ordinary action ; everything that we do repeatedly becomes easy and habitual. " How use doth breed a habit in a maa t " s^^itea^^^isif' ■! 4 t 1 58 The Aim of Life. The tendency to form habits is persistent and irresistible ; and on the higher plane of life, the intellectual and moral, it has its largest scope and most fully discloses its fateful power. It is not true that habit has its spring solely in our physical organism; but it is true that all our voluntary acts are mediately caused by, or inseparably connected with, changes in nerve tissue and expenditure of nervous energy. There is a physical side to all our activity of mind as well as of body. The change of tissue is as inevitable an accompaniment of thinking as it is of walking, of praying as of playing on a piano. The exact relation of mind to matter in the human organism is still an unsolved prob- lem; but this at least is clear, that mind and body are inseparable in this world. This also is clear, that all our activities, voluntary as well as involuntary, while they are carried on at the expense of nervous energy, also react on our nervous organism, making definite and more or less permanent impressions. While all habits can scarcely be purely physical, most of them are very largely and some of them wholly phys- ical. The nervous system is like a phonograph into which vibrations are continually sent, and these vibrations register themselves in such a way that they are not only reproducible, but mmmiautimailkiaua^.. istent and 3f life, the rest scope )ower. It solely in e that all sed by, or I in nerve s energy, activity of e of tissue thinking as tying on a ) matter in Ived prob- mind and This also iry as well on at the ict on our id more or all habits St of them loUy phys- honograph / sent, and in such a uciblc, but mmmmm Habit. 59 are continually reproduced. This is evidently true with reference to all habits that have a predominantly sensuous manifestation. Says Dr. W. li. Carpenter : " Our nervous system grows to the modes in which it has been exer- cised." The strength of the habit of alcoholic intemperance lies in this, — that impressions are scored into the nervous organism by stimulants, and these impressions report themselves in the demand of the nerves for a repetition of the stimulant. At first the demand is slight for the impression is slight; but successive indulgences deepen the impressions, and thus the demand grows strong and imperious. The appetite for alcohol is fundamentally physical, though its cause may be an act of the will. Once formed, the appetite cannot be willed out of existence any more than a wound can be willed out of existence; it must be healed. The apprehension of this truth has led many of the wisest thinkers to the conviction that the habit of drunkenness falls within the domain of medical rather than mora pathology, and must be treated as a disease. Within certain wide limits, however, the ner- vous system is immediately subject to the influ- ence of the will ; and by the intelligent use of means that subjection of the nerves to the will 6o The Aim of Life. may be immensely increased. It is in the power of a man " to keep his body under," unless he has lost his power by suflfering appetite, through long indulgence, to usurp authority over him ' until it has intrenched itself in confirmed physi- cal habits. Habits of bodily action are clearly the reflex of impressions repeatedly made on the nerves ; there is no doubt that mental and moral habits also are in large part the expression of reflex nervous action. Do not fear that I am approach- ing a materialistic conception of human life. The soul of man is not matter ; nor is it depen- dent on matter for existence, though it is de- pendent on material organs for expression. The body is not the man, but the man's instrument. The more we learn about it and its relations to the soul the better ; for bodily conditions po- tently affect the entire range of life, from those activities which ally us to the brute up to those which reveal our kinship to God. Thought is not produced by the brain ; but it is elaborated through cerebral instrumentation, and, appar- ently, is registered on the cerebral tissues. Our habits of thinking have thus a physical basis. This is equally true of our spiritual exercises, for all these have a rational element, — that is, they all involve mental action, and mental action is n the power ' unless he ite, through { over him ' rmed physi- ^ the reflex the nerves; noral habits )n of reflex n approach- human life, is it depen- gh it is de- !Ssion. The instrument. relations to nditions po- , from those up to those Thought is is elaborated and, appar- issues. Our il basts. This cises, for all >t is, they all al action is Habit. 6l invariably accompanied by physical change. Our feelings also have their accompaniment of nerve-impressions. Many who read Dr. Hol- land's " Bitter- Sweet," when it appeared thirty odd years ago, were shocked because he made one of his characters moralize over a barrel of corned beef to the effect that the beef might, " Nerve the toiler at his task, A soul at prayer." But, aside from the question of good taste and poetical fitness, we can have no quarrel with the author. Food makes tissue and nerve-force, and the use and expenditure of these are as certainly involved in worship as they are in work. You cannot do, or say, or think, or feel anything without leaving a definite mark oa the nervous organism which more or less affects all succeeding action or speech or thought or feeling. Habits may be called the grooves that are worn into the nerves by re- peated actions. Memory, while it is a true psychical exercise, has its physical side; re- membering is re-reading impressions which past actions of the mind have left on the sen- sitive brain. Although this is not an exhaustive account of memory, it is probably a true account as far as it goes. A thoughtful investigation of this subject, 63 The Aim of Life. " Habit," must show us the folly and even sin of neglecting or despising the body. Through the susceptibilities of the body we are contin- ually forming those habits, cutting deep those channels which control and guide the larger part of our conduct, and so go far toward deter- mining our future. Surely it was a prophetic insight into our complex nature that led an old writer to exclaim : " I am fearfully and won- derfully made ! " There is immense practical significance in this fact of the physica^l basis of habit. Clear your minds of the notion that any act of your lives is unimportant. Single acts are the begin- nings of habits ; every repetition of an act tends to make it habitual, and the forming habit is the registry of emotions and thoughts and deeds in the very substance of your physical organism. You are unconsciously writing a history in your nerves, and this history you can- not wipe out at will, as you may wipe out a scrawl on a blackboard ; it endures and it re- produces itself. The thoughts of your mind, the purposes and impulses of your heart, your passions, your affections, your aspirations, and your beliefs stamp themselves indelibly on your nervous system; they cut channels of habit; they re-act upon your soul continually for good d even sin Through \re contin- decp those the larger ward detcr- i prophetic led an old ' and won- lificance in ibit. Clear act of your 5 the begin- in act tends ng habit is tughts and ur physical writing a ry you can- ivipe out a s and it re- your mind, heart, your rations, and bly on your s of habit; Uy for good //aM. 63 or ill; they shape your characters; and your character is what you are, what you will be always. You cannot avoid forming habits. The ten- dency to form them is part of your original endowment; it is given to you only to deter- mine whether your habits shall be evil or good, baleful or beneficent. Have a care, then, over what you do, and what you think and feel. Safety tid happiness aliVa are found only in practisiii^ those actions and indulging those tastes v/hich are pure and right. AU wrong- doing, whether it be outward or inward, is self- wounding. Any act once perform* ' is repeated with lessened difficulty. A i . i who makes a shoe finds it easier t'- m-'ke a second a study on the piano, thorc.glii / mastered, givc.i the player increased facility in mastering another. Rase and skill in any sort of performance attest, ' v veloped habit; a lesson learned makes all succeeding lessons easier. The same is true of moral actions; '^very sin prepares the way for another sin. The first conscious lie may be painful to him who utters it, but the second is less painful, and the third still less, until in a little time lying becomes habitual and involun- tary. A generous deed promotes a sMCcession 1 *! • 64 The Aim of Life. of generous deeds. Our highest activities illus- trate this law of facility attained by repetition. Even faith is subject to the habit-forming ten- dency of our nature; a real exercise of trust in God makes it less difficult to trust again and again. Prayer may become habitual, not in form merely but in spirit, so that at last one shall pray as naturally and instinctively as he breathes. Virtue sedulously practised in spite of temptation by-and-by becomes involuntary, almost automatic. Here is a man who is accom- plished in righteousness. Why is it ? Because he has practised righteousness until the habit of doing righteously is fixed. Another man is confirmed in vice; his evil accomplishment is the evidence of vicious deeds repeated until the repetition has become instinctive, and he is vicious from habit. Here is a broad and significant fact of human life ; the philosophy of it we may not be able fully to formulate or grasp, but the fact is plain. Our first business in life is to adjust ourselves to indisputable facts. If you desire to be virtuous you must begin the practice of virtue at once, even though inclination and temptation combine to make it difficult and even painful. Begin and persist, and by-and-by the practice will be easy and delightful. If you wish to be a Chris- 'ities illus- repetition. fining ten- se of trust again and al, not in It last one vely as he id in spite ivoluntary, ) is accom- ' Because he habit of er man is [ishment is id until the and he is t of human lOt be able ict is plain, lurselves to be virtuous ue at once, )n combine ful. Begin tice will be be a Chris- //adif. 65 tian, — that is, not a mere " professor," but one who lives according to the mind of Christ, — you must take the first step voluntarily and resolutely ; God has made it possible for you to acquire a trustful, loving, and holy habit. Remember that if you are not forming habits in one direction, you are forming them in another; all your activities are making chan- liels in which your energy flows toward good or evil. As Dryden wrote : — " III haUts gather by unseen degrees. As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas ;" and as Augustine declared, " Habit, if not resisted, soon becomes necessity." 2. Our inherent tendetuy to form habits is a peril or a safeguard, according as our choices are wrong or right. On the one hand we are in peril, through the formation of evil habits, of becoming hopelessly fixed in evil character. What is a hardened conscience but the con- firmed habit of resisting wholesome, moral influences? Depravity is not an inheritance, but a character formed by the persistent habit of disobeying God; it approaches complete- ness when wickedness becomes easy. Sir George Staunton told a friend that he had visited a man in India who had committed a S p *-itete#<4»iAv«i, ^^^ -i 66 * The Aim of Life. murder. This man — in order not only to save his life, but what was of much greater consequence to him, his caste — had sub- mitted to the penalty imposed, which was, that he should sleep for seven years on a bedstead without any mattress, the whole surface of which was studded with points of iron resem- bling nails, but not so sharp as to penetrate his flesh. Sir George saw him in the fifth year of his probation, and his skin was then like the hide of a rhinoceros. By that time he could sleep comfortably on his "bed of thorns; " and he remarked that at the expiration of the seven years he should probably continue from choice the system which he had adopted from neces- sity. What a vivid parable of a sinful life this incident presents ! Sin. at first a bed of thorns, after a time becomes comfortable through the deadening of moral sensibility; to this con- dition Saint Paul refers, when he speaks of those who, "being past feeling, gave them, selves up ... to work all uncleanness with greediness. " It is perilous to tamper with sin, however strong we may be. " Sins are at first like cobwebs, but at last like cables." On every side one may see examples of bondage to evil habit. Here is a man who once had gener- ous impulses, but now he is bound fast in the only to h greater bad sub- was, that bedstead urface of >n resem- etrate his th year of 1 like the he could rns ; " and the seven om choice om neces- il life this of thorns, trough the this con- speaks of ave tbeni' mess with r with sin, are at first >les." On bondage to had gener- fast in the ffaM. 67 chains of covetous habit. Here is another who indulged in lustful thoughts and desires until the habit of licentiousness took full possession of him ; and now he is a moral leper. Here is another who, once honest, is now habitually dishonest. No one of these intended to be what he has become; but each began to do evil, perhaps thoughtlessly, and at last evil has passed into habit, and habit has crystal- lized into character. But habit is also a safeguard of virtue. " That monster. Custom, who all sense doth ea^ Of habits devil, is angel yet in this, That to the use of actions fair and good, He likewise gives a frock or livery That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night, And that shall lend a kind of easiness To the next abstinence, the next more easy; For use almost can change the stamp of Nature, ' And either shame the Devil or throw him out With wondrous potency." ' John Foster has said that "in the great majority of things habit is a greater plague than ever afflicted Egypt; in religious charac- ter it is eminently a felicity. The devout man exults to feel that in aid of the simple force of the divine principle within him there has grown by time an accustomed power which has almost taken the place of his will, and PLf •'■fri^i'^^-^i'--\if:'^i:i.- 68 The Aim of Life. holds a firm though quiet domination through the general action of his mind. He feels this confirmed habit as the grasp of the hand of God, which will never let him go." It is impossible to over-estimate the value of good habits. We see readily the force of an evil habit; perhaps we need not look beyond our own experience for examples. Many a Chris- tian man finds his present life a continuous fight against habits which he formed before he became a Christian. Sometimes we feel as if a demon had got intrenched in our very flesh, and holding such vantage ground, plagues us with terrible power. He who is involved in such a struggle comes into a new and most vivid understanding of Saint Paul's cry: " Wretched man that I am ! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death ? " The physical basis of habit often retards the outward pro- cess of sanctification so much that a man's life is but a poor index of his real spiritual attain- ments. It suggests also a new aspect of death as the minister of God's grace to some of His beleaguered children. Take heart, O strug- gling soul; the fight is long and hard; but by- and-by kind death will give the full liberty from the flesh which you so earnestly desire I Sin holds its seat in the nerves long after its ina s wig * through :els this iiand of • It is of good an evil ond our 1 Chris- itinuous efore he eel as if iry flesh, igues us olved in nd most I's cry: ,1 deliver physical rard pro- lan's life il attain- of death le of His strug- ; but by- 1 liberty ly desire! ; after its Habit, 69 power over the spirit is broken; surely when the compassionate grave receives the perverted nerves, the tormented spirit will find peace. But while we are familiar with the truth that there is tremendous power in evil habits, we do not so readily nor so clearly perceive that there is equal power in good habits. The rea- son is, perhaps, that we are slower to form good habits, unless we are exceptionally placed in the midst of good influences, because the formation of good habits involves self- estraint and discipline, while the formation of evil habits does not. Still this great conservative tendency of our nature — the tendency to form habits — can be fully utilized in the interests of a holy life. Good habits can be formed, and when they are formed they have all the inher- ent and characteristic strength of habits; they are the bulwarks of religious faith and the impregnable citadels of virtue. From one point of view the most eminent virtues are only perfected habits. Many a man owes his suc- cess in business to the early formation of habits of diligence and economy and persever- ance. I remember a boy who formed the habit at his father's wood-pile of never giving up a tough knot until he had sent his axe through the very heart of it; and many a time, I am R 70 The Aim of Life. sure, that boy has found help in life's hardest struggles from the discipline got on that wood- pile, and the habit there formed of accomplish- ing what he attempted. The patient effort to overcome difficulties begets the habit of overcoming difficulties, until finally difficulties cease to be formidable. Education, rightly conceived, is the habit of sound thinking secured through repeated, systematic exercise of the rational faculties. Not only the mind but the brain itself is involved in the process of education to such a degree that its confor- mation, and to some extent its very structure, are changed. "The great thing in all educa- tion," says Professor James, "is to make our nervous system our ally instead of our enemy. It is to fund and capitalize our acquisitions, and live at ease upon the interest of the fund. For this we must make automatic and habitual as early as possible, as many useful actions as we can, and guard against the growing into ways that are likely to be disadvantageous to us, as we would guard against the plague." Education - is thus mainly the forming of good mental habits. Rectitude is only the confirmed habit of doing what is right. The simple, common graces of politeness and amiability, which some people exhibit so constantly and win- hardest ,t wood- mplish- t effort labit of acuities rightly hinking exercise le mind process confor- ructure, 1 educa- lake our • enemy, isitions, he fund, habitual )ns as we i^ays that IS, as we ducation [ mental ed habit common r, which ind win- Habit. 71 ningly, often are not the result of a constitu- tional advantage over others, but of polite and amiable habits patiently formed. Cheerfulness is a habit that may be cultivated to such a degree as to render gloominess and moroseness impossible. The habit of seeing the good there is in every day's experience has contrib- med largely to the success of many a man in business or in a profession. David Hume declared that the habit of seeing the bright side of things was worth more than a thousand pounds a year. Men and women sometimes complain, of having "the blues;" they are victims of a doleful habit which they need not have acquired, and for which they are clearly responsible. Benevolence, too, is a habit; no man gives largely and beautifully till he has learned to give, — that is, till he has formed the habit of giving. Prayer also may become a habit; not as a form merely, though in the matter of form habit is a help, but as a genuine spiritual exercise, — a movement of the soul toward God in worship and communion. Thus there is in our tendency to form habits, and our ability to form habits, a powerful con- servative force for good. The perfect righteous- ness of saints in heaven is, from one point of view, but the finished habit of living rightly, !,"', u 72 The Aim of Life. — of " doing justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God." 3. Finally, consider the importance of forming right habits in youth. Then the nature is plastic and easily pressed into any mould; then the nervous system as well as the mind is most sus- ceptible to impressions, and impressions are most enduring. The course of most lives is determined before the first twenty or twenty-five years have passed, because during those years the habits which mould character are formed. •' Live as long as you may," said Southey, " the first twenty years are the longest half of your life," Smiles tells us that when the worn-out slanderer and voluptuary. Dr. Walcott, lay on his death-bed, one of his friends asked 'if he could do anything to gratify him. " Yes," said the dying man, eagerly, "give me back my youth." It was a vain request; there is no renewal of the ingenuousness and plasticity of youth. Opportunities once lost, are lost for- ever. Evil habits that have become wholly pos- sessed of a man are relentless tyrants, — rather, they are fetters which youth forges and which old age has no power to break. Disregard of this truth has brought remediless disaster and unappeasable sorrow to many a soul. Augustine in his " Confessions " bears impressive testimony "■''■^''*'*-^ "r'J i BJPPi i*"*'""'" walking forming \ plastic len the ost sus- ons are lives is snty-five te years formed. :y, " the of your vorn-out , lay on id "if he es," said ack my -e is no iticity of lost for- oUy pos- - rather, d which egard of ster and ugustine sstimony Habit. 73 to the force of evil habit; he says: "My will the enemy held, and thence had made a chain for me, and bound me. For of a froward will was a lust made ; and a lust served became cus- tom ; and custom not resisted became necessity. By which links, as it were, joined together, a hard bondage held me inthralled." There are few men who do not live to regret habits formed in their youth. If only the young would be wise enough to heed the examples and warnings of the old! Professor James, in his work on psychology, has written so intelligently and sagaciously that I cannot forbear quoting somewhat at length. He says: — " The physiological study of mental conditions is thus the most powerful ally of hortatory ethics. The hell to be endured hereafter, of which theology tells, is no worse than the hell we make for ourselves in this world by habitually fashioning our characters in the wrong way. Could the young but realize how soon they will become mere walking bundles of habits, they would give more heed to their conduct while in the plastic state. We are spinning our own fates, good or evil, and never to be undone. Every smallest stroke of virtue or of vice leaves its never so little scar. The drunken Rip Van Winkle, in Jefferson's play, excuses himself for every fresh dereliction by saying, ' I won't count this time I ' Well, he may not count it, and a kind Heaven may 74 The Aim of Life. not count it ; but it is being counted none the less. Down among his nerve-cells and fibres the molecules are counting it, registering and storing it up to be used against him when the next temptation comes. Noth- ing we ever do is, in strict scientific literalness, wiped o\xX." — Fsyehol. Vol. I. p. i ay- Have you thought how significant is the fact that most active, fruitful Christians became such when they were young ; and that the men and women of sterling character whom you know received their life's bent in early years; that the patient and the pure and the generous — those whom all admire and love — are but re- vealing the force and result of early formed habits ? A young tree can be bent to any shape with ease, but a tree that has weathered the storms of fifty years cannot be changed. How few persons are radically changed in mature life. Habit is fixed; the character is set; the life-current has worn deep channels that hold it as the rocky walls of its caflon hold the ancient river. Young men and women, take this truth home to your hearts: you are responsible to God and to humanity for your habits, for upon these depends your usefulness or harmfulness in the world. I do not mean merely those external habits which are mainly physical in their man- • I iiiBiiWiiiiiiiiiiiiiiam uiiiiiiiii ^^mn-i le the less. ; molecules to be used les. Noth- aess, wiped is the fact :ame such ; men and you know :ars; that enerous — ire but re- ly formed any shape thered the red. How in mature is set; the that hold I hold the ruth home le to God upon these less in the se external their man- //adil 75 ifestation as well as their basis, but those in- ward habits which determine the quality of your moral life and influence, — your habits of feel- ing and thinking and willing, of speaking and doing. God has given you the precious, peril- ous power of shaping your future by giving you the power of choice and of ruling your own growth. The alternative is before every one: on this hand, good, on that, evil ; and God has said : " Choose ye which ye will." But He has not left you alone in the choice; the energy of His love, the instruction of His word written in the Bible, in history, in Nature, and in your own constitution, and the quickening force of His spirit, all combine to help you in your choice and execution of the good. What shall be the issue if you choose the evil? You can not urge habit as an excuse for sin, for you make habit and must account for that. You cannot drift into righteousness. Habits must be formed consciously and with vigilant pur- pose ; you must create righteous habit by reso- lutely willing to do righteously. Sin may be forgiven, but forgiveness does not unbind the fetters of habit. The love and power of God will enable you to resist and overcome evil habits already formed ; but the soul that would enter into life must strive. i 76 The Aim of Life. Gird yourselves, then, for the great achieve- ment of a righteous life, and open your heart to the spiritual forces that will vitalize and ener- gize your whole being for the glorious and successful struggle. "Thronging through the cloud-rift, who»e are they, tha facci Faint revealed yet sure divined, the famous ones of old ? • What • — they smile — • our names, our deeds so soon erase* Time upon his tablet where Life's glory lies enrolled ? " ' Was it for mere fool's-play, make-believe, and mumming. So we battled It like men, not boyllke sulked or whined ? Each of us heard cUng God's "Gomel" and each waa coming : Soldiers all, to forward-face, not sneaks to lag behind ! " ' How of the field's fortune ? That concerned our Leader I Led, we struck our stroke, nor cared for doings left and right : Each as on his sole head, failcr or succeeder, Lay the blame, or lit the praise : no care for cowards : fight t' "Then the cloud-rift broadens, spanning earth that 's under, Wide our world displays Its worth, man's strife and strife's success ; All the good and beauty, wonder crowning wonder, Till my heart and soul applaud perfection, nothing less." *#*" it achjcve- ir heart to and ener- >rious and ey, this facet anes of old ? ■o toon ersMHi enrolled ? I mumming, I or whined t ind each WM ig behind I our Leader I >r doings left for cowards: :hat's under, t'g strife and mder, lothing less." WS^ COMPANIONSHIP. Hr that walketh with wise men shall be Yilae. — Prcverii oj Solomon. Keep good company, and you shall be of the number.-" Georok Herbert. No man In effect doth accompany with others, l,ut he learn- eth, ere he is aware, some gesture, voice, or fashion. — Lord Bacon. I set it down as a maxim, that it is good for a man to live where he can meet his betters, intellectual and moral.— Thackeray. It is better and safer to ride alone than to have a thiefs company; and such is a wicked man, who will rob thee of precious time, if he do thee no more mischief. — Spencrr. It is certain that either wise bearing, or ignorant carriage, is caught as men take diseases, one of another; therefore, let men take heed of their company. — Shakes?ears. Be not deceived ; evil companionships corrupt good morals. — Saint Paul. TN the beginning of his famous essay on " Friendship," Lord Bacon quotes some one as saying that, " whosoever is delighted in soli- tude, is either a wild beast or a god." The quotation was probably a condensed reproduc- tion from memory of Aristotle's saying in the ■m 78 T/te Aim of Life. " Politica," that " He who is unable to mingle in society, or who requires nothing, by reason of sufficing for himself, is no part of the state, so that either he is a wild beast or a divinity." It is true that man is naturally and universally a social being. He cannot easily live alone; at least, no one in mental and moral health is willingly solitary. We are all drawn to our kind by deep and almost ineradicable instinct; there is something confessedly abnormal and even monstrous in the confirmed recluse. But obligation as well as inclination binds us to our fellow-men. Society is the sphere of our moral duties ; and it is also the necessary condition of the development and fulfilment of our individual life. Each man completes himself in other men. The command, " Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself," expresses no arbitrary requi. *ment, but a duty to self as well as to the neighbor ; it is in some sense a formula of rational and moral development. I need to love my neighbor quite as much as my neighbor needs me to love him. But it is also true that at times we seek and need solitude because of certain inward experi- ences that absorb our energies and make companionship temporarily painful, or even impossible. A great sorrow or a great tempta- tion, or even a great joy, may drive the soul into. ^m^\ ningle in reason of state, so nity." It versally a alone; at health is n to our : instinct; >rmal and use. But us to our our moral ndition of individual ather men. r neighbor :jui. "ment, ighbor; it and moral ;hbor quite love him. ! seek and rd expcri- ind make , or even at tempta- e soul into. Companionship. 79 loneliness; this loneliness, however, must be transient, and the normal condition of our lives Vi that of conscious relatedness and companion- ship. The Christ descended alike from the mount of temptation and the mount of trans- figuration to mingle his life afresh with the life of humanity. The Christian doctrine of the Trinity formulates the instinctive repugnance of the human mind to the idea of absolute, divine solitariness, as if the very manifoldness of the divine nature were necessary to the perfect divine felicity. Jesus himself finds the type of human unity in the unity of the Father and the Son. Our life, at least, is 'neither complete nor healthful save as it is blended with the common life of our fellow-beings. -We instinctively seek friendships, and the reliefs and helps which friendships bring to us, in all our ordinary experiences of joy and grief. Lord Bacon, with his wonted wisdom, said, " The communi- cating of a man's self to his friend works two contrary effects, for it redoubleth joys and cut- teth griefs in halves ; for there is no man that imparteth his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more ; and no man that imparteth his griefs to his friend, but he grieveth the less." There is an exquisite German proverb, — J>MiiiOTillWMI" 1^ 8o The Aim of Life. " Geteilte Freude, doppelte Freude ; Geteilter Schmerz, halber Schmerz." Which may be rendered, Divided joys are doubled joys, Divided sorrow b sorrow halved. With rare exceptions both joy and sorrow waken the impulse to communicate to others what we feel. Our susceptibility to society appears vividly in the great and indefinable influence of a multi- tude upon our moods and our nature. We are drawn to a multitude as by gravitation, and under its influence for the moment almost lose our individuality in the common impulse by which it is swayed. How often men speak and act in a crowd as they would not, as they could not, if they were alone. A considerable part of the conduct of most men is the result not of individual conviction and purpose, but of pop- ular temper and tendency. The individual is raised above himself, or sunk below himself, by the temporary judgment or passion of the crowd. This is true also in the narrower sphere of one's immediate companionships. Rarely does a man act with entire independence; the influence of those about him affects him unconsciously and more or less qualifies all the expression of his life. H I^PPW^^T" Hi 1 sorrow to others rs vividly if a multi- We are tion, and most lose ipulse by peak and :hey cou/d le part of lit not of t of pop- ividual is imself, by he crowd, •e of one's oes a man fluence of ously and ion of his Companionship. 8i But my purpose now is to consider not the general subject of man's relation to society, but the more specific subject of companionship. A companion, according to the root-idea of the word, is one with whom we eat bread, — from con, with, or together, and pants, bread. One's companions are those with whom he associates ; a certain degree of intimacy is implied. A distinction is sometimes drawn between com- panions and friends: one's friends being those with whom, in frank confidence, he shares his inner life ; while his companions include, besides friends, those with whom he lives on a more or less familiar but not Intimate footing. The dis- tinction is a true one ; for while companions may be many, friends are few. However, for my present purpose, I may disregard this distinc- tion, and I ask you to think about the influence and the obligations of companionship. What I have to say falls easily under these two heads : — 1. The Influence of Companions ; 2. The Choice of Companions. I. At the outset let us understand clearly that each of us is sure to be influenced by those who are about him, with whom he talks and works and lives. Some are influenced less than others by their associates, for some natures have 6 timnmm 82 The Aim of Life. little impressibility. These may be neither the nobler nor the .stronger natures, for a high degree of susceptibility to human influence is quite compatible with a robust and self-respect- ing individuality. But most of us are suscep- tible to a far greater degree than we are aware. The tides of life that pour upon us continually leave their impress for good or ill in our thoughts, our habits, and our characters. The majority of men belong to their own generation, in the sense that they are generically like their contemporaries. Here and there arises a stal- wart individual who lives in advance of his time, and even presents a type of a generation to come. These are prophetic men, — great thinkers like Roger Bacon and Giordano Bruno and Ephraem Gotthold L>.ssing, and great reformers like Wicklif and Huss and Savonarola. But most men are children of their own time, the assimilating force of society being greater than the differencing force of individuality. In the narrow circle of each one s acquaintance the influence of companionship on character is most clearly seen. There is an old English proverb: "Tell me with whom thou goest, and I '11 tell thee what thou doest." Our conduct is constantly and . owerfully affected by those with whom we continually her the a high lence is respect- suscep- aware. itinually in our . The leration, ke their s a stal- of his neration — great jiordano ing, and uss and Idren of f society force of tch one s nionship ere is an h whom I doest." )werfully ntinually Companionship. 83 associate. We cannot evade this influence. We may determine whether our associates shall be good or bad, and thus whether the influence upon us shall be helpful or harmful, but we cannot escape the dynamic environment. " Be not deceived," said Saint Paul, " evil compan- ionships corrupt good morals." We almost inevitably take the moral tone of our chosen surroundings. This is one side of the truth, but there is another; if evil associates corrupt us, good associates purify and elevate us. But the truth that I would press upon your minds until you cannot forget it is this: Whatever your companionships may be, they must and will exert a profound influence on your characters. Ignorance of this truth, or disregard of it, is sure to result in serious damage. Do not think that you can company with coarse fellows and not grow coarse yourself. Do not think that you can associate habitually with the impure and at the same time preserve your own purity. Lavater said : "He who comes from the kitchen smells of its smoke ; he who adheres to a sect has something of its cant; the college air pur- sues the student, and dry inhumanity him who herds with literary pedants," There is a Latin proverb: "If you always live with those who are lame, you will yourself learn to limp." I ^^SSBRSfiSSS^ WA saae 84 The Aim of Life. The most serious mistakes of ingenuous youth are made in the choice of companions. Susceptibility to the charms of cleverness and good fellowship, enthusiasm and ignorance of the world, combine to make them easy victims of the designing, or to blind them to the real char- acter of those whom circumstance makes their companions. No generous young man coldly chooses to do evil, or knowingly accepts the bad as his associates. There are many who would shrink with horror from becoming vulgar and profane and licentious, who would passionately recoil from the thought of committing a deed of dishonesty or shame, who yet thoughtlessly allow themselves to enter into fellowship with those whose influence is evil ; and in a little time imper* ceptibly their fine sense of honor is blunted, their purity is tainted, their good impulses are weak- ened and overborne, and in a few years they become capable of unanticipated grossness or even crime. There are many young men in this city to-night who not long ago came here com- paratively pure, with instincts, if not principles, of truthfulness and uprightness ; but already they have passed through a sinister transforma- tion. They have become knowing with a ques- tionable knowledge. Their speech is marked by smartness and ready innuendo that easily Companionship. 85 opens into actual obscenity. They have learned to swear and swagger. They frequent the saloons, are familiar with the back entrances to the theatres, and know the way to places where shame holds perpetual carnival. Some of them have acquired the art of cheating washerwomen and boarding-house keepers, and of clandes- tinely borrowing money from their employer's till. They are fast young men, — fast indeed ! — journeying fast down the road to physical and intellectual and moral ruin. Have I not sketched truly, if in outline, the biography of many a young man in every great city of our land? Again and again, with little variations of detail, does the Christian minister hear from the trembling lips of broken-hearted fathers the story of sons who have gone down into an earthly perdition, and the explanation of it all in the significant words : " They began running with bad company." So too there ere young women in this city to-night whose permaturely faded cheeks bear the brand of vice and shame, whose " feet go down to death," whose " steps take hold on hell." Not very long ago some of these were innocent and full of good impulses; they meant no evil, but, careless and wayward, they joined hands unwittingly wiih those whose touch was pollution, and ■MjPt;aij^,nfl"i ! "' '^wini. %» . m^^ f 86 The Aim of Life. under the influence of such associates they have gone down a steep road to ruin, while desolated homes and broken hearts witness to the far-reaching malign influence of evil com- panionship. Few who are now sunk in wretch- edness and social ruin would have gone to ruin alone ; but the strong attraction of companions whose unscrupulousness was disguised under the form of friendship has drawn the simple out of the path of purity, and given that impetus toward vice which pushes the fallen rapidly down to death. You to whom I speak may be, or may think yourselves to be, safe, but remember, however firm your resolution to be honest and pure, if you associate habitually with those who are bad, you subject yourselves to a dangerous test. By your choice the bad are in the majority, and they will at last make you like themselves. But if evil companionship is powerful for evil, good companionship is equally powerful for good. Many a boy unhappily born amid vicious surroundings has been redeemed from vice by being placed among the pure. Under the constant influence of gentleness and purity and integrity his character gradually has ac- quired these qualities, and his life has developed into an ornament and a blessing to society. A Companionship. 87 Even men of confirmed evil habits have been powerfully affected, and sometimes saved, by the example and influence of the good. It is said that when Lord Peterborough lodged for a time with the holy Finelon, he was so af- fected by F^nelon's piety and virtue that he exclaimed at parting: "If I stay here any longer I shall become a Christian m spite of myself." The history of domestic life, were it fully written, would show many an instance of a coarse-grained and immoral husband gradu- ally softened and refined by the companionship of a pure and high-minded wife until he became an honest, kindly gentleman. It is true Ten- nyson makes the disappointed and angry lover exclaim, as he half-vengefuUy forecasts the fate of his lost mistress :— ■• A8 the husband is, the wife is : thou art mated with a down. And the pos8ne«i of his nature wiU have weight to drag thee down ; " but the reverse is quite as oflen true, — the fine- ness of the wife's nature having the force to sub- due and chasten the grossness of the husband s nature. Saadi, the great Persian poet, thus beautifully represents the influence of goodness. " One day," he says, " as I was in the bath, a friend put into my hand a piece of scented clay. 88 The Aim of Life, I took it, and said to it, ' Art thou musk or avnbergris, for I am charmed with thy perfume?' It answered, ' I was a despicable piece of clay ; but I was some time in the company of the rose, and the quality of my sweet companion was communicated to me ; otherwise I should only be a bit of clay as I appear to be.' " He who chooses his companions among the good and the true will at last become like them, for every noble impulse and aspiration will be wakened in his heart, and he will discover for himself at last the same hidden sources of moral strength as those from which they draw the beautifying virtue of their lives. It is this very power of good companionship which makes he Church, when it is really alive with the spirit of Christ, so safe and so whole- some for the young. It furnishes not only stimulating examples of fidelity to truth and righteousness, but also a purer and more loving fellowship than is found in any other society on earth. The Church which seeks to approxi- mate its great ideal develops a force promotive of the best culture of heart as well as of mind. It strives after, and measurably secures, a large and generous manhood and womanhood. Many a man owes far more to the Church than he has ever appreciated. Had he been alone in the PpEeBtlBBaBB .■jjia^^H^ni "^-m-i'iM'^^'-*^:!!^-^:'}; ■ lusk or rfume?' )f clay; :he rose, ion was lid only rie who >od and ►r every yrakened nself at strength lutifying lionship lly alive whole- 3t only jth and ; loving ciety on ipproxi- omotive if mind, a large . Many I he has in the Companionship. 89 world, wanting the quickening and supporting influence of the Church's kindly and pure fellow- ship, his moral purpose would have been over- borne by the forces of evil about him, and temptation would have swept him into ruinous sin. But, surrounded as he has been by those who, like him, are striving to live according to the mind of Christ, he has found his 'ittle strength reinforced again and again, his failing purpose revived, and his whole moral being hly invigorated by the common ende,ivor .liter the higher life. The united forces of the sympathizing many have fortified his weak faith, and he has stood fast until virtue has become the habit of his fife. The firmest ground of security in an upright life is continual, con- scious dependence on God ; but the main channel through which divine grace comes to us is the vital sympathy and loving fellowship of good men and women who are bound to us in the ties of a common faith. The Church is not an institution so much as it is a fellowship of those who love God and their brethren. Many are the testimonies that have come to me from men who are living bravely and hopefully that they are able so to live because, in their struggle with sin and sorrow, they find continual encouragement to strive against temptation and 90 The Aim of Lift, endure adversity, and continual incentives to at- tempt the good, in the tonic atmosphere of the Christian Church. 2. If, then, the influence of habitual com- panions is so powerful for go'd or ill, it is vastly important that we choose tli -' whid »re good, — that we choose the best, fiicve i!> a law of affinity among men. " Like will to like ; each creature loves hit kind," gang the poet Herrick. Tn the old Jewish book, " Ecclesiasticus," I find thuse proverbs : " All flesh consorteth accordin[; to kind, and a man will cleave to his like ; " "The birds will resort unto their like ; " " Cicada is dear tc cicada, and ant to ant, and hawks to hawks, ' ifave we not in the last two the original of the old English proverb : " Birds of a feather flock together " ? At any rate the proverb is true. The bad in heart prefer to be with the bad, and the frivo- lous with the frivolous, and the pure with the pure. You do not find the upright man will- ingly in the company of the debauchee and the gambler, except for the purpose of discharging some imperative duty; nor do you find the vicious man voluntarily seeking the companion- ship of the virtuous and the devout, save as he may have in view some personal gain. The res to ai- re of the lal corn- ill, it is vhici are x\'C is a d," ish book, s: "Ail id a man rill resort cada, and ^e we not i English )gether"? le bad in the frivo- with the man will- e and the ischarging I find the >mpanion- ave as he ain. The r ^va^mmsssmmm/mimi^mmaitt^ , ^, IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 ■ 45 ■JO ~^^ MMH I.I 12.8 ■50 ^^^ HHBH m u 1.8 L25 114 iM 6" Sciences Corporation 23 WiST MAIN STRiET WiBSTIR.N.Y. 14580 (716) •72-4503 ,-.,..*;, «' CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. m- CIHIVI/ICMH Collection de microfiches. \ it- Canadian Institute for Historical IVIicroreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques Companionship. 91 moment the vicious man sincerely seeks com- panionship with the good, that moment he has ceased to be wholly vicious. But there are many who are not yet bad, whose impulses are on the whole good, and whose desire is to be honest and virtuous. They are lacking, however, in well-tempered judgment and solid strength of character. The chief peril of these is that of forming evil companionships. They do not naturally seek the bad; nor do they promptly and resolutely attach themselves to the good. Inexperienced and thoughtless, they yield readily to the first impulse ; pleasure is attractive, and they are easily beguiled by those who make vice plausible. There is a singular fascination in freedom from moral restraint. They are mastered by the influence of their environment, and quickly decline from comparative innocence to habitual and ever- deepening immorality. Scarcely any other choice in early life is so important as the choice of companions; upon that choice often turns the whole question of success or failure in life. Consider, then, this important truth, that you have it in your power unselfishly to draw to yourself the best service of your fellow- creatures. No matter what your circumstances are, you can win and keep the company of 92 The Aim of Life. those who are intelligent and virtuous as well as agreeable. You can have such companion- ship as shall help you to be true and clean and worthy men and women. I know how great obstacles poverty raises, or seems to raise, in the way of many who would seek elevating companionship ; but I am not sure that wealth often does not raise still greater obstacles. I am not sure but that the poor young man or woman has less to contend with in this respect than the rich. Those who are born and nur- tured in wealth are more subject to the conven- tional exactions of society, which often make the free choice of companions difficult. But many of the obstacles to a choice of the best compan- ionship are imaginary, and none of them are insurmountable. Some of your associates in study or work may be coarse or profane or dissipated ; but there is no law, social or moral, that compels you to choose your friends and companions from among them. The good always welcome those who seek to attain good- ness. No associations which you do not desire can be forced on you; and none which you unselfishly seek will be denied you. As it is your duty to be master of your circumstances, so it is your duty to determine your companion- ships. This 'often requires courage, sometimes I Companionship. 93 iious as well companion- id clean and iv how great to raise, in ek elevating I that wealth }bstacles. I oung man or , this respect orn and nur- > the conven- rten make the But many best compan- of them are associates in r profane or cial or moral, r friends and The good attain good- do not desire e which you ou. As it is ircumstances, ir companion- ge, sometimes a very fine-tempered courage. You must dare sometimes to be singular; you must not fear to give oflfence, if offence is taken at your exer- cise of the personal right of selecting your habitual associates. You must be brave enough to stand against a majority, if need be, and " to refuse to follow the multittide to do evil." Especially is courage needed if once you have been led astray, and still bear the scars, if not the unhealed wounds, of your fall. A man who had renounced the use of intoxicants, after hav- ing used them to excess, was asked by some of his old comrades to drink with them; but he refused. They urged him ; but he was firm, say- ing, " I am a brand plucked from the burning." They asked what he meant, at the same time saying that one drink would do him no harm ; the man replied: "Look here! you know there is a difference between a brand and a green stick. If a spark fall on a brand that has been partly burned, it will soon catch fire again ; not so with a green stick. I tell you I am that brand plucked out of the fire ; and I dare not venture into the way of temptation for fear of being set on fire again." In relation to this or that indulgence already you may be a brand. Take care that through your very friendships the spark may not fall on you which will re- 94 The Aim of Life, kindle the baleful fire. If you are still so young, or have been so shielded by the influ- ences of a pure home, that you are the " green stick," remember that it does not take long to become a brand. " Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life." The accident of a day may begin a friendship that will last for years. Associates are easily found if one is indifferent to their character; others will seek you, if you do not seek them. You will not lack friends, such as they are, if you are accessible to those who would gain some- thing from you ; but you must be positive, choos- ing for yourself fit companions with whom you may form a compact of mutual helpfulness and pleasure. Choose your associates primarily for their intrinsic moral qualities. Many people run after the rich ; others cultivate the clever man because he is clever. There are others who find the chief attraction in mere physical strength ; every pugilist has his coterie of admirers. Some people seem to measure the worth of a man solely by his physical qualities. Spence, in his " Anecdotes," relates that Pope the poet was with Sir Godfrey Kneller the artist, one day, when the latter's nephew, a Guinea slave-trader, came into the room. " Nephew," said Sir God- frey, " you have the honor of seeing the two re still so the influ- he " green ce long to irt with all es of life." I friendship are easily character ; seek them. T are, if you gain some- itive, choos- 1 whom you fulness and rimarily for ' people run clever man ;rs who find il strength; r admirers. worth of a Spence, In ie poet was ;, one day, lave- trader, id Sir God- ig the two Companionship, 95 greatest men in the world." " I don't know how great men you may be," said the Guinea man ; " but I don't like your looks. I have often bought a man much better than both of you, all muscles and bones, (or ten guineas." Bestial men select their companions tor their bestial qualities. If you choose companions that are bestial they will soon put the mark of the beast on you. If you have some sentimental notion that you will do them good by remaining on terms of intimacy with them, put the fond dream out of your head ; you will far more likely do them good by abandoning them. They will have, for once at least, the suggestive example of a man who has moral convictions and the manliness to act in accordance with them. If you have companions that can speak lightly of woman, or sneer at a mother's counsel, or scoflf at religion, leave them. Whatever qualities they may possess which excite your admira- tion, — wit, accomplishments, prodigality mis- called generosity, — they certainly will do you only harm. There are intellectual as well as moral advan- tages in having the best associates. If you habitually talk with a man of cultivated tastes and speech, you will insensibly take on his quality. To knovi some men and women inti- WMii l l i lllBlU Bg The Aim of Life. mately is equivalent to a liberal education. Choose associates that will elevate you. It is a capital rule for a young man to follow, to cultivate the acquaintance of some men and women who are distinctly his superiors in intelli- gence and refinement If you are sincere and modest, no good man whose influence you desire to receive will repel you. If you would get knowledge, talk much with those who know more than you do; if you would improve your taste, seek intercourse with those whose taste is refined by the best culture. If you would be established in virtue, associate habit- ually with the virtuous; if you would be a Christian, keep the company of some Christian who, like F^nelon, wins all by the pure charm of his genuine piety. This is almost always in your power ; and if it were not, you would better have no companions than those whose influence lowers the tone of your moral life. If you are so exceptionally placed that you can find no good people to hold fellowship with, then in the name of God stand alone with Him; but no sincere soul is long left com- panionless in this world. As Confucius said: " Virtue is not left to stand alone. He who practises it will have neighbors." We need occasionally to remind ourselves ducation. . It is follour, to men and in intelli- ncere and you desire would get vho know improve }se whose If you iate habit- [>uld be a Christian ure charm Dst always you would ose whose moral life. that you fellowship alone with left com- icius said: He who ourselves Companionship. 97 that we are responsible for our companionships. As we have power and opportunity to choose the good, so we are to blame if we choose and keep the bad. There are many who, if they are unsuccessful, find fault with circumstances ; if they are overcome by temptation, they blame their evil associates. But no man can clear himself of guilt by shirking his personal re- sponsibility for what he does and what he is. The streak of cowardice in Adam which made him say : " The woman whom Thou gavest me tempted me," has come down to many of his descendants. But this plea, if given as a suffi- cient excuse for sin, is a pitiful evasion of the truth. Tempter or • temptress will be unerr- ingly judged, but meanwhile the tempted has his account to give. There is an old legend that a fool and a wise man were journeying to- gether. They came to a point where two ways opened before them, — one broad and beautiful, the other narrow and rough. The fool desired to take the pleasant way; the wise man knew that the hard way was the shortest and safest, and so declared. But at last the urgency of the fool prevailed; they took the more in- viting path, and ere long were met by robbers who seized their goods and made them captives. Soon after both they and their captors were 7 isassssa "•si^^sSitoaBa .,,i.. ' , j Wl '! 98 The Aim of Life. arrested by officers of the law and taken before the judge. Then the wise man pleaded that the fool was to blame because he desired to take the wrong way. The fool pleaded that he was only a fool and no sensible man should have heeded his counsel. The judge decided that both were wrong and punished them equally. The moral of the legend is clear : " If sinners entice thee, consent thou not." Be sure that if you consent to the enticement of sinners the Supreme Judge will not hold you guiltless. Your responsibility is as broad as your whole voluntary life. It covers not only acts but also motives; not only your individual course but also the nature and results of your chosen re- lationships. With this the practical judgment of men agrees. Society will hold you responsi- ble for the company that you keep, and those who would employ you will be profoundly in- fluenced in the choice or refusal of your services by the character of your associates ; when Hal becomes King Henry, he must cut Falstaff and his regiment of swashbucklers. It is said that Pythagoras, the ancient Greek philosopher, before he admitted any one into his school, inquired who were his intimates, naturally con- cluding that they who could choose immoral companions would not be much profited by his mmm Companionship. 99 n before that the to take t he was uld have ded that equally, [f sinners iure that f sinners guiltless, lur whole t but also 3urse but hosen re- judgment responsi- and those >undly in- ir services when Hal ilstaff and said that tilosopher, tis school, irally con- ; immoral ted by his Instructions. Men are not less wise now; if you keep the company of the dissipated or the corrupt, do not be surprised if those who want capable and honest assistants pass you by. The common-sense of the world appreciates the worth of integrity, and quickly presumes the lack of integrity in those who have intimacies with the unworthy. We have no right to be exclusive in the sense that we should repel any human being who seeks aid of us or to whom we can do good ; but we have the right to keep our intimacies only for those whom we can trust and whose influence upon us will be pure and conservative of honor. We have the right, nay, we are under most solemn obligation, to preserve inviolate the in- most sanctuary of the heart and mind by admit- ting therein no profane and polluting fellowship. This does not abridge in the least a true love of all our fellow-men. God loves all. " He maketh His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust;" but also, " The secret of the Lord is with them that fear Him, and He will show them His covenant." Our habitual companionships will be deter- mined by our dominant aim in life and by the really master-affection of our hearts. That strange conception of Stevenson's, " Mr. Hyde ICX) Thi Aim of Life. with the • presence antiseptic ; impossible thy of the imate com- to give, as 5t thing on oily benef- TEMPERANCE. A WISE man U itrong; yea, a man of knowledge increaaeth ■trength. — Provtrbs of Solomon, Whatever day Makes man a slave, take* half his worth away. The Odyssiy, He that would govern others, first should be The master of himself. Massinger. Every man that striveth for the mastery Is tumperate In all things.— Saint Paul. In the supremacy of self.-control consists one of the perfec- tions of the Ideal man. — Herbert Spencer. Chain up the unruly legion of thy breast. Lead thine own captivity captive, and be Cxsar within thyself. — SIR Thomas Browne. Es ist gewlss, eln ungemilssigt Leben, Wle es uns schwere, wllde Traume glebt, Macht uns luletit am hellen Tage traumen. GOETHB. THE Study of words is both interesting and profitable; for words are more than symbols of thoughts, they are thoughts em- bodied, and the history of words is the history of the intellectual and moral life of man. The word " temperance " is so comirjonly mis- understood and misapplied that a brief study of ■-— »«(ipgi>s«jf.*d«iK*» -" ■mSH)KSB& jJMIilJ^HWWilWMiB 102 The Aim of Life. it, if it doefr not materially add to our knowledge, will at least correct our apprehension and per- haps also our use of the word. It is from the \ja!Cm tempero, which means, (i) "to divide or proportion duly," and " to mix in due propor- tion." This sense appears in the phrase : " He is a well-tempered man." Had Shakespeare written in Latin instead of English, he would have used tempero in that noble passage which he puts in the mouth of Mark Antony concerning Brutus : — " His life was gentle, and the elements So mix'ti in him that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, ' This was a man I ' " 7m/«'^ means, (2)" to rule, regulate, govern; " (3) " to moderate or restrain one's self; " and, (4) in the participle, to be " moderate, sober, calm, steady." The New Testament is so largely the recognized authority in practical ethics that we shall do well to look at its use of the word. "Temperance " is the common trans- lation of the Greek iyKpdreia, a compound of ^iz — that is, "in"— and xparo^, which means power. Applied to a man. iyxpaTeia expresses the idea of strength or power in him ; it expresses thus the idea of moral strength, — that is, self- mastery or self-control. knowledge, n and per- is from the 3 divide or ue propor- irase: "He Jhakespeare \, he would ssage which concerning s stand up a man I "• e, govern ; self; " and, :rate, sober, tnent is so in practical at its use of mmon trans- ompound of vhich means la expresses it expresses that is, self- Temperance. In the minds of most people this word is associated almost exclusively with the idea of abstinence from the use of intoxicating liquors. A temperate man is usually understood to be one who never tastes intoxicants as a bever- age, no matter what excesses he may practise in other respects. "Temperance," popularly, is the equivalent of total abstinence from alco- hoi, and "intemperance" is the equivalent of any degree of alcoholic indulgence. Thus the truth that all excess is intemperance is blurred and even lost sight of altogether. The mon- strous evils resulting from alcoholic intemper- ance aflford both the reason and an excuse for this perversion of the word ; but we shall lose nothing and shall gain much by restoring to the word its true meaning. Any man who makes excessive use of intoxicants is intemperate, whether the quantity he uses be small or great. Excess is determined not by quantity alone, but by the degree of the user's sensitiveness to stim- ulants. The responsible relations in which he stands both to God and to human society de- mand the continuous preservation of his moral and physical self-possession, and any use of intox- icants which prevents that is excessive. On the other hand temperance is not to be identified with moderate use,— that is, a man is not bound ■'JlA'Vi . -■.-:I.,U^: '■ ■..■l.,.W.A < 18l I04 ^^ ^^*'* °f ^^f^' to use alcohol moderately in order to be temper- ate. Temperance is self-control, and he who abstains wholly from intoxicating drinks is, in this particular matter, a temperate man ; while he who takes only an occasional glass may be, so far, an intemperate man. Any indulgence is in- temperance in the case of some men ; it is intem- perance in the case of any man who thereby pre- judices his physical or moral health, or menaces the well-being of his neighbor. Certainly the man who by the excessive use of alcohol has laid the foundation of a morbid appetite, or has inher- ited a morbid susceptibility to stimulants, is intemperate if he makes any use as a beverage of that which will revive his appetite. Entire abstinence is the only safe, and therefore the only right, course for some men, and the only surety of self-control. It must not be forgotten that the evil nature of an act lies not only in the motive of the doer, but also in the consequences of the act. This fundamental ethical principle is often ignored in discussions of the temperance ques- tion. Experience shows that, quicker than almost any other physical agent, alcohol breaks down a man's power of self-control. The phys- ical evils of intemperance, great as they are, are slight compared with the moral evils. It is not e temper- he who (iks is, in an ; while lay be, so ence is in- t is intem- greby pre- r menaces y the man IS laid the las inher- lulants, is beverage e. Entire refore the i the only ;vil nature ye of the >f the act. is often mce ques- cker than hoi breaks The phys- ley are, are It is not Temperance. »05 simply that vices and crimes almost inevitably follow on the loss of rational self-direction, which is the invariable accompaniment of intoxication ; manhood is lowered and finally lost by the sensual tyranny of appetite. The drunken man has given up the reins of his nature to a fool or a fiend, and he is driven fast to base or unutter- terably foolish ends. The temperate man keeps the reins in his own hands, and resists the first encroachment on his rational and moral liberty. He will not become a traitor to the high sover- eignty of his own divinely given self-hood. But the idea of temperance covers a wide field; it stands in direct relation to many forms of self-indulgence besides that of in- dulgence in stimulants. In fact temperance relates not primarily to the thing which a man does, but to the man ; it is opposed to excess of every sort, — to excess in eating and drink- ing, in working and playing, in speaking and thinking. Temperance is sometimes con- founded with moderation; but moderation is rather the result of temperance, — that is, of self-control. As belonging primarily to the man rather than to the thing which a man does, temperance is a quality of character. In its highest form it belongs only to the good man; no one can be temperate in sinning. >;i^i*Bfe«i«ttri«i«i«is«^^ io6 The Aim of Life. One may sin less than another, but all sin is excess; he who sins exceeds the limits of right conduct. Temperance is not perfect until it is so complete that it prevents all wrong action or impulse. Temperance, then, is self-control. It is physical and mental and moral self-possession and self-direction; it is that quality, that power, in a man by which he successfully resists the mastering of himself by any thing or any influence which is of less worth than himself, —an intelligent, moral personality, at once the subject and the child of God. It is immediately related to all the virtues. Bishop Hall, using the word " moderation" in the sense of self-control, said : " Moderation is the silken string running through the pearl chain of all virtues." It makes character symmetrical, and conduct consistent with right principle; it is the unifying force, the internal ruler, that regulates the activities of imagination and affection and will. It is intimately related with knowledge. Socrates said : "There is no difference between knowledge and temperance [e7«/i)aT«ta], for he who knows what is good and embraces it, who knows what is bad and avoids it, is learned and temperate. But they who know very well what ought to be done, and yet t all sin is lits of right :ct until it rong action rol. It is f-possession uality, that successfully ly any thing worth than rsonality, at God. It is les. Bishop in the sense is the silken chain of all metrical, and nciple; it is ruler, that ination and itely related There is no temperance t is good and id and avoids iut they who lone, and yet Temperance. 107 do otherwise, are ignorant and stupid." The brilliant but sadly inconsistent Stoic philoso- pher, Seneca, inculcated, if he did not always practise, a true temperance. He declared : " I will have a care of being a slave to myself, for it is a perpetual, a shameful, and the heaviest of all servitudes." Saint Paul, contemporary with Seneca, inculcated and practised a tem- perance grounded in the absolute subjection of self to God and to the spiritual aims of life. In his letter to the Corinthians, he reminded them that those who contended in the games for a prize were temperate. The illustration was homely, but striking and suggestive; the wrestler or runner, in preparing for the contest, must bring himself wholly into subjection to the laws of physical health and development. He must rigorously control all his habits of living, — of eating and drinking and sleeping, of resting and exercising. He must control also his passions and his moods; for he must have not only physical soundness and strength, but also presence of mind, alertness, courage, and perseverance. All of these qualities are needed in the arena; he who is deficient m any of them risks failure and defeat. Human life is a contest, a race, an agony \&riiovU\ as the Greeks called it, and it demands a moral disci- \ I io8 The Aim of Life. SYl pline and self-mastery like that of the athlete. We are in the world to develop character; and we are surrounded by hostile influences which we must overcome in order to become true men and women. We have weaknesses within which must be supplanted by disci- plined strength. We have physical appe- tites which, properly ruled, are sources of pleasure, and ministrant to our well-being, but which, if allowed to rule us, will involve us in a bondage that is both degrading and destructive. We have faculties of mind and heart which, regulated and trained in accord- ance with moral law, are elements of both power and greatness, but ungoverned are sources and instruments of mischief to our- selves and others. God evidently means that we shall "live in the spirit," — that is, with our spiritual faculties regnant, and our spiritual interests uppermost. It is His will that we should be served by the flesh, and not be its servants ; that every faculty and passion of our natures shall be under the control of a right will, and so ministrant to our best life. In its highest sense temperance is a holy self-govern- ment of our entire nature — of body, mind, and spirit — in accordance with the will of God. A true self-control involves, then: (i) ■fA the athlete. character; influences to become weaknesses ;d by disci- yrsical appe- ' sources of well-being, will involve :grading and of mind and id in accord- ents of both joverned are chief to our- ly means that • that is, with i our spiritual will that we nd not be its lassion of our rol of a right ;t life. In its !y self -govern - dy, mind, and rill of God. s, then: (i) Temperance. 109 Control of the physical appetites. Such con- trol is absolutely necessary to right living. I do not counsel asceticism; Christianity does not prescribe asceticism, — on the contrary, asceticism is opposed to that full, rounded, vigorous life of which Christianity gives us the ideal. But in every man who would live as he ought to live, there must be something of the force and fibre which enter into the charac- ter of the ascetic. " All things are lawful for me," said Saint Paul; "but I will not be mastered by any. " There is the truly temper- ate man, in whom, by long discipline, self-con- trol has become easy and inevitable. On every side the thoughtful observer of life discovers examples of the ruin that is wrought by lust, — that is, by appetite which has become exces- sive. Not only are natural appetites given rein until they have grown monstrous and despotic, but artificial appetites are created which, like a ghastly Frankenstein, develop a kind of independent life and force, and then turn on their creator to torment him without pity. The appetite for intoxicants, if not wholly artificial in some cases, is yet so perverted and exaggerated that it has all the char- acter of an unnatural and external 'despot WIUMi lB H IW U P w "^Wlfe,,, no The Aim of Life, The thoroughly subjugated victim of strong drink is almost the most pitiable creature on earth; he becomes half beast or half demon. In the place of sweet, human reasonableness comes a maudlin idiocy or a maudlin fury. What a mute confession of unspeakable degra- dation there is in the very appearance of a confirmed sot! Behold a man no longer in possession of himself 1 The flesh is master; the spiritual nature is choked in the mire of sensuality; and the mental faculties are a mere mob of enfeebled powers under bondage to a bestial or mad tyrant. Young men, let drink alone; not because it is a sin to take a glass of wine, but because it is a sin and a shame for you to abdicate your manhood under the influence of a morbid appe- tite which you must either create by immoral excess, or which, having been created by pre- natal influences, you must waken and nurse by indulgence before it has the fatal power to bind you hand and foot. But there are other appetites which are just as imperious and, perhaps, quite as harmful as the appetite for , intoxicants. The latter seems specially evil because of the rapidity and com- pleteness with which it breaks down self-con- trol and debauches the moral nature.. But all I of strong creature on ialf demon, sonableness ludlin fury, table degra- arance of a ) longer in 1 is master; the mire of s are a mere ondage to a >t because it it because it bdicate your norbid appe- by immoral ated by pre- md nurse by :al power to hich are just IS harmful as ; latter seems ity and com- )wn self -con - ure. . But all Temperance. appetites, the natural as well as the artificial, which exist in most cases only by our fault, should be subject to reason and conscience and will. They have no right to mastery. Settle early the question which is to be your master, your body or you. It is no such easy question to settle as you may suppose; for the very strength of your nature, on the passional side, enhances the difficulty. The question is never effectually and finally settled until you are willingly ruled by a high, moral purpose; and until it is settled you have no self-control which will insure any real and permanent suc- cess in life. Hate not the body; prize it rather, and nourish and develop it, but keep it under. Like fire, it is a good servant, but a ruinous master. (2) Self-control involves also command of one's faculties and dispositions. Skill in any work is the result of a full self-possession; it is such grasp and command of one's powers as enables him to direct them efficiently to a desired end. It is his physical self-control that enables the skilful mechanic to make his hands and his tools do exactly what he plans. The same tools in the hands of one lacking such self-control are almost useless and sometimes even dangerous. It is physical self-control 112 The Aim of Lif^: that enables the accomplished musician to execute with precision and power the melody which is in his soul. Technical skill of every sort is the result and expression of control over one's own physical capabilities. Self-control is, therefore, necessary to eflfec- tiveness; it is the generalship which turns a mob of raw recruits into a disciplined army. Many a man is blundering and ineffective in all his endeavors because he has never come into command of himself: his powers are un- trained; he can do nothing well; he has no method; he does not possess himself. The dis- cipline which is the main end in education is simply self-control acquired over ones mental faculties; without this discipline no man is a strong and accurate thinker. But dispositions as weir as faculties must be subdued to order. A prime quality of good character is the power to control ones moods, -his feelings and temper. Many persons are intemperate in their feelings; they are emo- tionally prodigal. Passionateness is intemper- ance; so also is caprice, and subjection to evil or unwholesome moods. There is an mtejnper- ance in melancholy and in mirth. "The laugh- ter of fools is like the crackling of thorns under a pot " But the mirthful fool is not worse than Temperance. "3 nusician to the melody ill of every of control ties. ary to effec- iiich turns a •lined army, neflfective in never come iwers are un- ; he has no elf. Thedis- education is one's mental no man is a ilties' must be ality of good one's moods, y persons are hey are emo- i is intemper- jection to evil 5 an intemper- "The laugh- >f thorns under not worse than the melancholy fool. It is true that our moods are much dflfected by our circumstances; that is inevitable. But the temperate man is not mastered by his moods ; he will not be driven or enticed into excess; his steadfast will con- quers despondency, and is not unbalanced by transient exhilarations. Temper is subjected to reason and conscience. How many people excuse themselves for doing wrong or fool- ish acts by the plea that they have a quick temper? But he who is king of himself rules his temper, turning its very heat and passion into energy that works good instead of evil. Stephen Girard, when he heard of a clerk who had a strong temper, would readily take him into his employ. Girard believed that such per- sons, properly controlled, — that is, taught self- control, — were the best workers. Temper is an element of strength ; wisely regulated it spends itself as energy in work, just as heat in an engine is transmuted into the force that drives the wheels of industry and commerce. Crom- well, William the Silent, Washington, and Wel- lington were men of prodigious temper; but they were also men whose self-control was nearly perfect. The favorite emblem, Mr. Mot- ley tells us, by which the friends of William the Silent expressed their sense of his firmness was, 8 liilii>liiTi.IliriT7'1 ^rJJ'itiyiy^- p S pTIi^ ' '^ sspwm^s 114 TAi Aim of Life. " The rock in the ocean, tranquil amid raging billows." How adequate is the old familiar proverb: " He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city." There is another sort of intemperance to which the young are prone to become addicted: it is intemperance in the exercise of the fancy or the imagination. Imagination is a marvel- lous and most precious endowment of the human mind ; but it is susceptible of extra- ordinary and exceedingly harmful abuses. It glorifies life if it is pure and noble, and chas- tened by a strong sense of truth and righteous- ness ; if it is impure, and unruled by conscience, it envelopes the soul in a splendid but fatal corruption. Uncontrolled by reason and the moral sense, it ^aps the best energies of the mind by leaving them inactive; it perverts judgment by tb^se representations of life; it debauches the heart by the creation of unclean pictures in which vice is garnished with a pow- erful and baleful beauty; it becomes, m the service of lust, — " Procuress to the lords of hell." Many a ruined life is but the manifest result of a moral deterioration which began in an "MMEiri" Temperance. "5 (lid raging d familiar r is better 1 his spirit ;)erance to : addicted : the fancy a marvel- •nt of the • of extra- abuses. It , and chas- l righteous- conscience, d but fatal >n and the •gies of the it perverts of life; it 1 of unclean with a pow- mes, in the inifest result jegan in an 1 intemperate imagination, leeds were done in fancy from which as facts the soul would have shrunk in horror, uii ' at last, by an inevi- table process, fancy has become fact What orgies of illicit pleasure are carried on in many a heart! I tell you, young men, there are few perils to youth greater than those which arise from an unchastened and ungoverned imagina- tion. A true self-control lays a powerful con- straining hand on that fertile and dangerous faculty, and subjects it as rigorously as it does conduct to the law of conscience. " Keep the imagination sane," said Hawthorne, " that is one of the truest conditions of communion with Heaven." When G6ethe wrote: " Es ist nichts furchterlicher als Einbildungskraft ohne Geschmack," — there is nothing more fearful than imagination without taste, — he surely was thinking of " that good taste which is the con- science of the mind, and that conscience which is the good taste of the soul." (3) Self-control involves also command of one's practical activities. Scarcely less impor- tant than temperance in the indulgence of our appetites and passions, is temperance in speech and in work. These two, speech and work, are our prevailing forms of expression ; we impress ourselves on the world about us by what we i ■ I mss a ^'-^'ii !J-" Ii6 The Aim of Life. say and what we do. Intemperance in speech is a common vice, and it is one prolific of grave evils. Words are forces in human society. An apostle said : " Be swift to hear ; slow to speak ; slow to wrath." Hasty, ill-considered speech is one of the most fruitful sources of suffering; gossip and slander are more powerful for mis- chief than robbery and arson. The intemperate tongue Saint James describes as " an unruly evil, full of deadly poison." Families, churches, and communities have been rent in pieces by the ungoverned tongue; friends have been parted or turned into foes by evil-speaking. The wise control of the tongue has a powerful influence on the whole life. Saint James says : "In many things we all offend. If any one offends not in word, this is a perfect man, able to bridle also the whole body." It is as if he had said that he who has learned how to be temperate in speech has mastered the secret of temperance in all things. The man who is intemperate in drink often harms himself more than he does any one else ; but the man who is intemperate in speech harms first and most his fellow-man. Intemperance in work is also a common vice, especially in our time and country. Though not as despicable and mischievous a vice as the former, it is nevertheless a vice, and it works ,ce in speech jlific of grave society. An low to speak ; dered speech , of suffering; erful for mis- le intemperate an unruly evil, churches, and pieces by the : been parted ng. The wise erful influence ys : " In many offends not in to bridle also had said that temperate in of temperance intemperate in than he does is intemperate is fellow-man. a common vice, jntry. Though us a vice as the 2, and it works Temperance. 117 great harm. Many men do not control their work ; they are controlled by it. Such men do not live; they drudge in a wearing bondage. Work, work, work, is the sum-total of their lives. They rob their families of that generous, affec- tional intercourse which is worth more than any amount of wealth. Their day has no breadth of horizon, and is void of beauty and song. They do much, but what they do is despoiled of more than half its value by their failure to be- come the cultivated, ample personalties that they might become. Society suffers, the Church suffers, and the nation suffers by the sacrifice of capacious and m?iny-sided manhood which intemperance in work demands. Work is not an end, but a means to an end. It is a wretched subversion of true human interests to turn life into a mere grind of unillumined toil. Wealth, as accumulated money is miscalled, is not worth its cost when it costs life. I know that the preacher on this theme speaks to many deaf ears. The gold-god casts a powerful spell over his devotees, and I fear that the day is still d;.'- tant when men will work that they may live, instead of living that they may work. But the truth has a more powerful advocate than the preacher's voice ; the wrecking of many a life before its prime, in premature break-down, ner- ■,^--'i'x'.-'Krt~~-^ ii8 The Aim of Life. r vous prostration, heart-failure, and suicide speaks with a force greater than that of any sermon. Let me now summarize this counsel of wis- dom as to the practical conduct of life. Be tem- perate in your pleasures ; make them recreative incidents in the serious business of living. Rule appetite with a strong hand, and persistently keep the body in its true place. Be temperate in your feeling ; do not be stoics ; strong feel- ing is an important element in a noble charac- ter; but rule feeling by reason and conscience. Do not suppress passion and imagination, but let them loose on noble ends. Be temperate in judgment and speech. Put a bridle on the tongue, and keep the reins in a firm and watchful grasp. Be temperate in work. Let the thing you do be done with all your might; pour out your enthusiasm and energy in unstinted streams, but always under such control that your work will not harness and drive you as a mere slave. In one word, be men, self-controlled and patient and strong, — always stronger than your passions, always better than your speech, always superior to your task. In Sir Thomas Browne's fine phrase : " Be Caesar within thyself." Remember that all conduct begins within. " Out of the heart are the issues of life." Out ;ide speaks sermon, sel of wis- ;. Be tem- recreative ing. Rule persistently ; temperate strong feel- ble charac- conscience. [nation, but jeech. Put le reins in a ate in work, th all your and energy under such tiarness and le word, be id strong, — ons, always superior to fine phrase : 'gins within, f life." Out Temperance. 119 of the heart proceed the thoughts and motives which are the mainspring of all deeds. If the inner kingdom of a man's heart is rightly gov- erned, all his conduct will be right and good. A true self-control in relation»to things evil enforces abstinence; in relation to things law- ful it enforces moderation. Such a self-control produces and evinces a harmonious and bal- anced character; it insures true enjoyment of pleasure, efficiency in work, patience and re- sourcefulness under adversity, and chastened gladness in success. Such is the temperance inculcated by Jesus Christ. If you have attained this temperance you will never be the slave of appetite ; you will be free from the loathsome bonds of lust; you will command with ease the various faculties of your minds. Your heart will escape the oppres- sion of sombre moods, and the dissipation of foolish and unwholesome fancies, and you will experience the calnu and sweet satisfaction ol conscious integrity before God and men. You will feel within you, as Shakespeare puts it: "A peace above all earthly dignitiea. A still and quiet conscience." For truly, as Milton said : — fmm.%im0^- rvtSifSJUS'teWS*-^"'' I20 The Aim of Life. JiHe that has light within his own clear breast, May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day ; But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts, Benighted walks under the mid-day sun, Himself is his own dungeon." f How shall you attain such self-control as I have described? The answer now must be brief, and, fortunately, it need not be long. The secret of true self-control is in a right education of the mind, ip discipline of the will, and in development of the spiritual nature. Accept intelligently, and never reject without well-meditated and well-grounded reasons the restraints which are thrown about you by home and society. Many a young man is impatient to be his own master; the authority of parent or guardian becomes irksome, and he longs for the hour when he can take the reins of his life wholly into his own hands. " But too often," as Hare has said, " he who is impatient to become his own master, when the outward checks are removed, only becomes his own slave, — the slave of a master in the insolent flush of youth, ha§ty, headstrong, wayward, and tyrannical. Had he really become his own master, the first act of his dominion over himself would have been to put himself under the dominion of a higher Master and a wiser." It is only he who has ast, 9 oughts, ntrol as I must be be long, n a right f the will, al nature. :t without ;asons the I by home impatient r of parent : longs for of his life 3 often," as to become checks are — the slave )uth, ha§ty, 1. Had he first act of ,ve been to f a higher le who has Temperance. 121 learned to obey who is fitted and able to command. Discipline your wills by choosing to do the difficult, right deed with promptness and un- flinching courage ; form the habit of mastering yourselves in the daily experiences of the home and the school. Life is a moral gymnasium with all the appliances for training the moral forces in you to strength and efficiency ; spring to the magnificent task of making yourselves upright, pure, and generous men. You prize manliness ; you believe in virtue ; you desire to give a good account of yourselves in the arena and conflict of life, — put yourselves voluntarily under subjection to the one supreme Master of the art of right living ; be obedient, chivalrous followers and imitators of Jesus Christ. For not good resolutions alone, not mere hard will- work alone, will certainly bring you into a clear mastery of yourselves ; you need the inspiration of a personal faith, a personal love, and a per- sonal enthusiasm. You need, too, the help that comes through the appeal of God to your spiritual nature; that appeal is made in the matchless character of Jesus Christ. Subjection to him is entrance into freedom and power. The poet Tennyson exclaimed in passionate faith: — SI 122 The Aim af Life. r- - Strong Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove ; I f'^l Our wills are ours, we know not how, Our wills are ours to makt tkttn thin*" The divine control of us through faith and love makes possible a true self-control ; in the deepest sense the moral man must be the relig- ious man. Our virtues that stand the stress and storm of the world are rooted in our souls' deep sense of God. Temperance is not a mere utili- tarian virtue; it is a power and perfection of character the sources of which are the same as the sources of that faith which lifts man trium- phant at last over all ills in life and in death. N r face* lOW, te." [h faith and »trol; in the be the relig- he stress and r souls' deep a mere utili- perfection of the same as i man trium- in death. DEBT. THOSE have short Lent who owe money to be paid at Easter. — Franklin. Debt is like any other trap, easy enough to get into, but hard enough to get out. — H. W. Shaw. The man who never has money enough to pay his debU has too much of something else. — J. L. Basfo»D. His brow is wet with honest sweat. He earns whate'er he can. And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. Longfellow. Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it ia in the power of thine hand to do it. - Prw become a reater depth )ur language lea. Inglo-Saxon, to possess." we now use peare : — s, to possess •w that which \ to another, sonal posses- is owed to in trust, for e paid, gnate words; Debt. 185 for duty means that which is due, — that is, it is a debt. I have gone somewhat into detail in this study of words in order that you may see clearly how much the word " debt " involves. It is a weighty word, expressing moral obligation and revealing moral law. But for conscience there would be no such word as debt ; but for moral law there would be no conscience; but for God there would be no moral law. Many of our com- monest words, like this word " debt," strike their roots down into the very foundations of moral life, and bear testimony to man's primal rela- tion, as a moral being, to God. Few people think that every time tliey use the word *' debt " they are unconsciously witnessing to the power of conscience, the authority of moral law, and the being and sovereignty of God. On the other hand, many of our words are involuntary witnesses to human passion and sel- fishness, to human ignorance and guile, and to the perversion of human life and character by vice and sin. Men shrink sometimes from the seeming exag- geration and injustice of Jesus's saying : " By thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned ; " but this saying expresses the profoundest insight, and is sup- \-^ 126 The Aim of Lift. ported by the soHdest reasoning. As individual men express their characters in their habitual speech, so a people writes its moral history in its language. A word is but a vibration of the air, a pulse of sound, or a figure stamped on paper, yet it can wound like a knife or heal like balsam ; it may shine with the light of truth and love, or glow with the lurid fire of passion and hate ; it may be a revelation of virtue and faith, or it may disclose wickedness that has become unconscious habit. «• Words are mighty, words are living t Serpents with their venomous stings. Or bright angels, crowding round us, ^ With heaven's light upon their wings j Every word has its own spirit, True or false, that never dies ; Every word man's lips have uttered Echoes in God's skies." I. The word " debt " has a well-known specific meaning. As commonly used, it refers to money or goods or service which one person, on account of an equivalent already received, is under obligation to render to another. This we may call its commercial sense. The considera- tion of debt falls within the domain of practical ethics, because debt is essentially moral. It could not exist if men were not moral beings ; it Dtbt 137 s individual sir habitual il history in ation of the stamped on life or heal ight of truth c of passion f virtue and ss that has ng: igs, us, ingst ed town specific it refers to one person, yr received, is cf. This we lie considera- I of practical >r moral. It ■al beings ; it cannot be conceived of as existing among beaste. Properly a debt is a moral obligation ; but in the relations which men sustain to each other as members of a common political society and under the authority of civil laws, sometimes debt exists formally where it does not actually. Through injustice or dishonesty, through the abuse of power or the exercise of cunning, men often take advantage of each other, and make demands for that which is not morally due; and these demands they are able legally to enforce. Thus there are, we may say, three kinds of specific debt : — (i) That which one is legally but not morally bound to pay; (2) That which one is morally but not legally bound to pay ; and (3) That which one is both legally and morally bound to pay. With reference to the first kind of debts which one is- legally but not morally bound to pay, it may be remarked that they are not true debts; they do not immediately signify duties. They are misfortunes, the results perhaps of carelessness, or even of selfishness. No obli- gation to pay such debts inheres in the debts themselves; but there may be obligation to pay liiem arising from the duty of maintaining the iiiiisBiMisiniMHtai^^^^ 138 Tht Aim of Lift. x\ laws, even though, through imperfection, the laws sometimes work injustice to the individual, or from the duty of yielding a right before the higher right of preserving peace and morally benefiting another. Such debts as are legal but not strictly moral must be dealt with according to the merits and circumstances of the particular case. As far as possible avoid such debts by a cai'eful circum- spection in your dealings with men. There is a kind of debt of which I am loath to speak, but which the ethical teacher is com* pelled to notice. I refer to obligations assumed while one is in a mentally and morally irres- ponsible condition, — as, for example, when he is drunk, — and obligations that are assumed in betting.and other forms of gambling. The laws and ttu: courts recognize that the chief elements in an obligatory contract are wanting in both of these cases ; and to a large extent they protect men from the consequences of their own folly or vice. But the moral obliga- tion of the debtor cannot always be determined by a legal process. Two or three things are pretty clear: it is immoral to get drunk, and it is immoral to gamble; and certainly the creditor who has made himself formally such by taking advantage of another man's weakness erfcction, the :he individual, ht before the and morally strictly moral he merits and se. As far as li-eful circum- en. :h I am loath acher is com* tions assumed norally irres- iple, when he are assumed nbling. The hat the chief t are wanting large extent [sequences of moral obliga- >e determined ee things are :t drunk, and certainly the formally such an's weakness or ignorance, or by the arbitrament of chance, has no moral right to compel payment. But the debtor who has made himself formally such while int )xicated, or by gaming, must face the question whether the payment of the factitious debt is not a \'<- lalty for his immorality which he would better endure as a wholesome disci- pline; if in this way he can guard himself from a second experience, the lesson will be worth its cost. Certainly no man has a right to put himself in paI irresponsible condition, and no man has a right to incur obligations, or to exact the fulfilment of obligations, that rest on no solid basis of service or value rendered for an equivalent. Ih gambling there is no equivalent rendered for the value received. A fine sense of honor will shrink from the whole wretched business of gaming and betting as unworthy of men. When we are more civilized we shall put betting where we have put duell- ing, and the question of factitious debts will pass out of the discussion of practical ethics. With reference to the second kind of debt, — that which one is morally but not legally bound to pay, — there scarcely can be two opinions where there is sound judgment and quick conscience. Debt is duty, and laws do not make or unmake duty ; they simply define 9 ni i T ii 'fJTT^'^"'^'"""-''^'**'" I30 The Aim of Life. certain duties, and often do that very imper- fectly. What you owe to another, that other has a right to have ; for obligations on one side involve corresponding rights oti the other. It is always the moral rather than the merely legal element which is predominant in a true debt. There are many men who have false ideas of the ethics of debt. A debt that does not bind them by law is considered a doubtful claim. Just as in the minds of some men an oath is more binding than a simple affirmation, and perjury a sin far exceeding in gravity the most outrageous lying, so, in some minds, the gravamen of obligation in a debt lies in the strength of the legal claim. The result is that debts often are evaded through legal defects, or repudiated because there is no power to compel their payment. The dishonesty of this is radical. Through misfortune, which he could neither foresee not avert, a man may be placed in such circumstances that he cannot pay his debts; and in certain cases the law merci- fully and wisely steps in to save him from such utter destitution as would deprive him of power ever to recover his loss. But whether bound by legal requirement or not, the debtor is morally bound; and if he is a very imper- r, that other s on one side he other. It the merely rnt in a true have false jbt that does ;d a doubtful some men an e affirmation, in gravity the some minds, debt lies in The result is hrough legal ■e is no power dishonesty of could neither be placed in inot pay his i law merci- ve him from deprive him } loss. But ;ment or not, id if he is a De6i. 131 true man, the only thing that will prevent him from meeting all his obligations is absolute inability. There are many people who seem to think very lightly of debt ; as though it were a small matter to be under financial obligation. Not a few have no hesitation in incurring debt without the slightest intention of ever troub- ling themselves about paying the debt; yet they would scorn to steal. Meanwhile it would tax a very subtle casuist to draw a valid and clear distinction between many a debtor and a thief. Always a true debt involves moral obliga- tion; and whether there be legal obligation or not is a sm;-ll matter before the bar of conscience. It is a lesson which multitudes need to learn, — that a debt is meant to be paid. Simple as the lesson is, even religion seems insufficient to teach it effectually to som^ men. Whatever human laws may say, God's law says: "Pay what thou owest ! " A debt may be forgiven, and so dissolved ; but it cannot be repudiated without guilt. Moral obligation is the most tenacious and persistent thing in this universe. The debt which you refuse to pay has in it a moral element that will abide when time has 13* The Aim of Life. gone, and the world has passed away; and it will haunt you like a condemning spirit in eternity. Man cannot die out of the sphere of moral obligation. No sophistry can extinguish a duty ; no change in circumstances will soften the stern imperative of moral law. The requirement of civil law, then, does not effect the essential quality of debt, either by its presence or absence. What is right is right ; what is due is due, — whether it be recognized in the statutes of States or not. Having laid a broad and solid ethical founda- tion for our thought on this theme, I wish now to give you some homely, practical suggestions concerning debt in its specific sense of an obligation to render money or goods or marketable service to another. (i) In the first place debt is not of necessity absolutely to be avoided ; sometimes one must incur debt. The relations of men to each other commercially are such that debt in some form is often proper and even unavoidable. Saint Paul wrote to the Roman Christians: "Owe no man anything, but to love one another." These words must not be construed into a command, having force for all time, never to incur financial obligations. They do imply the principle that debts are to be paid; that ay; and it g spirit in e sphere of extinguish will soften n, does not , either by is right is jther it be tes or not. ical f ounda- I wish now suggestions ense of an goods or of necessity :s one must 3 each other 1 some form ible. Saint lans: "Owe le another." rued into a le, never to y do imply : paid; that De6f. 133 men are not to be perpetually owing, but are faithfully to discharge their obligations to each other. But there was also in the apostle's words a meaning which has ceased to be perti- nent. History tells us that when he wrote, the disciples of Christ in Rome were already, or were soon to be, in almost constant peril of death or pillage. Nero was emperor, and the times were uncertain and troublous. The Christian was like a lamb among wolves. The whole world was hostile; its customs and laws, social and civil, were in many respects violently opposed to the Christian scheme of life. It behooved Christians to live as minute-men, unencumbered and ready for any emergency. In harmony with this was the apostle's exhortation to the believers in Corinth: "This I say, brethren, the time is short: it remaineth, that both they that have wives be as though they had none; and they that weep, as though they wept not; and they that rejoice, as though they rejoiced not; and they that buy, as though they possessed not : and they that use this world, as not abusing it : for the fashion of this world passeth away:' Un- doubtedly, too, these and similar counsels were prompted by the belief, which Saint Paul for a time shared with many of his contem- 134 The Aim of Life. m m ■i-^ i poraries, that Christ was to come again during their age and life-time to bring earthly history to a close. The superficial meaning of these words evi- dently is not for times like the present, in which Christian thought increasingly shapes the laws and controls the government of society. Debt is to-day a commercial necessity. A large part of trade is carried on by creating or assuming financial obligations. Great enter- prises, individual and national, are built on credit, — the faith of man in man. Debt is not, therefore, absolutely to be avoided, though it should be incurred only in accordance with fixed moral and economic principles. (2) The assumption of obligations to pay should be accompanied by the manifest ability to pay. It is a requisite of simple honesty that debt should be incurred only when there is a clear certainty that it can be discharged. No man and no government has a right to make debts in excess of substantial assets. Assets may be in the form of actual values or of power to create values. The permanent eco- nomic equation is, credit proportioned to real values. As a rule debt should be avoided by the young; and it should be resolutely ;ain during hly history words evi- aresent, in gly shapes rnment of lessity. A creating or reat enter- e built on . Debt is led, though dance with ons to pay fest ability lie honesty when there discharged, ght to make ts. Assets ilues or of iianent eco- ►ned to real be avoided I resolutely Debt. avoided by all who have not in present posses- sions, or present power, the guaranty that the debt will be paid. Young men are prone to go in debt. Life is so full of promise to them ; the future shines so bright to young eyes; youth is so richly endowed with hope and con- fidence, — that to incur financial obligation does not seem a very serious matter. Consequently many, thinking lightly of debt, have mortgaged their whole future, and subjected themselves to a life-long struggle to meet demands which are nearly or quite beyond their utmost power to fulfil. Discontented with present circuni- stances, impatient of restrictions on their desires, eager for pleasures that are costly, and ambitious to display a style of dress and living that is beyond their present means, they bor- row money on pledges which are easy to make but hard to redeem, and ere long they wake up to the fact that they have spent a fortune before it is earned. Then they begin the wearisome, painful fight to atone for their folly and retrieve their lost liberty, or, disheartened, sink into perpetual discredit among their fel- lows, or, still worse, yield to the temptation to engage in immoral enterprises for gain. It is surprising what ideas of financial pros- perity some men have; they measure their liiiiiiiiiMiiMHItt^Br 136 The Aim of Life. success by their ability to get in debt. A young man who had settled in a western town was visited, after a year or two, by an old friend from the East. When asked how he was getting on he replicu: "Oh, it's a capital place; a first-rate place for a young man! When I came here I wasn't worth a cent, and now I owe a thousand dollars." Those were wise words which Horace Greeley wrote: "Hunger, cold, rags, hard work, con- tempt, suspicion, unjust reproach, are disagree- able; and debt is infinitely worse than them alL And if it had pleased God to spare either or all of my sons to be the support and solace of my declining years, the lesson which I should have earnestly sought to impress upon them is, •Never nm into debt! Avoid pecuniary obli- gation as you would pestilence or famine. If you have but fifty cents, and can get no more for a week, buy a peck of corn, parch it, and live on it, rather than owe any man a dollar.'" Greeley's life was a noble commentary on his words. He fought his way from poverty to competence, and from obscurity to an honorable fame ; and I never heard that he had an unpaid debt. Many a man has condemned himself to perpetual hardship through a fatal facility in "getting trustied;" many another has sunk Debt. 137 debt. A tern town yy an old DW he was a capital ung man! cent, and ce Greeley work, con- ; disagree- 1 them all. : either or 1 solace of h I should in them is, niary obli- :amine. If et no more rch it, and a dollar.'" tary on his poverty to 1 honorable 1 an unpaid himself to facility in ■ has sunk into confirmed vice under the pressure of early and unmanageable debt. So too many a dis- aster in business has come as the direct result of carelessly incurring obligations which could not be met, and of trading on chimerical probabilities. Like Horace Greeley, Thomas Carlyle hated debt so violently that he would not borrow even to relieve real distress, and toiled through years of ill-paid labor to win for himself a competence. The eccentric John Randolph once sprang from his seat in the House of Representatives, and exclaimed in his piercing voice : " Mr. Speaker, I have found it ! " And then, in the stillness which followed this strange outburst, he added: "I have found the Philosopher's Stone; it \spay as you go'" It is a fact that more dishonesty, often involun- tary dishonesty, is caused by recklessness in incurring debt than in almost any other way. Every young man should write it down as a fundamental principle of practical ethics, that simple honesty demands that he shall make no debt which he cannot surely pay. Nothing will compensate for a failure resolutely to observe this principle. No amount of genius atones for dishonesty. It is said that when Sidney Smith once went into a new neighborhood, it was 138 The Aim of Life. given out in the local papers that he was a man of high connections, and he was besought on all sides for his "custom." But he speedily undeceived his new neighbors. "We are not great people at all," he said; "we are only common, honest people, —people that pay our debts." Let it be ever remembered in honor of Sir Walter Scott that he sacrificed his life by his prodigious labors to pay his debts, for a large part of which he was not responsible, and to save Abbotsford, his home, and that the Waverley Novels are a perpetual testimony to his chivalrous regard for the sacredness of financial obligations. I have no power adequately to depict the wretchedness and pain which have been caused by debt heedlessly incurred ; every community affords abundant illustration. You all remem- ber Dickens' character, Mr. Micawber, and what a laughable, pitiable, lovable, and contempti- ble character he is, ever discharging old obliga- tions by making new ones, and fatuously fancy- ing that one note was paid when another, bearing a more recent date, was given in its place. You remember, too, the wise words which Micawber uttered, but the wisdom of which, in his conduct, he scrupulously avoided: "Annual income twenty pounds, annual ex- at he was a ras besought he speedily We are not we are only that pay our -ed in honor ficed his life debts, for a responsible, and that the testimony to acredness of depict the been caused ^ community u all remem- l}er, and what 1 contempti- g old obliga- uously fancy- len another, given in its wise words : wisdom of isly avoided : annual ex- Debt. 139 penditure nineteen nineteen six, result happi- ness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty pounds ought and six, result misery." The misery which Micawber contin- ually experienced is representative of the misery which multitudes endure who indulge in the folly of living beyond their means. And the worst of it all is not the misery, but the actual guilt — the dishonesty before God and men — which invites and receives certain condemnation. The writings of Benjamin Franklin are worthy of a place in every young man's library, if for no other reason, for the sake of the soundness and pointedness of his counsel on the conduct of practical affairs. " Think," he says, — " think what you do when you run in debt ; you give to another power over your liberty. If you cannot pay at the time, you will be ashamed to see your creditor ; you will be in fear when you speak to him; you will make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, and by degrees come to lose your veracity, and sink into base downright lying, — for the second vice is lying, the first is running in debt, as Poor Richard says, and again, to the same purpose. Lying rides on Debt's back." ' 2. I turn now, for a few minutes, J^o the broad meaning of debt as something which is 140 The Aim of Life. due, — that is, as synonomous with duty. Be- cause man is a moral being, having intimate and responsible relations with his fellow-creatures and with God, he is subject to duty. Under a comprehensive and beneficent moral law he is in debt to all men and to God. This debt is perma- nent; it is not extinguished by payment, for it rises freshly into existence with every moment of life. We do not assume this debt, nor can we throw it off. We may refuse to acknowledge it wholly or in part; but its claim is never re- laxed, and, unlike financial debts in some States, it is never outlawed. No man is or ever can be clear of it ; it inheres in the very nature of his moral being and relations. There is no differ- ence, with reference to this fundamental fact of moral life, between the Christian and the heathen, between believer and unbeliever. The one may recognize and acknowledge what he owes to his fellow-men and to God, and the other may not; but the recognition does not make the debt, nor does the lack of recognition unmake it. Every man is bound to live justly and benevolently toward other men, and rever- ently and righteously toward God. The fact that the best men do this imperfectly does not affect the obligation, does not make it less than absolutely imperative and everlasting. Salva- h duty. Bc- l intimate and [low-creatures ity. Under a al law he is in iebt is perma- paymcnt, for every moment debt, nor can ) acknowledge 1 is never re- nsome States, >r ever can be nature of his e is no differ- idamental fact stian and the )eliever. The edge what he God, and the ition does not of recognition d to live justly en, and rever- ed. The fact ectly does not ake it less than asting. Salva- Dedi. 141 tion is the process of coming into that perfec- tion of moral life which this obligation implies as the true ideal and destiny of man. There are many erroneous ideas with respect to the scope of moral obligation. It is said some- times that the Christian ought to be better than the unchristian man, and the preacher better than the pew-holder. Properly qualified this statement is true, but unless thus qualified it is not true, it is even absurdly false. Every one is bound to be the best in character and conduct that is possible for him to be. The confessed follower of Christ ought to exemplify the virtues and graces of his Master; but is it not true that the rejector of Christ should also exefnplify these virtues and graces? Does the Christians recognition of his duty constitute his duty? The truth is simply that the former openly recognizes in some meas- ure what he ought to do and be, while the latter do« s not. There is no escape from obligation by refusing to acknowledge obligation ; other- wise there would be an end of all virtue. God is no respector of persons ; moral law is universal. Duty is as broad as humanity. A chief func- tion of Christianity is to teach and convince men that they all should obey God, that they all should follow the mind of Christ, that they all should turn from sin and live the beautiful life LKiw^'imivimt gP» 143 The Aim of Life. of holiness. God's love regards not a favored few, but the whole human race ; so God's claim rests not on the few, but on all. Obligation is not nullified by denial of it There is no hiding- place for the soul that repudiates the claims of duty ; there is no recess in this universe where the authority of moral law does not penetrate, — it is as pervasive and omnipresent as the atmosphere. Have clearly in mind that there is one debt v/hich rests on you all. It is neither unequal nor transient. It is not a burden, but a blessing ; for it is the necessary condition of happiness and peace. When oughtness is met by willingness heaven is begun. *' Great peace," said the Psalm- ist, grasping this truth, — " great peace have they who love thy law." Often a distinction is made between duty to our fellow-men and duty to God; but there is no real distinction. The New Testament clearly recognizes that all duties are to God, and that pure love and service to humanity are the true worship. But the formal distinction between philan- thropy and religion is convenient for purposes of discussion. (i) We are debtors, then, to our fellow-men. We owe them love and helpfulness in their toils Debl. '43 Dt a favored God's claim )bligation in is no hiding- le claims of iverse where penetrate, — sent as the is one debt her unequal t a blessing ; ippiness and ,r willingness id the Psalm- ce have they reen duty to but there is iment clearly od, and that are the true veen philan- for purposes ■ fellow-men. in their toils and struggles; sympathy in their sorrows, and service in their need. We owe it to them to practise virtue and charity, to aftord them an elevating example, to share with them our bless- ings, and to import to them our joys. The claims of a common humanity arc con«:inuous. The debt is persistent ; it is not discharged by any single act of beneficence, but only by a life of constant generous service. All yreat souls have recognized in some measure the debt. Saint Paul said of himself: " I am debtor both to the Greeks and to the Barbarians ; both to the wise, and to the unwise." The altruism of modern scientific thought is but the tardy rec- ognition of the law of Christ, which is the universal moral law. (2) We are debtors to God. He gives us being and power, and the capacity for blessed- ness. We owe Him reverence and love and obedience; we owe Him the joyful worship of pure hearts. He claims this from us, and emphasizes His claim by the revelation of His nature and will in the person and life of Jesus Christ His claim is uttered in the law given on Sinai; it is sung in the evangel at Bethle- hem ; it is breathed in the dying prayer of the crucified Jesus; it is trumpeted in the Apostolic call to repentance; it is voiced in the psalms 1 144 The Aim of Life. of the redeemed who chant the praises of " the Lamb" in the Apocalypse. Every gift of God to us is a witness and evidence of our debt Every sunrise proclaims it ; every . common blessing, such as life and air and food and power of limb and faculty of mind, attests it; every deliverance from peril or temptation de- clares it Our debt to God finds expression in every holy hymn that makes melody amid the discords and strifes of the world. Every church spire pointing to the skies is a mute wit- ness to it ; every prayer acknowledges it It is the one thing that makes the life of man in- telligible and sacred. Our life does not begin to take on dignity and significance until, in some way, we apprehend and acknowledge our debt to God. Subjection to this debt is not bondage, but liberty. It is to the soul what air is to the lungs, and light to the eye, and red blood to the beating heart But the debt is one ; it is the duty of living in that love of man which is religion, that love of God which is philanthropy. Shun all debts but this. Recognize this anH welcome it as the sign of your divine kinship and destiny, and pour out your life in glad and continuous and ever-increasing payment raises of " the y gift of God of our debt very . common md food and ind, attests it; emptation de- I expression in melody amid vorld. Every is a mute wit- edges it It is ife of man in- on dignity and we apprehend id. Subjection liberty. It is js, and light to iting heart duty of living igion, that love Shun all debts Icome it as the d destiny, and continuous and THE TRUE ARISTOCRACY. Virtue alone is true nobility. — Juvenal. Whoe'er amidst the sons Of reason, valor, liberty, and virtue, Displays distinguished merit, is a noble Of Nature's own creating. Thomson. Howe'er It be, it seems to me, 'Jii only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets. And simple fsdth than Norman blood. Tennyson. You may depend upon it that there are as good hearts to serve men in palaces as in cottages. — Robert Owen. A king can mak a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a' that ; But an honest man 's aboon his might, Guid faith he mauna fa' that ! For a' that, and a* that. Their dignities and a' that. The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth. Are higher ranks than a' that. Burns. High-dizened, most expensive persons, Aristocracy soKalled, or Best at the world, beware, beware what proofs you are Hiving here of bettemess and bestness I A select populace, with money in its purse, and driUed a little by the posture- master : good Heavens ! — Carlyle. Whosoever will be great among you, shall be your minbter ; and whosoever of you wiU be the chiefest, shaU be servant of alL— Jesus Christ. lO ■mm^-- M 146 The Aim of Life. 'pi^E use of the adjective "true" implies that •■■ there is a false aristocracy. Almost every good thing in the worid has its counterfeit; and almost every evil institution or custom in human society is a prophetic or remiuiscent counter- feit or caricature of a good institution or custom. The word " aristocracy" has primarily a politi- cal significance. It is from two Greek words, &purto%, "the best," and /rparo?, "power; " whence ipurTOKparia, which means the rule of the best. Webster defines "aristocracy" as " A governing body composed of the best men m the state," and then significantly adds con- cerning this definition : " Odsole/e and very rarer Such is the sense of the word in Ben Jonson's lines : — «« If the Senate Right not our quest in this, I wiU protest them To all the world no aristoeracy." Commonly the word has designated a privileged class of people who claimed superiority and nilership over the multitude by virtue of an assumed distinction in blood and consequent rights. Intrinsically the aristocratic idea has a founda- tion in justice and the well-being of man. The best ought to rule ; the best ought to set the 714^ True Aristocracy. 147 mplies that most every terfeit; and n in human nt counter- \ or custom, •ily a politi- reek words, "power; " the rule of ocracy" as le best men f adds con- d very rarer en Jonson's »tthem a privileged eriority and nrtue of an consequent \a& a founda» f man. The lit to set the pattern of living to the multitude. And un- doubtedly, at some times, there has been an approach to the realization of this idea. There have been prophetic moments in the history of various nations when the best did rule; when those who were fittest in intelligence and char- acter gave the law politically and socially to the masses. But often the " best " has meant sim- ply the strongest or the most crafty, or the rich- est and proudest. Then the aristocrats, instead of the best, were really the worst, because they used their larger intelligence and power for selfish ends and in tyrannous ways. History tells us how the aristocracy in many lands be- came an arrogant and exclusive caste founded on circumstances of birth and inheritance, and allied itself with the worst forms of despotism. Such was the case, for example, in France a: .ecedent to the Revolution. Aristocracy, as »i specific form of government, has been rare and transitory ; but as a caste it has been well-nigh universal. In its radical sense it is not incon- sistent with democracy, for in a wise democracy the best will be chosen by the people to admin- ister the government But the term "aristoc- racy" has beor^me almost inseparably associated with the idea of a privileged and usually a titled class in which were fostered notions diat are ■■-^^^^•■:''t:^) 148 The Aim of Life, inimical to democracy, and, indeed, to a broad humanity. In America, where there is no titled class called "the nobility," the aristo- cratic idea has survived, and has produced classes ( that claim superiority on the ground of various distinctions, -for example, on the ground of ,, certain social traditions handed down through several generations, or on actual or imaginary descent from a " noble " family of the Old World, or on inherited wealth and the social eminence which the possession of money gives. In the Southern States the aristocratic idea was joined with the assumed right to own slaves. Some- times, also, there have appeared aristocratic pre- tensions based on political position and service, the worst form of the aristocratic idea is that which rests solely, or mainly, on the distinction of large wealth. This form has become the most serious menace' of free popular govern- ment In our daily speech we hear the omi- nous terms, "railroad kings," and "coal barons, and the like. But I do not propose now to dis- cuss the relation of the aristocratic idea to civil government. The word "aristocracy" expresses a true and valuable idea. As the rule of the best, it takes its place among the lofty ideals of the individual and of society. The true idea of -rssr^vSJMfgS! 1 1 III HI I ngiMiUMiiiiiiiirffifniiiif , to a broad :here is no the aristo- luced classes i id of various e ground of own through or imaginary e Old World, :ial eminence ives. In Uie ea was joined aves. Some- istocratic pre- 1 and service. ic idea is that :he distinction J become the pular govern- hear the omi- " coal barons," )se now to dis- ic idea to civil »resses a true of the best, it ' ideals of the ,e true idea of The True Aristocracy. 149 aristocracy is the primitive idea raised to the high level of Christian morality. It is the pos- session and exercise of power by the best. The best are the most capable, the most generous, the wisest, and the purest. Such ought to rule ; such ought to wield the great formative and guid- ing forces of human society. This is but saying that the progress of man is toward the suprem- acy of truth and goodness, and the ideal of soci- ety is the Kingdom of God. There is a deep and prophetic insight in Carlyle's words: All that Democracy ever meant lies there: the attainment of a truer and truer Aristocracy, or government by the.5«/." The rule of the best implies the prevalence of righteousness, or the love of God and the love of man. in all who direct the course of human thought and conduct. The best are the holiest, -that is, the most nearly whole in all that constitutes true manhood. The rulership which these are to exercise is not the rulership of mere power; nor is it dependent on material means and forces, as of riches and armies. - but it is the rulership of moral influence mhenng in moral excellence. In one word, it is a rulership of service. The highest idea of excellence that man has ever attained has come to him concretely expressed in the person of mtmmm^lflf The Aim of Life. 150 Jesus Christ. He was recognized by his dis- ciples, he is recognized by ever-increasing numbers of men, as the rightful Teacher and Lord ; and no ideal does Jesus more completely fill than that of the Great Servant. His testi- mony was : " I came not to be ministered unto but to minister. " The ideas of God which men have cherished illustrate the progress of men in moral perception. Of old the dominant ele- ment in the idea of God was power. Taught by Jesus Christ, we perceive that the domi- nant element in the true idea of God is love; and service is the expression of love, or love in action. God is the supreme Aristocrat, and His rule is the rule of the absolutely best. God does not rule men by mere Almightiness, but by goodness ; His government over moral beings is a ministration of service. Christ's giving himself for the salvation of the world was the great typical divine act; it was revelatory of the whole divine method. It was not an exceptional feature of God's rela- tion to men save in its form; it was simply the appearance and realization in time of that divine love-nature and love-impulse which has no limitations of time and place, but was "before the foundations of the world," and will be when the world has become a memory. y his dis< -increasing eacher and completely His testi- }tered unto which men s of men in ninant ele- r. Taught the domi- od is love; )ve, or love Aristocrat, >lutely best. mightiness, : over moral e. Christ's )f the world ct ; it was aethod. It God's rela- was simply time of that le which has :e, but was wrorld," and e a memory. L-Vt:'«'.Ss.'i*i>iiL-i»t>?3I'-i'--.. ■■a!B!l«»WMlMBaW'lM»»BW M l l l» « l )IHI.H»t|»lMM t^S^^ uiir^ i IS rififi The True Aristocracy. 151 With this self-sacrifice all of Christ's teachings and actions are consonant. In Him we have set before us both the elements and the legiti- mate uses of true power. To be good is to be mighty; to rule is to serve. The escutcheon of the Prince of Wales bears the motto, Ich dien, I serve. That is the fundamental idea of real kingship. The worth of power Her 'n its subjection to the behests of holy love .mnip- otence even has value only as it is the invest- ment of absolute goodness. Jesus Christ was the mightiest of men because he was the best of men, — because he was pre-eminently the servant. He said to his disciples, after an illustrative act of humblest service : " Ye call me Teacher and Lord ; and ye say well, for so I am. If I, then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, ye also ought to wash one another's feet." If the lowest form of service is characteristic of the divine manhood of Jesus, much more is the highest form, which has its striking symbol in the cross. We are apt, from very reverence, to push ofif into a realm apart the culminating act of jesus's ministry to the world, his self-sacrifice on Calvary, and separate it, in our thoughts, from the realm of example and instruction; but Jesus is nowhere SQ eiitpr^^sly and impres- iV The Aim of Life. 152 sively the Teacher and Lord of men as in that act by which he lays down his life for the world. The apostle argues rightly that we ought also to lay down our lives for our fellow- men. The sacrifice of Jesus is more than a mystery for the contemplation of adoring faith ; it is a formula for daily living. The history of the personalities whose service to humanity has brightened and bettered the world through all the centuries, as well as the life and teach- ing of Jesus, make plain the truth that the constitutive elements of real greatness are moral, that goodness alone is true power, and that sovereignty and service are not anti- thetical but correlative terms. Men aspire for greatness, and crave power; they seek pre-eminence among their fellow- men ; and Jesus and the saints of all ages say to them: "Whoever wishes to become great among you shall be your minister; and who- ever wishes to be first among you shall be your servant." In these words is expressed the true idea of aristocracy, —the best rule, because the best serve. Selfishness prompts continually to self-service, but selfishnses can never achieve greatness, nor can it be enduringly power- ful. From the spiritual point of view Satan is the embodiment of irremediable weakness. ii-^ » ' . ■i j. f ff y^ "*' ' ^ ' M »i»i|aNMfciiii*i I as in that ife for the iy that we our fellow- (lore than a oring faith ; rhe history 3 humanity rid through and teach* th that the :atness are power, and I not anti- •ave power; leir fellow- all ages say ;come great ■; and who- liall be your sed the true because the ntinually to iver achieve igly power- view Satan e weakness. Tfa True Aristocracy. 153 The apostle says that Jesus Christ was mani- fested to destory the Devil and all his works ; and is not the process of destruction going on in the increasing recognition by men of the truth inat selfishness is weakness, and only love is indestructible and invincible? We have now got our point of view. The true aristocracy is composed of those who have attained, or who aspire to, eminence in power to serve their fellow-men according to the spirit and law of Jesus Christ. To this aristocracy belong all who have mastered the selfishness that is the bane of human life, and, in whatever sphere they may labpr, make all their work beneficent by animating it with a purpose to do good to the world. The fundamental idea of the false aristocracy is, that service to self is the legitimate and chief object of desire and endeavor. " Other men may serve ; I must be served. Other men may toil ; I must receive the fruits of their toil. Other men may suffer; I must have pleasure and immunity from care." In its subtler forms the false aristocratic spirit manifests itself in contempt for poverty and plainness of person and dress, in scorn af the simple, common relations and pleasures of life, and in disregard of the more robust jrirtues. It is marked by a pride that, assuming to be ■ 1 54 The Aim of Life. noble, is often cruel. It measures men and women, not by their own real worth, but by the accident of birth, or position, or possessions; and it counts the bronzed face and toil-worn hand and ill-cut coat as marks of a lower order Often in the Old-World aristocracies there was something genuinely noble; for with eminence of station was joined eminence in generosity, and chivalrous regard for the happi- ness and well-being of the humble A true nobility coined the phrase noblesse oblige. But the aristocracy of mere wealth has often been marked by a spirit that was arrogant and selfish. . ,,«.«*. The question of real importance is not : What are your antecedents; what are your social connections; or what are you worth? But, what are you in quality of mind and heart, in purpose and aim? You may be the son or daughter of "a hundred earls;" you may walk in the most brilliant circles of fashion; you may have the wealth of a Rothschild or a Gould, -but if you have not truth and honor and, above all. love for your Jellow-men the humblest soul that lives not tor self but for humanity and God takes rank above you. The spirit of Jesus Christ puts on a man the mark of a finer distinction than even the most splen- Th$ True Aristocracy. 155 es men and h, but by the possessions ; ind toil-worn ' of a lower aristocracies ble ; for with eminence in for the happi- ible. A true e oblige. But as often been arrogant and ; is not : What e your social worth? But, and heart, in )e the son or you may walk fashion; you (thschild or a ruth and honor sllow-men, the )r self but for )ove you. The man the mark the most splen- did genius. The mn 11 or woman who has most fully developed the disposition and capacity to serve, belongs to God's nobility. Springing out of the true idea of aristocracy — that it is the rule of the best, that the best are the good, and that their rulership is emi- nence in service — are several practical thoughts to which I ask your serious attention. I. The true aristocrat is not as/tamed to work By many labor is deemed essentially ignoble. -especially if it be manual labor; but man was created for action and achieve- ment. The Hebrew law-giver, in the simple and massive legislation which his inspired mind devised for the government of his people, said: "Six days shalt thou labor and do all thy work." The command was positive, not merely negative. The prohibition of labor on the seventh day was not the whole statute. A people just emancipated from bondage, under which they had suffered from an excess erf toil, needed a check raised against the natural reac- tion which freedom would induce. Order, government, and civilization could arise only among a people incited and disciplined to voluntary labor. Most who read this old com- mand see only the prohibition. Labor is not a curse but a blessing. The spirit of the \^' 156 The Aim of Life. Mosaic precept is always mamfest in the alive and growing man. Brain and hands find the world a workshop; all Nature is a store of materials. He who has not learned to do some useful task, and has not developed some profit- able skill, is deficient in the first and simplest art of living. Man is the creator or producer or fashioner. Even the poet is called m the old Greek tongue wo»»}ti,9, the maker \Axvxn^ reprobation has always rested on the indo ent ; he is the unprofitable servant who is cast into outer darkeness." out of the bright circle of those who know the joy of happy toil. Lazi- ness is the primitive and least respectable, or rather, most contemptible, form of selfishness. There always have been those who claimed, or at least assumed, the right to subsist on the labor of others. That claim often has been a prime article in the creed of titled nob.hties It underlay the pretensions and practices of slavemr and of political despotism. Its funda- mental source is not the circumstances of a particular age. or the character of a particular civilization, but human selfishness. It s simply the demand for service to self at what- ever cost to others, and is both ignoble and wicked; for it is a practical denial of the obli- gation which God has laid upon every man to be a doer of that which is good. In the alive nds find the s a store of d to do some , some profit- and simplest ■ or producer called in the et. A divine the indolent; who is "cast bright circle py toil. Lazi- sspectable, or )f selfishness, who claimed, subsist on the en has been a led nobilities, i practices of n. Its funda- mstances of a jf a particular hness. It is self at what- h ignoble and ial of the obli- 1 every man to )d. The True Aristocracy. 157 Christianity affirms both the duty and the dignity of labor. " If a man will not work, neither shall he eat." "We are workers together with God." The tasks of men take rank from their comparative beneficence, but the real dignity of labor derives from the spirit and motive of the worker. It is noble to be a factor in the great productive enterprises of the world; it is noble to be a toiler, however humble the task. I have stood sometimes on the street-corner in the evening, and watched the troops of workmen returning home fr. m factories and mills after the day's work .as done. Their clothes often were coarse and soiled, and their hands and faces begrimed with smoke and dirt ; but in their solid, patiei.i industry I saw a higher patent of nobility than any that the haughtiest count or lord who lounges his life away in the salons of Pans or London can boast. There is far more manli- ness in the brawny hand that comes calloused and scarred from honest toll in the iron-mui than in the bejewelled and immaculate fingers of the perfumed exquisite who through the for- tune of inheritance, perhaps, is not compelled to work for his bread, and will not work for anything else. But the dignity of labor does not belong specially to manual labor; it^elongs .P'' 1^8 The Aim of Life. to all honest, productive work, whether of hand or brain, though it is manual labor of which men are more often ashamed, and which they more readily despise. Be workers, then, in some strong and earn- est way. Make your days stand for something done. Neither heaven nor earth has any place for the drone; he is a libel on his species. No glamour of wealth or social prestige can hide his essential ugliness. It is better to carry a hod or wield a shovel in honest endeavor to be of some use to humanity, than to be nursed in luxury and be a parasite. " Think that day lost whose low descending sun ^ Views from thy hand no noble action done." 2. The true aristocrat is ashamed to do that which is low and mean. He will be honest not to the letter of the law, but to the level of his conscience. He will not poison his service to humanity, whatever vocation he may fill, by anything that is obnoxious to the finest sense of honor. There is often in the practical morals of men, as in money, a double standard: the one is gold; the other is silver or brass or even clay. What I mean is just this : the true man always does his best work, and always gives full weight. How often men measure their itM)MiMfc .ijsKiamasms .. is!Kg^'6iimiung and earn- for something has any place t species. No tige can hide ter to carry a indeavor to be > be nursed in ending sun >n done." ned to do that be honest not le level of his his service to ; may fill, by finest sense of actical morals standard : the * or brass or this: the true d always gives measure their ■^-sBetittM MiiiMamm The True Aristocracy. 159 obligation by their opportunity to evade the strict demands of righteousness ! Their service to their fellow-men takes its quality not from their own pure pt .rpose, but from the condition, the knowledge, or the power of appreciation of those whom they serve. For one man they do their best, for another they do less, saying: "Anything is good enough for him." How , many times we take mean advantages of our fellow-rnen, and sometimes grow so blind that we think to take a mean advantage of God, — like those degenerate Hebrews whom the prophet rebuked, who offered in sacrifice the weak and the sick and the lame of their flocks. The highest ethical standard in the world is that of a genuine and deep love for man; and the true man looks not to the law nor to the defec- tive ideas and partial opinions of his fellows, but to the claims of love for the gauge and standard of his service. There is a great deal of respect- able meanness in the world; you may find it even among those who profess to be Christians. It is the meanness of trading on appearances of devotion to the good of men for the sake of pri- vate gain. The gain sought may be money, for there are those like the hypocrite whom Tenny- son etches with caustic : — ■ '^'■-^-.-iiiiibi lii&ii. ft 1 60 The Aim of Life. ^ « Who never naming God except for gun, '^ So never took that useful name in v^ ; Made Him his cat's-paw, and the cross his tool, And Christ his b^t to trap the dupe and fool.' Alas, alas, to what depths of contemptible iniquity does selfishness sometimes sink the soul of man ! The Pharisee boasts of his tithe- giving, while he " devours widows' houses, and for a pretence makes long prayers." The man who wrongs you most, does it under cover of doing you a benefit. True service rises far above this fog-bank of deceitful and pretentious selfishness, and makes its contribution to the good of men in the dear sunlight of honest, high-minded love. " Be what thou seemest ; Uve thy creed ; Let the great Master's steps be thine." Serve men without pretence;, true love is as honest as God's sunshine. It can never stoop to the low plane of Ananias, who pledges all and secretly withholds a part of the offering. 3. The true aristocrat is generous and chival- rous to the weak and the poor. It was an emi- nent distinction of Jesus that he preached the gospel to the poor. And the gospel that he preached was not a message of mere patroniz- ing pity and ostentatious benevolence ; it was T X ! ii " -n S^WftJSSSSIlEBU igjfftfg •^g-'w^^^itaf^g^" I'tfEi-^JSW'?. '?*•**'■**■*'*•■*'" r'^'^'Tiiii |gain, ain; ss his tool, and fool." contemptible nes sink the s of his tithe- s' houses, and s." The man nder cover of is fog-bank of ss, and makes n in the clear >ve. creed; I thine." true love is as in never stoop ho pledges all he offering. >us and chival- [t was an emi- : preached the [ospel that he mere patroniz- olence; it was >lMnnas>E!M!ll«MtovM«MalMMM The True Aristocracy. i6i the love of Goc for men, and His Universal Fatherhood, which instantly dignified the hum- blest soul with the consciousness and the pre- rogatives of a divine sonship. He went to publicans and sinners; he made his home among the lowly. To him the distinctions of wealth and rank had absolutely no weight. Was there ever so complete a leveller? And for the most wretched he had no faintest air of contempt Wherever he found a human soul, there he found a temple of the Holy Ghost. The true follower of the Great Servant will love humanity apart from the accidents of place and possession. His heart wIU be utterly void of arrogance and scorn'; he \7ill recognize man- hood and womanhood beneath the disguises of poverty or of wealth. He will be, not patroniz- ing, but gently gracious and helpful to the poor. He wUl not judge, but shield and pity the erring. He will be chivalrous to woman in whatever station he finds her, and though she be fallen and ruined will cover her very sins with the mantle of his charity. The Christian man is ever the gentleman. Love is ever magnani- mous ; the spirit of service is a spirit of essen- tial nobleness. How pitiful often are the religious ideals of men who, whatever their professions, have not learned of Jesus Christ. Tlfeir piety II mmmmm> BSHMBlUlM-i!' L^ 162 The Aim of Life. is inflated with pride ; their charity is deformed with condescension; their benevolence is poi- soned with vanity; their viitue is marred with cynicism; their very love is polluted with a strain of the mercenary spirit To how many even religion has not been a pathway to the true nobility; for true nobility is reached only by that love every pulse of which is unselfish service. Young men and women, there is an aristoc- racy which abides. No revolutions can over- turn it; no progress of the species can carry us beyond it; no attainments can out-rank its fine and pure distinction, — it is the aristocracy of brave, true, unselfish service to your fellow- beings in the spirit of Jesus Christ. Strive to enter into that noble order and fellowship. Let your aim in life be not to get, but to give ; not to squeeze out of every circumstance and situa- tion and opportunity some benefit for yourselves.- but rather to make every pulsation of your beat- ing hearts tributary to the increase of human knowledge and comfort and peace. Work as those sent into the world with a sacred commis- sion to do some worthy task; work as those who see in all toil the sphere of a high conse- cration to noble ends; work as those who bear within them a divinely human susceptibility to is deformed ence is poi- narred with ited with a » how many iway to the eached only is unselfish } an aristoc- is can over- ;s can carry out-rank its 5 aristocracy your fellow- It. Strive to owship. Let to give; not ice and situa- or yourselves,* of your beat- se of human :e. Work as cred commis- rork as those I high conse- ose who bear sceptibility to The True Aristccracy. . every cry of want and every plea of sorrow and pain. Take not the slave of ambition, not the victim of self-indulgent passion, not the scramb- ler for position and power, not the mere gold- seeker and pleasure-seeker for your model, but take the pure and chivalrous and merciful and manly and holy and divine Christ,— the servant of servants, the Son of God, — who might have grasped a world, and chose a cross that by his cross he might reconcile all men unto God, through the power of self-sacrifice and uncon- querable love. " Since sendee ia the highest lot, And all are in one body bound. In all the world the place is not Which may not with this bliss be crowned. " The lonely glory of a throne May yet this lowly joy preserve; Love may make that a stepping-stone, And raise ' I reign ' into ' I serve. '" EDUCATION. H«w the block off, and get out the man. — Pope. The true purpose of education is to cherish and unfold the ■eed of immortality already sown within us. — Mrs. Jameson. The fruit of liberal education is not learning, but the capa- city and desire to Ittam ; not knowledge, but power. — C. W. Eliot. There is no busine ■ nc avocation whatever, which ^rtll not permit a man who has the inclination, to give a little time, every day, to study.— Daniel Wittenbach. Education keeps the key of life ; and a libei-al education insures the first conditions of freedom, — namely, adequate knowledge and accustomed thought. —Julia Wakd Howe. A wise man knows an ignorant one, because he has been ignorant himself; but the ignorant cannot recognize the wise, because he has never been wise.— />■««• the Ptrsim. I shall detain you no longer in the demonstration of what we should not do, but strait conduct ye to a hillside, where I will point ye out the right path of a virtuous and noble educa- tion; laborious indeed at the first ascent, but also so smooth, so green, so full of goods, than the )e confessed growth has ethod. The d early, and difficult to leir youth in for parents, \ the use of ition is thus tus : " From f they teach — to manage :erity, and to who were the ition, divided and gymnas- 1, the second ittention was : Plato said, livifte nature Eelucaitou. about which a man can consult than about the training of himself, and those who belong to him;" and to him education was of so divme a nature because its end was virtue and the highest good of the state. In his scheme of political and social organization he made educa- tion compulso^, thus anticipating our compul- sory-education laws by more than two thousand years. .Eschines, a little later than Plato, gave the significant testimony: "You are well aware that it is not only by bodily exercises, by educational institutions, or by lessons in music, that our youth are trained, but much more effectually by public examples." The Romans also paid special attention to gymnastics, and their scheme of study was oratory and gymnastics, -oratory covering a ground nesrly co-extensive with music in the Greek schem*?. In all or these cases — the Persian, Greek, and Roman -education was largely practical, having its end in action; yet among representative Romans as well as Greeks there was a deeper idea of education than^ appears on the surface of their formal schemes. For example, Horace said: "The germs of sinful desire are to be rooted out; and minds weakened by indulgence must be trained by sterner discipline;" and again: " It fs training m i i m mmm 0*>mm!i>!^- 1 68 The Aim of Life. that improves the powers planted in us by Nature, and sound culture that is the armor of the breast; when moral training fails, the noblest endowments of Nature are blemished and lost." Indeed, the best modern concep- tions of education have been anticipated by the best minds of antiquity. But the growth in method has been enormous, especially in recent times; and with this growth in method there has been also advance in elevation and breadth of idea. In all historic times some men have perceived that true education terminates not on skill, but on character. Montaigne, criti- cising the system of education in his day, the middle third of the sixteenth century, says: " It has for its end, to make us not good and wise, but learned; in this it has succeeded. It has not taught us to follow and to embrace virtue, but it has impressed upon us the derivation and etymology of words : we know how to decline virtue, if we do not know how to love it; if we do not know what prudence is by performance and experience, we know it by cant and by rote." The modern idea of education is much broader than the ancient, and is at once more philosophical and more scientific. The founders of the Prussian National system define educa- Education. 169 in us by le armor of fails, the blemished rn concep- tated by the growth in ly in recent ethod there and breadth e men have ninates not ligne, criti- lis day, the itury, says: ot good and succeeded, to embrace pon us the s: we know t know how at prudence s, we know >n is much t once more rhe founders efine educa- tion as "the harmonious and equable evolution of the human powers." This definition empha- sizes the idea that education is a process not of acquisition but of development; that it is not adding something to faculty, but rather is enlarging faculty by Kit. aci&imilation of knowl- edge, by exercise, ind by growth. James Mill, ex,jressing the utilitarian view, said that the end of education is "to render the individual, as much as possible, an instru- ment of happiness; first, to himself, and next, to other beings. " This is scarcely so much a definition of education, as a statement of the result at which it is to aim; but a definition is implied. John Stuart Mill, son of James Mill, defined education as " The culture which each generation purposely gives to those who are to be its successors, in order to qualify them for at least keeping up, and if possible for raising, the improvement which has been attained." This definition apparently involves the element of heredity as well as direct training. Still bet- ter than either of the preceding is this by Daniel Webster, in his address to the ladies of Richmond: "The attainment of knowledge does not comprise all which is contained in the larger term of education. The feelings are to be disciplined; the passions are to be re- A X^ 1 70 The Aim of Life, strained; true and worthy motives are to be inspired; a profound, religious feeling is to be instilled, and pure morality inculcated under all circumstances. All this is comprised in education." In accordance with the root idea of the word, which means to lead out, Worcester defines education as " the act of developing and culti- vating the various physical, intellectual, and moral faculties." More explicitly Professor Whitney defines: "Education, in a broad sense, comprehends all that disciplines and enlightens the understanding, corrects the tem- per, cultivates the taste, and forms the man- ners and habits;" and he gives as an example this pregnant passage from James Freeman Clarke: "Education, in the true sense, is not mere instruction in Latin, English, French, or history. It is the unfolding of the whole human nature. It is growing up in all things to our highest possibility." I have quoted these numerous definitions in order to illustrate the development of the idea of education and its growth toward comprehension of the entire scope of human nature. It is common to treat of education in a three-fold aspect, corresponding to the three- i^* s are to be ling is to be :ated under )mpri8ed in of the word, ster defines g and culti- lectual, and y Professor in a broad :ipUnes and ;cts the tem- ns the man- I an example es Freeman sense, is not \i, French, or )f the whole in all things definitions in ment of the )wth toward pe of human ucation in a to the three- Education. 171 fold division of man into body, mind, and spirit ; to educate is to bring to the highest possible perfection the physical organism, the mental faculties, and the moral nature. This perfec- tion is to be approached through a harmonious and continuous development. But a harmoni- ous culture of man does not imply an equal emphasis on all three lines of development; the order of importance is the reverse of the order of statement, — the moral takes prece- dence of the intellectual, and the intellectual takes precedence of the physical. This pre- cedence is not temporal but essential. It is neither right nor wise, in any scheme of educa- tion, to neglect the body ; but the body may easily demand too much attention. We need good, sound bodies, for physical health and vigor are intimately and influentially related to mental and even moral health and vigor; but we do not need to be athletes in order to be well developed. The great workers in the world, the men and women whose thought rules an age or shapes a civilization, are not gymnasts: neither Plato nor Shakespeare had extraordinary muscles; Bacon, I suppose, might easily have been tossed over the shoul- ders of a coal-heaver; John Wesley scarcely would have served as a model for a sculptor of i •WTt^T**; .1 Garx.n: : - : - :-w^ .r'TlO •f**'y'^^^'''y'f'l^*''**'^'^ .^ 172 TAe Aim of Life. the Greek school. History testifies that pro- gress has been achieved, manners have been reformed, virtue has been diffused, and civiliza- tion has been raised to higher levels, by the brains and hearts of men, by mental and moral force ; and the brute force of muscle has always served, or, if it has ruled, it has wrought devastation and retarded progress. We cannot rationally put the cultivation of the physical organism on a level with the cul- tivation of mind and taste and moral sense. Body is the pedestal and instrument, not the equal and companion, much less the master of the soul. With reference to the body, then, a true education involves such care and culture of the physical system as shall make it most com- pletely fit to serve the spirit. Any special cultivation of the muscles rapidly encroaches on the proper development and use of the mind. It is very rare that a man can be a great athlete and at the same time a profound scholar; as the rule, the man who swings a pair of forty-pound dumb-bells will make no large contribution to the intellectual and moral wealth of society. The truth is that every one has a certain amount of vital force which may be increased, but only within certain limits; wtmmmmmm fMiiiiiiHB ■as ■wwiniiiiiiiiiifnrii es that pro- have been and civiliza- vels, by the :al and moral le has always has wrought s. cultivation of with the cul- moral sense, nent, not the the master of then, a true culture of the it most com* Any special ly encroaches 1 use of the lan can be a xie a profound vho swings a will make no :ual and moral ;hat every one ce which may ertain limits; EducaHon. 173 if that vital force is expended chiefly in physi-' cal exercise, it cannot, of course, be devoted to mental culture and work. Too much exer- cise interferes with the aims of the thinker as certainly as too little. Here, for the present, we may leave the whole subject of physical culture with the sin- gle reflection that the body demands such and so much attention as shall make it the fittest instrument of mind and soul. We neglect the body at our peril ; we make too much of it at our peril. Saint Paul had the right point of view when he said : " I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection." Education, then, conceived in its relation to our mental and moral nature, is the process of unfolding and strengthening the rational facul- ties, the sensibilities, and the will, in confor- mity with the law of righteousness, and by means of instruction, use, and discipline. It is not necessary, at this time, to enter into any detailed analysis of our mental and moral natures; but it is important clearly to understand that education is the progressive attainment of strong, well-furnished, symmet- rical, and efficient manhood and womanhood. In the noble words of John Milton, it is to be ** inflamed with the study of learning and the WDMIMlini tuiat'jiauu ' ■ ■""^■^"■m l t ii t^ MOBli mmamm mmm msa/sssssssss afat^mallStmKMam,^.. 174 TAg Aim of Life. -sdOniration of virtue; stirred up with high hopes of living to be brave men and worthy patriots, dear to God. " The rightly educated man is one whose reason is clear, vigorous, and comprehensive, whose judgment is just, whose conscience is quick, whose feeling is generous and pure, and whose will is disciplined and inflexible in right purpose. If one has not these qualities he is not, in the best sense, educated, no matter how extensive may be his learning. (i) In the first place, education is the awakening and development of the intellectual powers, — the training and disciplining the reason, sharpening the power of observation, strengthening the judgment, and storing the memory with factp and principles. To live wisely and efficiently we need to be able to think accurately and independently. Every one should learn to form his own judgments, else he is the victim of circumstances and the puppet of other minds. I^eaining to think is learning to stand on one's own feet. Educa- tion is a process of coming into rational self- possession. (2) But reason is not properly separable from conscience, or the moral sense. For con- venience, we are accustomed to discriminate WMI m Education. »75 with high ,nd worthy educated :orous, and ust, whose is generous plined and le has not best sense, may be his on is the intellectual plining the ibservation, storing the s. To live be able to tly. Every judgments, ices and the to think is et. Educa- itional self- y separable s. For con- iiscriminate between the rational and the moral in the actions of the mind; still further, we dis- criminate between the moral and the religious. As a matter of fact, we find many examples of men who are intellectually but not morally developed. Reason and conscience seemingly are divorced. Likewise we find examples of those who have moral insight and conviction without religious cultivation. But in the true conception of man his nature is an integer; he is a rational, but he is also a moral and a religious, being. These three capacities of his nature are radical, and no culture that devel- ops one and not the others is a complete cul- ture. The aptitudes and capacities that relate man to his fellow-man are no more original and persistent than those which relate him to God. Reason suffers serious loss when it is separated from the sense of moral law and the sense of Deity. All ethical and spiritual exercises are in some sense also exercises of the reason. Faith is essentially rational. The mind works as completely and as normally in worship and prayer as in solving a problem in geonnetry; the process may be different in each case, but in both it is natural and entirely consistent with the laws of man's spiritual being. You may have, indeed, an educated reason without —rjaUtA ftwiiiiii'ifi'iaiTini 1 1 iiinOTi wtm i --J 176 The Aim of Life. a clear and regulative moral perception; but you are not educated, — the education is partial and defective. The development of the moral faculties is as truly an element of sound educa- tion as the development of the mind in logical skill. He who has a dull conscience, or a heart that is insensible to spiritual motives, is not, in the best sense, educated. The relation of those truths and objects which are distinctly and genuinely religious, to the awakening and unfolding of mental power, is so marked and so vital that Christianity, and the divine revela- tion which is the ground and reason of Chris- tianity, have stimulated the intellectual life and enlarged the intellectual horizon of man more than anything else. The great ideas of God, Incarnation, Righteousness, Love, Salva- tion, and Immortality have roused and elevated the reason as no ideas and facts of science or art, separated from religion, ever could. Our education must take its measure from the whole breadth of our nature as moral beings, or it will be partial and inadequate. We are so used to thinking of education as a science, that we have scarcely thought of reli- gious instruction and experience as a necessary part of complete education ; but such they cer- tainly are. Perhaps you have been thinking that WESSS eption; but ion is partial uf the moral sound educa- nd in logical ce, or a heart ives, is not, 2 relation of re distinctly krakening and larked and so ivine revela- jon of Chris- ellectual life -izon of man freat ideas of Love, Salva- and elevated of science or could. measure from moral beings, education as a ought of reli- is a necessary such they cer- I thinking that ifiMe Education. 177 religion is something aside from the ordinary course and occupation of the mind. But the truth is that human nature being what it is, the only natural and complete unfolding of it into strengtii and beauty is through that culture which, while it develops the reason, develops also the spiritual sense, and awakens the capa- city for apprehending God. (3) The sensibility also is to be cultivated and trained. We are quite as much creatures of feeling as we are creatures of thought. The emotions and passions of the heart are capable of a development that enlarges and enriches the soul. The susceptibility to grief, joy, pleasure, pain, fear, and hope; the sense of the beautiful and the sublime ; the power of sympathy, pity, love, and adoration, — all that properly is char- acterizf^d as feeling, is an important part of our nature. Education, in the complete sense, involves a schooling of the heart in every pure and generous emotion, and in large apprecia- tion of all that is good. The man with a narrow sympathy, or little capacity for loving, is so far an uneducated man, however bril- liant or solid may be his intellectual attain- ments. (4) A ve«-5' important part of education is the development and disciplh^e of the will; 13 .ifV; The Aim of Life. without this, the largest attainments of knowl- edge lose much of their value. The young man who comes from college generously fur- nished with knowledge of languages, sciences, and history, is ordinarily considered well-edu- cated; but if he is vacillating in purpose, irreso- lute, and wanting in sustained and concentrated energy, he is but half educated. He is like a shapely and richly-freighted vessel without keel and rudder, and with no fire in the furnaces. The will is the true propulsive power in a man, and if that is weak or ill-rrgulated he must be ineffective. No education is adequate to the needs of life which does not produce decision of character, courage, self-control, and persever- ance. There is no faculty of the soul -no power of r: ison, no susceptibility of heart, no capacity f;.r virtue, no germ of ^^^'^J-''!^^\ may net be evolved into strength and trained into an efficient element of character. The will is the chief executive in the Republic of our faculties; if it is fit and able to command, because it has been tempered and disciplined m righteousness, it unifies the whole nature, making it harmonious and strong and efficacious Why is it that so many know far better than they do? Mainly it is because they have not a will edu- cated to an equal pitch with reason and con- ■^MMtat«A^MiMto*iiai«iHl of knowl- he young rously fur- sciences, d well-edu- jose, irreso- oncentrated le is like a trithout keel ie furnaces, er in a mant he must be uate to the uce decision nd persever- e soul — no of heart, no nergy — that and trained iracter. The Republic of to command, disciplined in ature, making icious. Why ;han they do? it a will edu- ion- and con- Education. 179 science. Will has been called " the spinal col- umn of personality ; " it is the chief stay of character. An undisciplined will leaves the mind subject to the vagaries of fancy, and think- ing degenerates into dreaming or desultory and profitless speculation ; it leaves the heart a prey to stormy passions, or capricious emotions, and conduct becomes the. expression of irrational and changeful impulse. It is at just this point that many parents make their first and worst mistake in training their children. They seem not to understand that they are responsible for the education of their children's wills, arid that all the culture which they so assiduously bestow on their chil- dren will not save those children's lives from in- efficiency, and perhaps fatal disaster, if their wills are not developed and trained in righteous- ness. We who are seeking education for our- selves should learn speedily that the condition and quality of our wills is the pivotal point in true self-culture. The Biblical idea of the worth and use of the will is a revelation on this matter of education. That idea often has been mis- represented. Religious teachers have affirmed that in our relation to God the will should be suppressed or annihilated. Tennyson sang, with greater truth chan Calvin or Edwards argued : — HiMMMMMMaitiliMiMHiiiitfiiiijMiri^^ 1 80 The Aim of Life. '" " Our wills ura oun, we know not how ; Our wills are ours to make them Thine." Subjection of the will to God is not an abdica- tion or loss of will, any more than subjection of the reason to God is abdication or loss of rea- son. It is only self-will, which is the wilfulness of selfishness, that must be abandoned. There is no way of subjecting our wills to God save the way of that use and discipline by which will becomes the free, persistent executor of right- eousness. To will the wise and good is to have both a free and a strong will. The grand dis- tinction of the mature Christian — that is, the man who is morally and spiritually mature — is that his will is liberated and strengthened and trained to spontaneous holy choices through its rational subjection to God. You see, then, how large is the true idea of education. Get rid of the notion, if you have! it, that education is identical with knowledge of books. Books — good books — are of immense value; they are important means of education. But education is the unfolding of our entire nature — of mind, heart, conscience, and will — » into strength, efficiency, and beauty. It is not what you have that determines whether or not you are educated, but what you are. If your reason acts with clearness, force, and independence, and ""' '■^'•'■''- Education. i8i n thine." an abdica- ibjection of loss of rea- le wilfulness ned There :o God save y which will tor of right- >d is to have le grand dis- -that is, the ' mature — is igthened and lices through true idea of , if you have knowledge of e of immense of education, of our entire ;e, and will — * ity. It is not ther or not you [f your reason pendence, and in entire devotion to truth ; if your sensibility is healthily and discriminatingly susceptible to every exhibition of the beautiful, the sublime, and the good, and your heart is the home of pure love and every generous emotion ; if your conscience responds to the attraction of moral law as the planets respond to the force of gravitation, and your whole soul welcomes God as the flowers welcome the sun; and if your will steadily rules and regulates all your facul- ties in the practice of righteousness, — then you are educated as God means His children to be educated. That is the ideal of culture ; in the light of it every man's realized education is seen to be but relative. There is no completeness here, — only promise and progress. We hear sometimes of those whose education is finished. Alas, for the young man or woman who con- ceives that education is or can be finished in the few years of school-life I You will occasion- ally see advertisements of institutions that call themselves " finishing-schools ; " there is an unsuspected irony in the name. I know of no finishing-school but the school of God's wise, patient providence ; and the course in that school stretches on into the vista that opens beyond the grave. "I carry my satchel still," said the aged Michael Angela MiWHI B??-'-*K n The Aim of Life, Therefore, of necessity, education is pro- gressive ; it is not a getting, biti: a growmg. Plato said: "The true educatior. .s that which draws men from becoming to being. Life here is the school for life hereafter. Our education is to be achieved, "<>* ^y .n^g]^^^' ing or despising the culture which is necea- sary for efficiency in time, because we are swTftly moving toward eternity; but by wisely appreciating the opportunities and duties of Tpresent. and thus making our educato„ here a true basis and beginning of the life ^"Bi:ti^eofyou'mayfeelthatIhavem^^^^ the definition of education so broad that it be- comes vague and unpractical. Is it not true, how ver. fhat we need to broaden rather than to limit our ideas, and to view present duties and possibilities in the hght of their eterna significance? To-day is the seed-tnne of all the future. Whatever acquirements help us to do to-day's tasks better will help us to achieve to-morrow's work better, and next years t^^. and the tasks of all time. The fine resid- uum of to-day's study appears in to-m<>rrow s increase of power. Real acquirement, even the honest effort to acquire, improves our quality, makes our minds broader, our hearts n IS pro- n frrowing. is that to being." fter. Our >y neglect- h is neces- se we are t by wisely duties of r education of tlie life have made 1 that it be- lt not true, rather than esent duties their eternal l-time of all s help us to IS to achieve year's tasks, fine resid- to-morrow's ement, even nproves our ', our hearts Education. 183 more capacious, and our wills at once more resolute and free. To the progressive realization of the ideal education every endeavor toward self-improve- ment contributes; and having the ideal before us helps us to a wiser, as well as inspires us to a more persistent, endeavor. It is scarcely necessary now to speak at length - on the value of education ; that must be appar- ent to every earnest mind. Some one has made the following curious computation: "A bar of iron worth $5, worked into horse-sH s is worth $10.50; made into needles, it i th $355; made into pen-knife blades, it is worth $3,285 ; made into balance-springs of watches, it is worth $250,000." This marvellous progression in value is a vivid illustration of that advance which man makes in the process of educa- tion. He passes from the crude iron of the bar into the tempered steel of the spring ; he becomes continually more of a man, higher in his intrinsic worth, in proportion as he develops toward maturity of mind and soul. The savage seems little above the brute; the saint stands near to God's throne. 2. I have space to say but a few words on the question : How shall education be achieved ? How shall we, in our various circumstances, with mmim tmkw I i84 The Aim of Life. our diflerent endowments and diflerent oppor- tunities, begin and push on this process of devel- opment? Do not forget that this process in not merely intellectual ; furnishing and training the mind alone is not sufficient. The entire nature must be included. It is an important truth that, while all cannot, perhaps, be learned, all may be in some true sense educated. Every one has a^ chance in life's great university. Some of you may be hindered from ever see- ing the inside of a college ; but you need not, and if you are courageous you will not, be hindered from attaining that culture the loss of which no college course, no parchment de- gree, can retrieve. Fi>t, after all, a college is but a means ; it is the best means, both as to economy and efficiency, but not the only means to the lesired end. Go to college if you can. But if you cannot go to college, then seize and luilize every opportunity that life affords you f ;r nu'Ktal and moral self-culture. The ore sw-j Ui.-ans of education are books and '^T .^n -e and experience, which furnish the mate- : : u of knowledge, and that exercise of faculties through which discipline is attained. These two, knowledge and discipline, or truth and power, are the possession of every educated mind. The first principle to learn and apply rent oppor- ;ss of devel- ocess is not id training The entire 1 important , be learned, ted. Every : university, m ever see- >u need not, will not, be ire the loss irchment de- a college is ), both as to ; only means ; if you can. :, then seize t life affords :ulture. The : books and ish the nlate- ie of faculties ined. These or truth and ery educated rn and apply r HitiMMki IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 .^% • I.I 11.25 B5.0 ^^^" H^^H ■^ Ilii |2.2 m ^ ^H ^ U£ 12.0 ■luu U 11.6 1^1 6" Hiotographic Sciences Corporertion •1>^ \ iV N> 23 WBT MAIN STRliT WIBSTH,N.Y. MSM ( 7t« ) I7a-4S03 . .*.;.-.^,.--*' .lit so much of and patience, fe is glorious, t may be, if it id power and Education. The religious aspect of education appears in the relation of faith to a sufficient motive to seek the highest culture. Belief in God and immor- tality gives lofty and enduring motive; self- improvement becomes a sacred duty in the light of our divine relations and destiny. That is not a true interpretation of Christianity which makes it obstructive of the largest self-culture. Jesus Christ is the powerful ally of every youth who aspires to rise toward the full measure of his intellectual possibility. The love of God, instead of being a deterrent, is a stimulant to culture. "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all \hymind" is not less obligatory than "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and soul." An intelligent and loyal devo- tion to Christ is a constant source of impulse toward the only complete education, that edu- cation the result of which appears in a fully developed, spiritual manhood and womanhood. Under the strong and gentle Mastership of Christ you will find yourselves drawn into a fruitful cultivation and a tonic discipline of all your powers. His thoughts will enrich and broaden your minds ; his love will enlarge and purify your hearts, making them the homes of all generous sympathies, all noble affections, and all sweet charities; and his authority will imemKi^iKmtsmmitmumimmMmmimiiii^^- The Aim of Life. train your wills in virtuous choices that will surely develop into righteous habits, and npen at last into permanent characters in every hn- eament of which will shine "the beauty of holiness." es that will A, and ripen in every lin- e beauty of SAVING TIME. Time is the chrysalia of eternity. — Richtkr. Act well at the moment, and you have performed a good act to all eternity. — Lavater. Short as life is we make it still shorter by the careless waste of time. — Victor Hugo. I wasted time, and now time doth waste me. — Shakes- peare. I^st, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered, for they are gone forever. — Horace Mann. If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be the greatest prodigality, since lost time is never found again ; and what we call time enough always proves Uttle enough.— Franklin. See then that ye walk drcumspectiy, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil. — Saint Paul. IT was an old custom to place in the hand of a corpse an hour-glass in which all the sands had run down. It were wiser to put an hour-glass in the hand of the living that there might be before the mind, in the sinking sand, a vl 'id symbol of time's unceasing lapse. Many are saving of money, saving of labor, saving of I r^Mi- I90 The Aim of Life. health, and prodigal of time. The little appre< ciation of time of which a large part of society is guilty has coined itself into the phrase " kill- ing time." What a murder is that! It is strange that, when every moment of time gives space for some high thought, some noble deed, some gain in knowledge and goodness, time should be so lightly esteemed and even scorned. They who set no value on time, who talk of killing time because, forsooth, their own abuse of it brings to them weariness and disgust, are like the drowsing princess who saw not that her necklace of pearls lay broken on the boat's verge, and at every oscillation of the idly rock- ing boat a precious pearl slipped from the severed string into the deep. Why should we save time? Because time is opportunity for life, and time lost cannot be recovered, it is lost forever. Each moment comes to us rich in possibilities, bringing to us duty, privilege, the space and the call for achievement, and, even as we contemplate it, becomes " Portion and parcel of the dreadful past." All life is condensed into the moment that we call "now," and the wasting of a moment is, for that moment, the wasting of a life. W^WmT^'"'- Saving Time. 191 little appre- of society hrase " kill- lat! It is time gives noble deed, )dness, time vren scorned, who talk of r own abuse disgust, are not that her n the boat's :he idly rock- ed from the cause time is St cannot be )ach moment bringing to the call for mtemplate it, d put." •ment that we tf a moment ng of a life. "Dost thou love life? " said Poor Richard, " then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of." " Look here," said De Quincy. " Put into a Roman clepsydra one hundred drops of water ; let these run out as the sands in an hour-glass, — every drop measuring the hun- dredth part of a second, so that each shall repre- sent but the three-hundred-and-sixty-thousandth part of an hour. Now count the drops as they race along ; and, when the fiftieth of the hundred is passing, behold ! forty-nine are not, because already they have perished ; and fifty are not, because they are yet to come. You see, there- fore, how narrow, how incalculably narrow, is the true and actual present. Of that time which we call the present, hardly a hundredth part but belongs either to a past which has fled, or to a future which is still on the wing." An officer apologized to General O. M. Mitchell, the astronomer, for a brief delay, saying he was only a few moments late. " Only a few moments late I " exclaimed the general ; " I have been in the habit of calculating the value of the thou- sandth part of a second." An apparently trifling waste of time has lost a great battle, and changed the political destiny of a continent. An hour or two saved by Napoleon might Ui.ve made Waterloo as proud a remembrance u r France as it is now for England. h i. \ia t i(s i Mm i aie i i«mmmiamSai ■mam 192 The Aim of Life. A few years ago an important astronomical event occurred, — the transit of Venus. AH over the world governments as well as individual men were deeply interested in the coming of that event the successful observation of which would reward the endeavors and verify the patient calculations of many years, and give greater accuracy to astronomical work through all the future. The loss of five minutes, three minutes, one minute, would have hopelessly defeated the purpose for the accomplishment of which so much money had been spent and so great labors had been borne. Ask Professor Newcomb in his observatory at Washington the value of time from a merely scientific point of view, and he will tell you that we have no standard by which adequately to measure its value. But the scientific point of view is not the highest point of view, nor is the scientific value of time its highest value. The chief interests of life are moral and spiritual ; all else is scaffolding and instrument, all else takes its significance from these. Not knowledge and achievement, but character and destiny, are the fundamental concerns; in relation to these time has a transcendent value. Often a just appreciation of the true use and real value of time comes only when the end alike of toil and stronomical /enus. All as individual coining of on of which verify the rs, and give ork through linutes, three ; hopelessly omplishment ;n spent and 1 observatory rem a merely I tell you that Adequately to itific point of ew, nor is the t value. The spiritual; all all else takes nowledge and destiny, are ition to these Often a just real value of ke pf toil and Saving Time. 19^ of pleasure is drawing near. The solemnity of death lies quite as much in the retrospect to which its approach awakens the mind, as in the doubtful prospect. Like the sibylline books, the days enhance prodigiously in value as they diminish in number. And yet there is time enough for life's great ends. "We all com- plain," said Seneca, " of the shortness of time ; and yet we have more than we know what to do with. Our lives are spent either in doing nothing at all, or in doing nothing to the pur- pose, or in doing nothing that we ought to do. We are always complaining that our days are few, and acting as though there would be no end of them." Among all our economies there is none, per- haps, more important, and none less understood and less wisely practised tb'in a true economy of time. What is it to save time? It cannot, like money, be hoarded ; it can be saved only by the manner in which it is spent, for spend it we must. Time spent in recreation, or in seem- ing idleness, is not necessarily wasted ; proper recreation and rest of body and mind are neces- sary elements of a true economy of time. " Take rest," said Ovid; " a field that has rested gives a bountiful crop of corn." On the other hand, time spent in work is not «3 Ik* 194 Tht Aim of Lift. always saved; work is waste if it be done at the expense of needed recreation. Often time is wasted because it is devoted to work that were better left undone. Trivial and needless tasks, tasks that are invented merely to give essential indolence the appearance of industry, belong to the spendthrift of time. How much work is but time " elaborately thrown away I " All evil-doing is waste of time; every hour lived selfishly is thrown away. Wickedness is the worst form of prodigality. Much of work done for merely temporal and material ends, though the ends themselves, in proper subordi- nation to the main ends of life, are legitimate, is waste of time. The miser's life is as really misspent as the prodigal's. Many a man who has toiled through years, avaricious of time, los- ing no moment that he could snatch from sleep in order to turn it into gold, has laid himself down at last in a cheerless grave, and left behind him three-score wasted years, — a loss far out- balancing all his gains. Saving time is using time in accordance witit those physical and moral and spiritual laws under which man is to attain his ends and fulfil his destiny as a child of God. With this fun- damental principle of economy in mind, let us consider the question: How may we save time? be done at Often time > work that md needless •ely to give of industry, How much )wn away ! " every hour 'ickedness is uch of work laterial ends, )per subordi- 'e legitimate, is as really ^ a man who i of time, los- :h from sleep , laid himself nd left behind I loss far out- cordance witl» spiritual laws ;nds and fulfil A^ith this fun- i mind, let us we save time ? Saving Timi. >95 I. Wi maysavt timt by putting it to its best ust. The best use of time is determined by the true aim of life. If acquisition of wealth is the supreme aim, then the best use of time is its persistent expenditure in planning and striving to win and accumulate money. But money is only temporal in value, and even in time its worth and use arc limited. Besides we are not meant to live here always ; this world is but a scene of preparation for another. Money, like every other material thing, derives its chief value, we may even say its entire value, from its pos- sible use in the service of the spirit The earth is the sphere, but in no sense the goal, of man's best aspiration and endeavor. It is a pedestal for us to stand on as we look up, but not a god for us to worship; it is opportunity and instru- ment, not an end. Sad indeed is the lot of him who, making the world his chief good, gains the world and loses himself — the true, spiritual self, in which life attains a divine fulfilment. I temember some lines that v/ere in the school reading-books of thirty years ago : — " The world for sale I hang ou. the sign ; Call every traveller here to me : Who 11 buy this brave estate of mine, And set this weary spirit free ? 'T is going I yes, I mean to fling The bauble from my soul away; 1 11 sell it. whatsoe'er it bring ; The world 's at auction here totates mint are at stated inter- the floors are ;r the precious /e fallen upon fh of the mint irkman was de- > substance on discovered that rried away an . What a gain lest gain, if we nds with some ize the bright, now every day ime by control- to a wise and re minutes that 3. We may save time by taking time to prepare for our life's work. We live in a time when every one seems to be in a hurry. The leisurely life of a century, or even half a century, ago has almost vanished from this Western Hemisphere. The art of resting is well-nigh a lost art. Men are in haste to get rich, in haste to get learning, in haste to get pleasure, in haste to do every- thing but to hasten slowly, and ripen in heart and soul. We have almost a minimum of holidays; and those that we have we spend in laborious pleasure-seeking. We are losing our Sabbath, for in many parts of thf. land the smoke of our factories and mills weaves its dark web over our homes from Monday morning to Monday morn- ing, and our steam-cars rush with smoking axles through all the seven days and nights of the week. One result of this haste is that men are wearing out, and a vast amount of work is done that resembles many of our modern buildings, — it is too quickly done to be permanent. Build- ers and buildings alike endure but half their time. This is the sure-footed Nemesis that fol- lows hard upon our sin of excessijfe haste. In the hush about death-beds, on which manhood's strength and woman's grace lie prematurely sacrificed by the insatiate spirit of feverish toil, we may hear the poet-voice, rising into a prophet- voice, saying : — I a04 Th* Aim of Life. « O earth, so fuU of dreary notoM I O men, with wailing in your voice* t O delvM gold, the wallers heap I O strife, O curse, that o'er it fall I God strikes a silence through you all, And giveth His beloved sleep." Slowly we learn the lesson that haste makes waste, of life as well as of materials. Men may build a pasteboard house in a day; but they cannot rear the solid structure that bids defiance to time, or shape the strong character that re- sists the pressure of trial, save as they are wil- ling to use time in some such way as God uses it in evolving from an acorn the gigantic and invincible oak. It is poor economy to give scant time to lay- ing ioundations. Many a young man irremedi- ably mars his life by haste in assuming his life's work. One wishes to be a lawyer, and is eager to begin his chosen career. He will not go to college, for that takes time; h«nce he enters upon a noble and arduous calling with faculties undisciplined by vigorous pre- paratory training, and, in time, develops into a small pettifogger, or rises into power and emi- nence after years of toil with the conscious- ness that he has been hampered through all his course by want of broad and solid preparation. Another wishes to be a physician, another a haste makes i. Men may ly; but they bids defiance acter that re- they are wil- / as God uses gigantic and »t time to lay- man irremedi- assuming his a lawyer, and •eer. He will s time; hence 'duous calling vigorous pre- levelops into a lower and emi- the conscious- through all his id preparation. ;ian, another a Saving Time. *05 merchant, another a journalist ; too young to choose wisely, and with fathers too busy to choose wisely for them, these callow youths waste not only time, but much besides, because of their haste to begin work for which they are not fit. Green lumber shrinks, and, put into the house before it is seasoned, leaves gaping cracks to mar the beauty and lessen the strength of the building. Untempered mortar in the hastily built wall necessitates unceasing and expensive repairs, or insures speedy decay and ruin. Learn this lesson well, that time spent in seasoning and fitting yourselves for the serious business of life is not time wasted, but time saved. If you are called to the ministry of religion heed the call; but remember that the call is first to careful and ample preparation. If you are called to teach, take time to make your- self capable to teach out of the fulness r even later ; he necessary work; mean- strength in r which they ) a state of inefficiency, your specific • energies on / by doing to- y. Each day r doing good. Saving Time. 207 Procrastination is the thief of power and hap- piness as well as of time. Here, at your side and mine, are needs that appeal for such min- istry as we can give. Now is always "the acceptable time." Heal the hurts of to-day, and save to-morrow's pain. Speak the true, kind word to-day, and save to-morrow's regret when ears deaf with death cannot receive the tardy tribute of appreciation and sympathy. Bestow your charities now, when with them will go, to enhance their value, the force of your personal interest and influence; men often plan to make large benefactions when they are dead, and waste the opportunity of making richer gifts while they live. The dead hand may scatter gold, but the living hand scatters with the gold that which is of greater worth. We shall save time by cultivating, not only a higher estimate of present opportunities and duties, but also a warmer and more generous appreciation of present companionship. Too often we prize our fellows only when they are gone. Death lays his finger on the lips of captious criticism, and opens the eyes to previously unseen or only half-seen virtues. How true it is that we really know those about us only after they have left our side and passed beyond the -reach of ( i;oii>!. Tht Aim of Lift. our praise or blame! Many a true heart is chilled by neglect; many a willing hand is paralyzed by want of quick and sympathetic cottpcration. We look into each other's faces and see little of what is going on in the soul. The bravest and best often are least demon- strative and least given to complaining; and eyes that meet our gaze calmly, and with no tell-tale shadow of reproach or appeal, weep inwardly tears of bitter grief and unutterable longing for a little human sympathy to-day. As soldiers die side by side in battle, each unconscious of the other's sharp agony, so often men toil and strive within hand's reach of each other, and know not each other's pain. It is just that we should love and honor the dead, but it is not less just that we should love and honor the living. Is there some inexora- ble law that we should not be generous, or even fairly just, to our brothers and sisters while they are within the sound of our voices? Is death the only solvent that can effectually reduce the barriers which ignorance and selfishness, or the paltry conventionalities of society, build up between us? How often a fainting heart would have been inspired to fresh courage and hope by words that remained unspoken till the mute appeal from a coffin unlocked reluctant , true heart it illing hand it d lympathetic h other' t facet on in the soul. e least demon- nplaining; and yr, and with no r appeal, weep ind unutterable tnpathy to-day. in battle, each harp agony, so n hand's reach ch other's pain. and honor the : we should love ; some inexora- enerous, or even isters while they •ices? Is death ually reduce the selfishness, or I society, build a fainting heart esh courage and mspoken till the locked reluctant Saving Time. 909 lips. Oh, my friends, seize this moment to speak he word uf comfort, the word of hope, the word of appreciation and praise! Save time by doing now the thing that ought to be done now. If you have wronged any one, right the wrong to-day; if you have sinned, repent to-day; if you are impelled to reach out for divine help, yield to the impulse now; if you are conscious that Christ calls you to a larger service of your fellow-men, hear him now. Do the duty that liet next. Delay is time lost; action is time saved and life saved. After all, this whole question of how to save time is rightly answered by rightly answering the question. Whose is your time? Who gives it to you? Who has an indefeasible claim to its entire use? The recognition of God's claim is the first condition of the true economy of time. " Speak to Him thou, for He heaw, and spirit with tplrit can Closer is He than Iveathing, aad aearer than hands and feet. 14 .*«»,- CHARITY. .1-' i:W' D,D universal Charity prevaU. Earth would be an heaven, and heU a fable. — Colton. YOU will find people ready enoujj to do the Samantan without the oa and two-pence— Sidney Smith. A Tuscan coast-guard reported to his government that ♦hll^JbUSThSentaHe shipwreck on the coast, and he there had uewi » •*" ^^^ „ew on board the Mid, "Notwithstanding »>»»» V*^* *^^*^«rf „y .peaking- ttponVhe shore next mommg. dead. -Anonymous. %he highest exercise of charity is charity toward, the «„chariuble.-BucKM«^... ^^^^^^^^^ — Hbbbert. , GEORGE Eliot. judge not ;... • What looks to thy dim eye a stain, In God's pure light may only be A scar brought from some *««''<« »*'°' 1* _i»u »v. tnnirues of men and of angels, Charity. 211 uld be an heaven, Jo the Samaritan Smith. government that the coast, and he crew on board the of my speaking-- lodies were washed mymous. karity towards the e bridge over which teed to be forgiven. I come. It Is never ut our severity.— astsdn, f be rell-won field, int and yield. Vdelaidb Proctor. men and (rf angels, sounding brass, or a he gift (rf prophecy* >wledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity suffereth long, and is kind ; charity envieth not ; charity vaunteth not it- self, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seek- eth not its own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rajoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth ; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth. .... And now aUdeth faith, hope, charity, these three ; but the greatest of these is charity. — Saint Paul. 'T'HE word rendered " charity " in that mar- vellous prose idyl, the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians, is the Greek offdirri, which means love. The Vulgate, or early Latin Ver- sion of the New Testament, rendered drfdtni by caritas. This word, meaning " dearness, expen- siveness," and then " esteem, high regard," and even " love," reappears in our English " char- ity." Caritas, or Charitas as it is sometimes spelled, is not a true equivalent of arfdirri, but the Latin amor, " love," had sensual uses and associations, surviving in our word " amorous," that utterly unfitted it for expressing the spirit- ual idea which underlies dydw^ in New Testa- ment Greek. This is the reason why caritas in the Latin Version, and " charity " in the English Version were used to translate a word which means love in its highest and holieiit sense. The Revised Version of the English Bible accu- i ; The Aim of Life. rately renders the original, thus: ' " J «P«»^ with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am become soundmg brass, or a clanging cymbal. . . . Love suffereth long and is kind Love never faileth. etc. The deep spiritual truth that Jesus taught by word and deed, and that humanity is slowly but surely learning, is this: Lave never fatUtlu It has perpetuity because it is imperishable. He who truly loves is akin to God. Saint John said : "Every one that loveth is born of God jmd knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love." The capacity for holy love is the clearest inward witness of mans immortality; that which is of God cannot dj=, and the spirit that loves participates m God» eternal being. . But we are to consider now a special aspect and manifestation of love; we are to think of love practically working in our every day rettK tions with our fctk>w-men. - our opinions of them, our speech to them, and our deeds a* affecting their condition and characters. i cannot do better at the outset than to com- ment freely on the remarkable character^ atioft of love, or charity, which Saint Paul has gtven us in the seventh verse of the thirteenth chajK tcr of Ftfst Corinthtans: '^Charity beareth »tt Charity. Ill i: "If I speak ngels, but have ing brass, or a fereth long and " etc. Jesus taught by ity is slowly but ever failetlu It perishable. He Saint John said: rn of God and [»ot knoweth not apacity for holy itness of man's God cannot die, cipates in God'» a special aspect are to think of r every day rel*- our opinions of nd our deeds as I characters. I jet than to coni- e characteriaatioft nt Paul has given e thirteenth chap- harity bearcth alt things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things." I. Charity beareth all things. The word " bear," is the Greek verb, «rTey», which means "to cover." The noun, «rr^ means "a roof," "* covering" and often, "a room or tent" We find the verb used in classic Greek in the sense of " to cover or conceal," and to " fend off," and even " to bear up, sustain, support" Taking the word, then, in its fully developed significance, we see that the phrase, " Charity beareth all things |^ means, " Charity covers, protects, and supports." Charity is something more than a benevolent disposition to supply the temporal needs of men; though it certainly is that, for it is love expressing itself in helpful action. Christ and the apostles inculcate love of man conjointly with love of God ; but in many minds these are equally vague and weak, because they have been separated from each other, and because they have been separated from action ; thus, love of man has remained only a sentiment instead of devek>ping into passionful purpose. In our benevolent moods we fancy that we love all men; we are ready to exclaim with Terence: ** I am a man, and I count nothing hmnan for- eign to me." But when we are compelled by the exigencies of life to particularuie, to coo- a 14 The Aim of Life, gider some concrete individual, as John Jones or Richard Smith, we discover that we are very far from realizing our sentiment in a practical way; our sentiment proves to be only senti- mentality. It is said that once Eugene Sue was met in the streets of Paris by a woman m tattered clothes, who asked help in her poverty. Sue refused to give anything, and attempted to continue his walk, but the woman stopped him, and with piteous importunity renewed her request; again her prayer, was denied, and this time roughly. Still she persisted, and Sue, turning angrily upon her, bade her begone, or he would give her over to the police ; then the woman, dropping her suppliant tone, demanded in stem and impressive speech, if this was really Eugene Sue, the celebrated advocate of the poor and oppressed, the man who sa eloquently described and sympatheti- cally lamented in his books the hard lot of the outcast and unfortunate. Astonished both at the tone and polished directness of the woman's speech, the great author asked: "Who are you ? " She replied, " Madame ," naming one of the most fashionable ladies in Paris, and one to whom Sue had boasted of his benevo- lence, and suddenly left him stunned and conscience-smitten on the sti:eet. Charity. 215 IS John Jones at we are very in a practical >e only senti- \ Eugene Sue )y a woman in , n her poverty. and attempted roman stopped unity renewed r. was denied, she persisted, her, bade her ;r to the police ; suppliant tone, sive speech, if the celebrated essed, the man nd sympatheti- hard lot of the mished both at of the woman's ed : " Who are : ."naming es in Paris, and of his benevo- 1 stunned and et. . It is easy to be philanthropic in speech, to weep in books over the sorrows of the world, to be generous and sympathetic on paper; but a real love of humanity, such as Jesus taught and illustrated, involves a practical charity that is ready to express itself in deeds as well as words when confronted by concrete cases of human need. " If a brother or sister be naked, and in lack of daily food, and one of you say to them. Go in peace, be wanned, and be filled, but ye give them not the things needful for the body, what does it profit?" Charity, like faith, if it has not works, is dead. But the truly charitable man not only sup- plies the wants of his fellow-men, he also bears with their weaknesses and faults. Love is blind, wisely and tenderly blind ; it covers up the sins of others instead of eagerly seeking them out. The good man throws a mantle of charity over many a folly and transgression; he penetrates to the soul beneath the sin, and, in a divine love for that, shields instead of condemns the sinner. There is a vicious tendency in some natures to seek out and to advertise evil ; this is one of the most damning evidences of human degen* eracy and depravity, — this appetite for bad- ness. The cynic and the scandal-monger are 3i6 The Aim of Life. open-eyed for the defects and misdeeds of others; they are always on the watch for some flaw in speech or conduct; they prophesy evil of their neighbors, and under an air of simu- ' lated deprecation and sadness disclose a revolt- ing exultation over a fall. "I am sorry," j they will say, " but I expected it. I knew that woman was no better than she ought to be; I always thought that man was unsound." Many who do not hunt for faults in others are quick in condemnation when faults are exposed, hav- ing no defensive, no pitying word to speak for the ill-doer. As famished wolves are said to «et upon an injured companion and devoui- him, «>, often, men and women show a wolfish dis- position toward those whom temptation has overtsdcen and thrown. Over against this unnatural-natural disposi- tion the New Testament sets the charity that bears all things, that is slow to detect a fault, that hastens to shield it from the gaie of harsh criticism, that defends the wrong-doer till mercy shall exhaust itself in seeking his recovery before " justice" lets loose his thunder- bolts of penalty. This charity is not indiffer- ence to distinctions between right and wrong; indeed there is no guaranty of a sensitive con- science and a clear moral judgment so strong 4 Charity. 217 misdeeds of sitch for some prophesy evil air of simu- ' close a revolt- I am sorry," I knew that ught to be; I 4)und." Many lers are quick exposed, hav- d to speak for 'es are said to nd devoui' him, r a wolfish dis- emptation has atural disposi- lie charity that detect a fault, e gaze of harsh rrong-doer till fi seeking his 3se his thunder> is not indi£FeF- ght and wrong; a sensitive con- ;ment so strong as a deep and tender heart. God is unerringly just because He is perfectly good. Nor is charity a weak indulgence toward sin. The cynic will tell you that the man who is gentle with the faults of others only seeks to forestall judgment against his own; but the contrary is true. No man is so faithfully severe toward himself as he who is most tender toward the failings of others ; the Pharisee "hurls the contumelious stone," and is blind to his own defects. It is of the nature of true love that it cannot be put out of countenance or thrust aside from its sweet intention by any show or force of opposing evil. Jesus could die on the cross, but he could not be scourged or buffeted or maligned out of his steadfast love for human souls; and those who most closely follow him are most obstinate and invincible in sheer goodness. It was on the cross that Jesus won his chief qualification for his divine function of Judge of the world. 2. Clumty helievetk all things. This does not mean that love is weakly credulous; but rather that it is not shrewdly suspicious. It believes in goodness; and because evil is always more obtrusive than good, as pain is always more obtrusive than pleasure, has confi- •^ A \ 4 -.1 m 3l8 TAe Aim of Life, dence in the existence of good even beneath manifest evil. The charitable heart is slow to credit evidence of guilt. While a selfish spirit is quick to detect or to assume badness in con- duct and to impute bad motives, the loving spirit is quick to impute right impulses and to discern the obscured good which often under- lies seeming perversity of conduct. Love believes in God, and it believes in man, — not blindly and foolishly, but with the sure instinct for goodness, and the radical conviction that righteousness is more vital and powerful than unrighteousness. No one can keep his faith in God who loses a generous faith in humil- ity; for humanity, despite its imperfections and its grievous falls, came from God, is the expression of the divine love, and the object and sphere of the divine redemptive purpose. When Jesus said to his disciples "Believe in God, and believe in me," it was as if he said: "Believe in divinity, and believe also in the ideal humanity, for these two are one." . It is not then an undisceming credulousness that is expressed in the words: " Charity believeth all things," but a large faith in that possibility of goodness which is in every human soul. True charity is the spirit in a man which makes him say, when he sees a fellow-man >d even beneath heart is slow to le a selfish spirit badness in con- ives, the loving impulses and to ich often under- conduct. Love es in man, — not the sure instinct 1 conviction that id powerful than n keep his faith faith in humsui* its imperfections from God, is the e, and the object lemptive purpose. :iples " Believe in was as if he said : elieve also in the > are one." ling credulousness words: " Charity large faith in that t is in every human irit in a man which sees a fellow«man Charity, 19 buffeted by many trials, and struggling in the toils of temptation, or even falling into grievous error and fault: "I believe in that man ; I am sure he would rather be right than wrong. I will help him and do him good." Selfishness has coined the hateful maxim: " Count every man a rogue until he is proved honest." That may be "worldly wisdom," but it is of the Devil, the slanderer, as diabohs means. Charity says, rather, "Count every man a brother, believe in him, and overcome evil with good. " 3. Charity hopeth all things. It is not only generously trustful and patient with respect to the present, but it is also cordially hopeful with respect to the future. Love :s the true optimist. It steadily believes in the reality of goodness amid all the contradictions of present experience, and it is joyfully and bravely expectant of the clear vindication and triumph of goodness in the time to come. It has hope in God, and therefore it has hope for God's creatures. •• My own hope it, a ran wiU pierce The thickest cloud earth ever stretched; That, after Last, returns the First, Though a wide compass round be fetched ; That what began best, can't end worst; Nor what God blessed once, prove accurst." \ ,,0 The Aim of Life, This hope is not vaguely general, —a nebu- lous confidence in the progress of the race toward a golden age of righteousness and peace. It is particular; it individualises its objects. The man in whom charity has bjcome a pervasive temper is hopeful with respect to humanity at large; but he is hopeful also with respect to individual men and women whom he knows. - hopeful that the erring wiU see the error of their ways and turn to the right ; hope- ful that the weak. will become strong; hopeful that the bad will at last come out.of their bad- aess into the wisdom and health and beauty of holiness. Love devclofi in one a personal interest in the experiences and the POM^bili- ^ ties of others; it interweaves his life witft theirs, and brings the real oneness of mankind into consciousness so that it ceases to be an abstraction serviceable merely to speculative philanthmpists. and becomes a vital element in all his r'anking, feeling, and action, ihe hope which the Christian man cherishes for himself he cherishes for others also; and this hope becomes a formative influence in his life. It remedies the narrowness of his formal creed; it affects his opinions of men» freeing those opinions from injustice and bitterness; it jnits warmth and helpfulness into his words; and it Charity, til ral, — a nebu- of the race teousness and ividualiKcs its ity has b^ome irith respect to peful also with omen whom he ig will see the he right ; hope- strong; hopeful ut.of their bad- h and beauty of one a personal d the possibili- s his life with ness of mankind ceases to be an |r to speculative a vital element ,nd action. The in ch«-ishes for -s also; and this iience in his life, [lis formal creed ; n, freeing those itterness; it puts lis words; and it impels to actions that work incessantly toward the realization of his hope by making men better, wiser, and happier. When the world says of the fallen soul, " He is gone; nothing can be done for him; let him go," love says: "No; there is hope, for there is life, and there is God ; I believe in God the Father Almighty." Pagan peoples used to expose to death the weak and helpless — for example, sickly infants, and sometimes the aged — as unprofitable burdens to be got rid of as soon as possible. The world is still pagan, except as it has been penetrated and transformed by the spirit of Jesus Christ. The weak often are pushed to the wall; they are pitilessly thrown aside to sink and perish. Sometimes you hear it said : " That man is not worth saving." But love has hope for even the lost, and in heroic, divine contradiction of the world's dogmatic cynicism, it seeks just those who are lowest, and bears, believes, and hopes for them. 4. Chanty endureth all things. In these words is expressed the unconquerable patience of love. When all else is gone, this is a for- tress in which it abides. When it can no longer eover and shield; when seemingly it is denied the possibility erf belief, and cannot 333 Thi Aim of Lift. even hope save by a desperate tour-dt-forct, — then it endures, holding fast its sweetness of spirit, and continuing in gentle strength to the end. No one has learned what patience is until he has learned to love in some such way as God loves. In love is the secret of God's long-suffering. But enduring all things does not by any means necessarily imply loss of belief and hope with reference to love's object; it is rather the result and culmination of believing all things and hoping all things. When the heart believes and hopes it can endure. The endurance of love is no grim and stoical quality. It is a patience full of brightness; it is a fortitude, the strength of which lies in the very depth of the heart's tenderness. The love that bears and covers faults and offences, also bears with them, — puts up with that which is disagreeable and troublesome, and is in no way diverted from its good intention by the obstruction of things unlovely and evil. This is, perhaps, the very highest quality of character, — the charity that endures. A man may be upright and yet be overcome by the ills of life. The vices and fiuthlessness of his fellow-men may drive him into harshness of temper and bitterness of speech ; but the man ■Wi— I— g^ t, ^ur-de-forct, — 1 sweetness of strength to the at patience is tome such way ecret of God's ;s not by any belief and hope :; it is rather : believing all iVhen the heart B. ;rim and stoical : brightness; it hich lies in the idemess. The ts and offences, up with that blesome, and is )d intention by vely and evil, highest quality lat endures. A be overcome by fiuthlessness of nto harshness of :h ; but the man Charity. 32$ whose uprightness is the vertebral column of a robust and beautiful charity is invincible in goodness. But lest we seem to be dealing with fair but impracticable abstractions, let us consider the theme from a personal and practical point of view. Charity is something to exemplify in conduct, not something about which to specu> late and theorize. We come in daily contact with all sorts of people who have all sorts of dispositions and opinions. We frequently en- counter people who weary or irritate or disgust us. The reason of their effect on us may lie partly in ourselves as well as in them; but, assuming that the fault is wholly or even mainly theirs, we can live with them, or near them, in any comfortable or wholesome way, only by fortifying ourselves with a strong and elastic charity. As it is, we often suffer and inflict many ugly raspings. The seeds of ani- mosities and strifes, of contempts and hatreds, fly in the air; wherever they find a congenial soil, which they always do in the selfish heart, they take root and, like weeds, grow without cultivation. Only love can quench the bad life of these, and fill their places with the flowers of courtesy and kindliness. If we take account only'of the opinions and mental habits of men, idmU^tM&M^'iiSBA. .« tf4 The Aim of Life. r we find abundant scope for the exercise of for- bearance. Often a difference of opinion on some question of mere theory will thrust sharp enmity between two minds. If we think our- selves right we cannot see that he who dis- agrees with us may also be right; he must be wrong; and so the assertion and defence of our personal opinion are sublimed into a vindication of truth, and the other mans divergence front our view becomes the measure of Iiis diver- gence from the truth. Thus differences grow into antagonisms and strifes, where, possibly, both disputants are mistaken, or are simply looking at a subject from different points of view, like the knights in the fable. One declared that a shield which hung between them was gold; the other asserted that it was iilver. After their debate had ripened into a combat, in which each received damaging blows, they discovered that the shield was gold on one side and silver on the other; both were fight and both were wrong in their affirma- tions ; both were entirely wrong in their spirit. The charitable man, while holding fast his convictions, holds them always subject to the revision which fuller knowledge may demand, and he respects the convictions of others, while be is patient with their faults and tender toward ?m m aemiimimm i/f. exercise of for- of opinion on vill thrust sharp f we think our^- lat he who dis- jht ; he must be 'id defence of our nto a vindication divergence front re of his diver- differences grow where, possibly, or are simply ferent points oi :he fable. One I hung between lerted that it was ad ripened into a :eived damaging e shield was gold other; both were in their affirma- ng in their spirit, holding fast his ys subject to the dge may demand, ts of others, while and tender toward Charity. %2l their mistakes. His heart does not go down into the arena of debate, but spreads its broad mantle of toleration over all differences of belief. We are not to condone wickedness or disregard the sanctities of truth, for righteous* ness and truth are infinitely important; but we should be charitable to those whom we consider in error. Love always discriminates between the thought and the thinker; Calvin may condemn the heresy of Servetus, but he may not guiltlessly burn Servetus at the stake, nor even think vengefully of hira. A true charity also qualifies our opinion of other men's characters. If we have a right spirit we shall be slow to think evil of our fel- low-men ; and we shall be gentle toward their foibles, not making a mock of them and fasten- ing upon them the stigma of our ridicule and scorn. We shall be slow to impute evil mo- tives; and we shall take account of weakness and withhold condemnation. That is a noble counsel of the apostle's; take it for a motto: "Be swift to hear; slow to speak; slow to wrath." That describes the true judicial tem- per and attitude. Jesus said : " It is better to save life than to destroy;" these words have a far wider range of application than perhaps we have thought. You may kill with a word The Aim of Life. w well as with a bullet; and the slaying of hope or of courage in a brother's heart may be a more grievous murder than smiting the life out of the body. Few of us appreciate the tremendous influence on those about us of our opinions and speech concerning them. What we think of children who are in any way under our influence, and what we say about them, often determine the moral tendency of their lives. Even in maturer years many are so susceptible to this influence that they are lifted up or cast down by a little talk. Many a young man, fighting his way against heavy odds, has won a victory by the force of some one's faith in him. Who has not felt all his better nature roused and invigorated by the thought: "Some one has confidence in me; some one cares for me; some one thinks I can be true and good. I doubt not that many a man is in a convict s cell to-night, or in his grave, for want of some such word, for want of that charity toward him which suffereth long and is kind; which beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. But charity should rule action as well as speech. An unkind deed is a wicked deed, and often a horribly harmful deed; nay, there is even an element of baseness and cowardli- e. the slaying of s heart may be miting the life appreciate the ibout us of our them. What any way under >out them, often of their lives, e so susceptible ifted up or cast a young man, odds, has won a e's faith in him^. ;r nature roused ht: "Some one ne cares for me; and good." [ is in a convict's For want of some : charity toward [ is kind; which 11 things, hopeth tion as well as a wicked deed, deed; nay, there !ss and cowardli- gg Charity^ 227 ness in unkind action. The really brave man is never cruel ; for bravery is far more than physical courage, it is moral, and has in it a heart of womanly tenderness. There are many men who have so great a scorn of effeminacy that they forget the truth that manliness and strength and bravery are most highly devel> oped only in the soul that is fullest of love. Young men are rather apt to confound gen- tleness with weakness; and sometimes are ashamed to be kind lest they seem lacking in manly force and fibre. Let them remember that the gentleman is the gentU man. There is profound truth in Thomas Dekker's charac- terization of Jesus Christ as " Hie firat true gentleman that ever breathed. ** It is ever ^ defect of charity that makes the strong cruel, and the fearless brutaL There is little room for any pure virtue where love is not, for love in its highest development is the sum of all virtues. It is a pertinent question, especially at this time when we stand on the threshold of a new year: What is our daily habit of speech and conduct with respect to our fellow-creatures? There is no doubt that the answer tQ this ques- tion will have large place in the final judgment Wm Hiiiiiliiiiii The Aim of Life. on our lives; for by so much as we have m our hearts a true love of man, have we a true love of God. RccaU Leigh Hunt's beautiful lines : — « Abou Ben Adhem (may Ms tribe tociewe I) j Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace. And saw within the moonlight in hte room, Biaking it rich and Uke a Uly in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold. And to the presence in the room he «id. 'What writest thou ? '-The vision raised its head. And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered,-* The names of those who love the Lord. • And is mine one?' said Abou; • Nay, not so, Replied the angel. - Abou spake more low. But cheerly still ; and said, • I pray thee, then. Write me as one that loves his fettownnen. The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night He came again, with a great '«^«^"?^. . m^_ And showed their name, whom love of God had West- And, to I Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. An apostle wrote: " He that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, cannot love God whom he hath not seen I And this command- ment have we from Him, that he who loveth God love his brother also." There is no true love of God apart from true love of man; and " we only thing opposed to love of God is love of self." or selfishness.. This is in essence the as we have in have we a true tlunt's beautiful ») i 1 of peace, room, m, lembold, ■aid, ndaed its head, accord, rho love the Lord.' ay, not so,' ore low, thee, then, w-men.' lie next night ing light, e ROE Macdona^. £:f„^;^ov'StXral«i-U--t every twenty. ;o«rho«i.-THKOi«R.T.Mu«o.R. byany. — Saint Paul. THE early, though now nearly obsolete, meaning of amusement was deep thought, mentation, revery." Whatever ^ccu- pied'or deeply engaged the mind was said^to amuse the mind. -for example, m an old Eng H^h book I find the following: " Here I put my pen into the inkstand and fell intoa strong and E«®!SM^*:»<«WElWr, •"rW^ndemnation of id equal harm, hand by laxity om a want of rong conviction, ifying question ertain principles Ithily divert the rue amusement ; «vil is not true ^ excessive, and not true amuse- orally indifferent harmful to j'w, is It. The harmful- ecause of peculiar e amusement has oral tone, wound- ind hindering the inciples of exclu- ►n this subject are ; the Procrustean uel. Jesus Christ, hies that the world Ethics of Amustnnnt. 235 has ever seen, did not give rules for the gov- ernment of life. The Pharisees did that ; the Pharisees do it still. But Jesus gave principles, and these principles he imparted in a spirit of life rather than in specific precepts ; the few precepts which he did give are only particular applications of the fundamental principles of the spirit of life. Life is the true guide of life. The spirit and point of view of Jesus serve us better than any system of rules, for these are radical and under- lie all right conduct The highest principle of life, the principle which Jesus gives us In his spirit and point of view, is the principle of love : "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." I say nothing now about the preceding word : " Thou shalt love God with all thy heart," for in essence these two are one. Love of God and love of man are indivisible in fact, how- ever widely we may have separated them in our theories; sometimes, alas, they are made theoretically oppugnant, almost mutually ex- clusive. "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thsrself:" here is the spring of all sound and sufficient ethical principles. There is a true self-love that is not only perfectly accordant with a true love of our neighbor, but is also its norm. 9S6 The Aim of Lift. m- Under this general principle of love, the ethi- cal character of amuaements is determined:— I By tkttffect of amusements OH stlf. Amuse- ment. being not strictly an end but a means, in order to be ethically sound, that is right, ought to have the effect on ourselves of wholesome diversion and rest. It ought to refresh our minds and bodies, restore the disturbed balance of our powers, and leave us toned up for the best kind of life. It should minister, in this way, to the best that is in us: it should make easier our best work. Lest I seem to give too positive and high a function to amusement, let me say that, at least, it must not have an effect contrary to that which I have described ; it must not. while relaxing the tension, let down the essen- tial tone of our minds to a low level ; it must not hurt or debase our finer sensibilities. It must not cheapen duty, nor wound our consciences, nor lessen our taste for the good and the true ; it must not render us any less sensitive to spiritual influences, nor cloud the vision of the inner eye. Of course any sort of diversion that harma us physically should be rigorously excluded. But many are prompt to recognize the truth of this statement, who do not as quickly and as profoundly appreciate the importance of guard- ing our higher nature from hurtful invasion. fi. . ►f love, the ethl- determined : — 0Hi€lf, Amuse- but a means, in is right, ought i of wholesome to refresh our iisturbed balance >d up for the best ter, in this way, ould make easier give too positive sment, let me say an effect contrary ted ; it must not. : down the essen- level ; it must not ibilities. It must d our consciences, od and the true ; it msitive to spiritual n of the inner eye. ersion that harms orously excluded, cognize the truth : as quickly and as portance of guard- hurtful invasion. Ethics of Amusement. 337 We ought always to keep in mind the true values of life. Always the spiritual should dominate the physical; the higher is meant to give the law to the lower. This is not to assent for a moment to the old Manichean error that the body is evil, and that holiness consists chiefly if not solely in crushing down and eradicating all the instincts and impulses which have their seat and source in the flesh. From the ideal point of view, which is ever the true spiritual point of view, Browning is right when he exclaims, — " All good things Are oura, nor (otil helps flesh more Now than flesh helps soul I " But in our slow emergence from the animal, which is the bestial and selfish, we need con- tinually to be on our guard that the nascent and delicate life of the spirit be not choked and suppressed by the flesh. Enjoyment of mirth and pleasure is an inci- dent and accompaniment of life, not its end ; a needed interruption of strenuous toil, not its object. As "the life is more than meat and the body than raiment," so the play and frolic of our leisure hours are to wait upon and be subservient to the great aims and aspirations and endeavors of the soul. in 238 The Aim of Life. It should be clearly understood that amuse- ment, by the refreshment which it brings, is meant to lessen the friction of labor, not to usurp the place of labor; and, therefore, if amusement in any way hinders high thought, or brings any taint of impurity into the mind, or hurts the spirit, indulgence in it is a wrong done to self. The noble self-regard of love condemns it. and the wisdom of love excludes it. The ethical character of amusements is determined : — 2 By the effect of our amusements on others. Our diversion must work no ill to our neigh- bors; here love is imperative. That which amuses me, but at the same time does harm to some one else, by its very harmfulness to him becomes unlawful to me. To indulge self at another's expense violates the supreme law of love. The application of this principle is very wide There is need here of careful and dis- criminating thought, for the application of the principle must be made, for the most i»rt. by Lh one for himself. On the mere physical plane it is easy to see that amusement which causes material damage, or even annoyance, to our neighbor ought to be abandoned. Indeed, on this plane our neighbor has protection and redress afforded him by the laws of the land, t> Ut... .jitWWHl ■i'.W'*>Lii»,'n"' f «f.t^':V.-:--^«r' (ww.waeiwrr'sr ■ — mfiiffiiff- --'i -^ \/e. od that amuse- it brings, is I labor, not to id, therefore, if s high thought, r into the mind, in it is a wrong f-regard of love love excludes it. amusements is emeHts on others. ill to our neigh- «re. That which ime does harm to rmfulness to him b indulge self at e supreme law of \ principle is very f careful and dis- application of the the most part, by ;he mere physical amusement which (Ten annoyance, to ndoned. Indeed, las protection and laws of the land, Ethics of Amusement. 339 at least within certain large limits. But the worst damage which by our selfishness we inflict upon others is not material. It is an evil thing to maim a brother in body, or to injure his possessions ; but this sort of harm is trifling compared with the harm we may do to the mind or feelings or spiritual life of our brother. There is no human legislation which covers the wide field of our deeper moral rela- tions. There is no effective protection of men from our strongest and subtlest influence, sav^ that which itself is spiritual, — either the im- pregnable character of others, or our own strong and clear-sighted self-restraint. Saint Paul once said, " We then that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves." It is a noble sentiment, springing from the very heart of Christ ; it is the same as, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." And the self -regulation which this sentiment imposes is not put upon us from without ; its great merit lies in the fact that it rises spontaneously in the loving and chastened heart. It is not an external law that you shall not cause your brother to stumble by doing that which, pleasant and harmless for yourself, is yet, because of bis weakness, harmful to him ; it is the mandate of love in your heart. II a40 The Aim of Life. — that love which can joyfully suppress self for the sake of conferring a benefit on another or warding from him a danger. A fine example of what I mean, and one that is well known, though it is often misinterpreted and misap- plied, is that furnished by Saint Paul, where he says: "If eating meat cause my brother to stumble," — that is, if my eating food which has been consecrated to idols (a thing wholly unimportant and harmless to me) cause my brother, not yet freed from superstition, to do the same thing, thereby wounding his weak conscience and letting him down on a plane where he is sure to fall into real sin, — if my eating meat cause this damage to my brother, " I will eat no meat while the world stands." This is the language and act of heroic unselfishness, in the exercise of which one tastes a pleasure such as no coveted indulgence can give. " I can afford," says the true soul, -to forego this or that gratification of my appetites; but I cannot afford to burden or wound a brother in his struggle upward into the life of the spirit." Now, apply this principle to the matter of amusements. It is high ground for us to occupy; but we ought to be unwilling to take any lower ground. When we have attained to . ^- ,^v**«W*WW<**«rW.- 'w mmr f-':- i/e. ly suppress self nefit on another A fine example is well known, ;ted and misap- lint Paul, where se my brother to ting food which , (a thing wholly ) me) cause my iperstition, to do inding his weak iown on a plane eal sin, — if my ;e to my brother, le world stands." act of heroic \e of which one tveted indulgence ys the true soul, itification of my ird to burden or ggle upward into to the matter of round for us to unwilling to take e have attained to Ethics of Amusement. 241 a nobler manhood and womanhood, we shall be incapable of taking any lower ground. The principle which I have been setting forth often is misapplied and abused. That increases the difficulty of truly applying the principle, perhaps ; but the difficulty must not defeat our purpose to live in accordance with its lofty morality. Often assumed weakness is nothing more than contentiousness and censoriousness ; often the " weak " brother who demands the application of this principle in his own behalf is in need of sharp discipline rather than of concession to his demands. He is, in the moral realm, what the "dead beat" is in the economic realm ; he raises a false issue and sets up a false standard of judgment. Saint Paul's words have been used some- times as a justification of a kind of moral med- dlesomeness which masquerades under the garb of zeal for moral reform. The apostle encoun- tered it, and roundly rebuked it with the words : "Who art thou that judgest thy brother? To his own Master he standeth or falleth." We encounter it still, with a miserable perversion of Saint Paul's words in its mouth. Never mind; the principle of self-denial for another's sake is sound and wise and beneficen>. It is the principle of love, which is the principle of 16 'Jmm 242 The Aim of Life. Christ and is, at bottom, the principle of Sarright'eousness. Get the P-^P ^ clearly apprehended in your minds and deeply rocked in your hearts, and the app icat.on of ^ to spec fie cases will be as instinctive as breaA- iLand as unerring as human action evens There is wide scope for pure and refreshing amusement No one's real liberty is abridged bv Zr for what love clearly forbids belongs lZ.^\r. not of liberty, but of bondage - the bondage of selfishness. The right course s to have nothing to do with any amusements wWch. by the weakness of those about you. are made harmful to their best life. "These principles which of necessity are here stated so briefly, and which t^"e is not spice now more fully to ill«.t,ate. um^h the L and sufficient ethical test of all kinds o amusement. There is no rule, and no «et ^* rules by which we can determine off-hand the Sfulness or wrongfulness of any specific amusements that in themselves are not mtm^ sicallv evil. Such as are intrinsically evil are notof course, true amusements, and he out^ Sof our present field of d«^«f <>«-_.^"V what of games, dancing, and play-going? These :^d many otier sorts of f version In vogue ^ong men cannot be. with any justice, cate- .f^tehpBB'WWW****'^ ■ " ..:,.,rimti^^^i^4i-»msi ptuum^illt!' mm le principle of the principle inds and deeply application of it nctive as breath- action ever is. eand refreshing jerty is abridged - forbids belongs ut of bondage, — The right course any amusements those about you, »t life. of necessity, are rhich there is not strate, furnish the Mt of all kinds of ule, and no set of rmine off-hand the ss of any specific Ives are not intrin- itrinsically evil are Dents, and lie out- f discussion. But play-going? These diversion in vogue h any justice, cate- Ethics of Amusemeni. 843 gorically pronounced right or wrong. They may be innocent, or they may be noxious, according to time, circumstance, and individual conditions. Whether they are innocent or noxious in each particular case must be deter- mined by the application of these tests, — the effect on self, and the effect on others. The effect, moreover, must not be measured only by physical or mental standards, but also by a spiritual standard. We are bound to seek the best life always, both for others and for our- selves. Whatever makes against the best life must be let alone, if we would climb upward and help upward those who are about us. There is, then, no easy, prescriptive way of settling this question of the ethical character of amusements. Many wish that there were such a way. To those it would be a relief to have the church or the pastor pronounce authoritatively with reference to this matter. It is easier to obey an explicit command than to determine one's course by the exercise of intelligence and judgment. Many times the question is put to the Christian minister: "May I do this? May I have that ? " Rightly, young children to a large degree must be sub- ject to authority; for a child can be trained in moral habits before he can apprehend moral - .-.ri HitM -' M 't 'nrx .-- mm 244 ^T/i* Aim of Lift. principles, and the experience and J"dpn«»' °^ parents and teachers must protect htm from evils that he can neither see nor understand. Even in the case of children the authonty «, only temporary, and is but as a fence about a growing tree until it has attamed a certain height and strength. «Thouh«t marked th.dowrtae of th.tree.-howlU .tern m "^"*th. kia-. lip. the .tag'. «.tl.r, tb«i -fdr outbiint The fan-branches all round. But prescription in morals has narrow limits. No matter how much we may wish, in moments of weakness or perplexity, to escape the neces- sity of deciding moral questions for ourselves, we cannot do so. This is the permanent "id essential condition of the moral life, that each must make decisions for himself. Seek advice from those whose knowledge and wisdom you trust; exercise a careful observation, for thus you will learn much that will be of highest value in forming your judgments; profit by the experience of others; and study and grasp the principles of right conduct which are set be- fore you in the teaching and example of Jesus Christ. All this will help you; but, after^all. you must make decisions, and the product of f. id judgment o! tec'c him from K understand. tie authority is, fence about a ined a certain tree,— how iu atem ) antler; theuiafely , narrow limits, ish, in moments icape the neces- is for ourselves, s permanent and il life, that each If. Seek advice and wisdom you rvation, for thus U be of highest nents; profit by study and grasp which are set be- example of Jesus )u-, but, after all, d the product of Ethics of Amusement. 345 decisions is character, and character is at once life and destiny. The choice of amusements, add the decisions by which indulgence in them is regulated, are as essential a part of your moral discipline in the world as the choice of your main work in life and the successive deci- sions by which you prosecute that work to its justifying end. While, then, on the question of the wrong- fulness and evil of sin, either as a diversion or as a serious engagement, there is a clear "Thus saith the Lord," as well as a clear Thus saith human experience, which is only another form of "Thus saith the Lord;" on the ques- tion of the rightness or wrongness of a specific act that in itself is morally indifferent and becomes wrong only in certain relations and under certain circumstances, there is no cate- gorical imperative. The large principle of love to God and self and fellow-man furnishes the only, but sufficient, guide to decisions which each must make for himself. It is in making these choices that the soul grows into the strength and liberty of righteousness, or sinks into the bondage and weakness of habi- tual self-indulgence. In conclusion, I offer you somfr words of counsel which, without supplying any facti- ^v^J^^sr^i&v^^-'-^-' '■ 246 The Aim of Life. tiou. authority, without gM»f V^" ^^^^^^ where you need a tonic, will, I humbly hope, Tw you in making the decisions that sho^d control your indulgence in amusement, of what- "^^l Do'not indulge in any amusements, howi- ever lawful they may seem to yo«. "^P^^ because others indulge in them. Stand on v^wown feet; learn your own weaknesses irdargers. and never be ashamed of avoidmg "at which may do you needless physica harm or which may take the fine edge off ^^^^^^ oerception. or lower the tone of your spiritual Sr Periaps another can do what you cannot io without reat risk and even actual damag. Cultivate the moral courage to think and act for yo^ self . under the high duty of mora self- p^s'e^tio; If you cannot ^--^-^^^f^ going to excess, or without leaving a shadow 5f compunction on your conscience, or without dropping down a little in your spiritual tone, t^rU'strong enough and brave eiough^o accept your limitations, and say No to the ^tat'ng invitation. K you ^^\^^^^ the theatre without having the fibre o your feeling strained or coarsened, or without hav^ W an unreal coloring and an unwhol^ome favor imparted to your life, then be brave iiiiigB******'*'*'*"*™'*'*'" liiM r you crutches [ humbly hope, ms that should ements of what^ lusements, howi- to you, simply lem. Stand on )wn weaknesses imed of avoiding iS physical harm, re off your moral oi your spiritual what you cannot n actual damage, to think and act uty of moral self- it dance without leaving a shadow lience, or without lur spiritual tone, brave enough to say " No" to the ^ou cannot go to the fibre of your d, or without hav- an unwholesome ■e, then be brave •«- -^TTT'faPJ"' "-fe''' Ei/tus of Amuiimmt. 147 enough and strong enough to turn your back on the theatre. If you cannot play certain games without being tempted to do that which would bring a blush to your cheek when you pray " Lead us not into temptation," then be brave enough and strong enough to forswear • those games, however innocent in themselves they may appear to be. These specific cases are cited here merely as representative examples. T^ . principle is, do only that, even for fun and pleasure, which you can do with entire safety to your best life. 2 Keep continually in mind that all amuse- ments which are essentially selfish are, for that very reason, to b6 rejected as evil. However attractive they may be, they are malign, and therefore, in consideration of the true ends of life, are not in any just sense legitimate. All indulgence of pleasure that is selfish is attrac- tive only to the mind that is unresponsive to the sweet attraction of pure benevolence. 3. In all things avoid excess. Most sins are sins of abuse. Excess is an immoral inver- sion of values and uses. There is a certain truth in the saying, "Ihere may be too much of a good thing." It is. more accurate to say that whatever passes the golden mean of moderation ceases to be good; the goodness tJM liii Wiiii-iifffliffi ' r 348 Thi Aim of Life. r passes out as the excess comes in. Intemper- ance is always a vice, in playing as truly as in drinking wine; and intemperance always weakens and harms its victim. An occasional visit to a clean theatre may give rest to the tired brain and refreshment to the jaded sensi- bilities. Continuous play-going, especially to the average theatre, rarely, if ever, benefits one; on the contrary, it is almost sure to deprave both mind and heart, and to destroy zest for the real, every-day life of the world. That there are exceptions to this may be taken for granted, but the exceptions are rare. The moment the line of pure refreshment and of rest, or of wholesome mental stimulus, is passed, that moment evil begins. 4. Finally, deliberately make amusement wholly subordinate to the high and noble ends of life, —to the best thought, the purest feel- ing and the worthiest work. There are many pure amusements that fortify virtue as well as divert the mind. Fun has rightly a large place in life; often laughter is the most medicinal thing that can come into our lives. Sombre- ness is not conducive to health of body or of soul. We need more real mirth, not less; we need more play than most of us have. Labor often becomes a slavery. Let us meet the xfe. I in. Intemper- ying as truly as iperance always An occasional give rest to the I the jaded sensi- ng, especially to if ever, benefits almost sure to , and to destroy ife of the world, his may be taken IS are rare. The Ereshment and of ital stimulus, is ;ins. nake amusement ;h and noble ends t, the purest feel- There are many ^ virtue as well as jhtly a large place le most medicinal ir lives. Sombre- alth of body or of lirth, not less; we I us have. Labor Let us meet the Ethics of Amusement. 349 I grim struggles and trials of life with a brave gayety ; but let us remember also that amuse- ments, as they are commonly understood, have only a relatively small place in an earnest life. As one's capacities become enlarged, his tastes purified, and his aims exalted, he has less and less concern over the question of "the ethics of amusement," at least on his own account. He finds that the richest pleasures are highest up. As the spirit attains more, the senses demand less. There is a world of beauty and light and joy about and above us. In the pro- gress of man toward the good and the true, new delights are continually disclosing them- selves to his eye, and pleasure is sublimed into joy that brings no sorrow and wherein is no excess. He who rises into the life of the spirit learns soon the meaning of Saint Paul's words: "All things are lawful for me, but not all things are expedient; all things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by any." He learns also the true, deep meaning of Saint Augustine's words : " Love, and do all things." What I have been saying implicitly in all this discussion, I now say explicitly: Take the spirit of life which Jesus reveals as the guide of your life; let love rule.. Let him, the Son of God, the Lover and Saviour and Tkt Aim of Lift. ^ Lord of your soul, give at once the law and the unwaating impulse of your life. He w| lead you into sweet and lasting health; he will give you the sure wisdom which solves the problems of each day as it comes, because it is the ever- transparent, inevitable wisdom of God. There is enduring happiness as well as enduring profit only in the life that rings true to the stroke of Jesu.'s saying : " He that loveth his life shall lose it, and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it." I cannot do better than to close with the brave, strong words of Thomas Carlyle: "Love not pleasure; love God. This is the everlasting Yea wherein all contradiction is solved; wherein whoso walks and works, it shall be well with him." Ifi, the law and the >. He will lead 1th; he will give res the problems le it is the ever- I of God. less as well as B that rings true " He that loveth lat loseth his life cannot do better strong words of t pleasure; love ; Yea wherein all rein whoso walks th him." READING. A GOOD book to the precious life-Wood of a mMteMplril •mbalmed und treuured up on purpoM to • life beyond life. — Milton. In book* lie the creative Phoenlx-whee of the whole Past. All that men have devtoed, dtocovered, done, felt, or Imagined, Ues recorded In Book.; wherein who.o haa learned the m;.- tery of ipelUng printed letters, may L d It, and appropriate It — Caklvlk. In books we find the dead as It ware llvliii,'; In b< oka we foresee things to come. These are th 9 master, who ins^ ruct ua without rods and ferules, without hard word j und a. i«r. If you approach them, they Vre not aslee; ; If Invent '»ttag you Intenogate them, they conceal nothing ; If you mi..take them they never grumWe; If you are Ignorant, they cannot laugb at you.— RicHAao dk Buky. Far m' i^ Mt'i V '^ ^ been stored in fable of the 3uds, but whose within the naih has been out- tens to us the [e. master of book- ie most miracu- evised. Odin's the work of a : still miraculous oks lies the soul rticulate audible Kly and material vanished like a les, harbours and d, many-engined, ut what do they many Agamem- iece; all is gone , dumb mournful ooks of Greece ! still very literally n into life. No Book. All that lined, or been: it ion. in the pages UK ■bnirfaiiaJuliM Reading. 857 " ■ "UHt-.i^iJl-B " of Books. They are the chosen possession of men. "Do not Books still accomplish miracles^ as Runts were fabled to do? They persuade men. Not the wretchedest circulating-library novel, which foolish girls thumb and con in remote villages, but will help to regulate the actual practical weddings and households of those foolish girls. So 'Celia' felt, so 'Clifford' acted: the foolish Theorem of Life, stamped into those young brains, comes out as a solid Practice one day. Consider whether any Rune in the wildest imagination of mythologist ever did such wonder as, on the actual firm Earth, some Books have done i What built St Paul's Cathedral? Look at the heart of the matter, it was that divine Hebrew BOOK." But reading does more than give us access to knowledge ; it furnishes a most important means of mental stimulus and discipline. If our read- ing is wise, the mind is nourished and all our faculties are developed and trained by what we read. Reading is not absolutely essential to acuteness and strength of mind, but it is neces- ioxy for breadth of knowledge, and, for most of us, it is the necessary means of discipline. The influence of the books that we read upon our mental habit can scarcely be exaggerated. 17 ^mA ia»iiiiMfT[iiifii[rtiiHini 258 The Aim of Life. We form our opinions from our favorite books. The author whom we most love is our most potent teacher; we look at the world through his eyes. If we habitually read books that are elevated in tone, pure in style, sound in reason- ing, and keen in insight, our minds take on the same qualities. If, on the contrary, we read weak or vicious books, our minds contract the faults and vices of the books. We cannot es- cape the influence of what we read any more than we can escape the influence of the air that we breathe. 2. Consider the relation of reading to morals. There are books that have no moral quality, good or bad, — such, for example, as treat of the exact sciences; Olney's Geometry, or Hardy's Quaternions, has no more immediate relation to morals than the multiplication table has. But most books have a distinct moral quality de- rived either from the subject or the author, or from both. Works of imagination derive their moral quality chiefly from their authors; though this is by no means without exception, for some- times an apparently corrupt man produces work that is without a stain. OccasionaUy genius seems to transcend all conditions. Works of history and travel derive their moral quality from both author and subject. Now, as our favorite books. re is our most world through books that arc) )und in reason- nds take on the itrary, we read ds contract the We cannot es- read any more e of the air that ading to morals. ) moral quality, le, as treat of the ;try, or Hardy's ;diate relation to table has. But loral quality de- >r the author, or ition derive their authors; though :eption, for some- m produces work :asionaUy genius ions. Works of iir moral quality ;t. Now, as our bEI5RBWS8P35?RS?W!SP?5v^ Reading. 259 mental quality and bent are very largely deter- mined by our habitual reading, so also our moral sentiments and tastes, and our ideals of excellence, in short, our characters, are pro- foundly affected by what we read. The influ- ence of books is more subtle and. if they are read in youth, is even more permanent than the influence of associates. An evil companion may lead us into temporary wrong-doing from which, in soberer moments, our whole nature re- coils ; but an evil book penetrates all defences, and poisons our life at its sources of thought and motive. Examples abound of the effect which reading has on character and conduct. Many a boy has gone to sea and become a rover for life, under the influence of Marryat's novels. Abbott's " Life of Napoleon," read at the age of seven years, sent one boy whom I knew to the army before he was fourteen. The vicious novels, such as "Claude Duval," "Dick Tur- pin," and " Sixteen-string Jack," which were still current thirty years ago, made many a high- wayman and midnight marauder. The chaplain of Newgate prison in London, in one of his annual reports to the Lord-Mayor, referring to many fine-looking lads of respectable parentage in the city prison, said that he discovered, " that all these boys, without one exception, had been .^..■^.^«.J...... 360 The Aim of Lift. in the habit of reading those cheap periodicals " which were published for the alleged amusement of the youth of both sexes. There is not a policerolonged contact I a Western city, B long acquainted itmosphere of an isisted of husband and vigor of early md two beautiful parlor conversing e table a copy of be nameless here ; sitor, and in some literature that was ooni took myde- Reading. 361 parture with troubled and foreboding thoughts. Not many months later, being in the city again, I called on the family and was met at the door by a strange face. Asking for Mrs. , I was told that she did not live there; that she had left her husband, and they were divorced. The beautiful home was broken up, by no appre- ciable cause but the vitiating influence of cor- rupt reading and consequent evil associates. The incident left on my mind an impression never to be effaced. The harmfulness of bad books is by no means confined to those books which are simply unclean. Many a man's moral life is perverted or debased by books that are not impure, as we commonly understand that term, but books that inculcate false principles. Who that is familiar with European history during the past three hundred years, does not know how baleful has been the influence of Machiavelli's "Prince," which made lying and treachery important elements of kingcraft and diplo- macy. Disciples of that book even declared that it was often the duty of a sovereign to lie; and well did Philip II., Catherine de' Medici, Charles IX. of France, and even the great Elizabeth, exemplify such teaching. Indeed European diplomacy has not yet entirely Tis^m 363 Thi Aim of Lift. outgrown the influence of the Machiavellian * 'irreligious books also, the writings of cynics and of ignorant or insincere opponents to Christianity, have done great harm to many. By the propagation of false ideas of religion. ,uch books have hindered the growth of a true faith, and have turned many who might have been helpers of their fellow-men toward Gc^ into advocates of irreligion. It is said that Voltaire, at the age of five years read a skcp- tical poem, the impression of whjch made h,m the arch-scoffer of his century. From this bad eminence not even his services to religious liberty can wholly relieve him. On the other hand good books have exerted an equally marked good influence. Benjamin Franklin, when a little boy. found an o^d,<=°Py of Cotton Mather's " Essay to do Good, and from it received that impulse toward benefi- cence and practical morality -''^^\^^\r^l than his statesmanship made his life lUustri- ous and his character an inspiring example to American youth. • j. *i,at Let this thought abide in your mmds. that what we read surely leaves its niark «pon ;»« for good or ill. It is then of utmost import- ance that we read only books which will ^^^w^mmmm^^' —r Machiavellian tings of cynics opponents to harm to many. eas of religion, rowth of a true rho might have en toward God It is said that rs, read a skcp- irhich made him From this bad :es to religious n. oks have exerted ence. Benjamin mnd an old copy do Good," and i toward benefi- which even more his life illustri- iring example to your minds, that ts mark upon us f utmost import- Doks which will ^!^^^^K!F^^^. s& Reading. 263 strengthen us in sound thinking, pure feeling, and right purpose. Again, as the number of books which any one can read is limited, and for most of us is quite small, it is specially im- portant that we read only the best. It is not necessary that we should read a multitude of books; it is necessary, for our own good and the good of those whom we influence, thit what we read should be worth reading. It is a virtue willingly to be ignorant of many books, especially if one seeks to know thoroughly books that are great and enduring. There are two simple rules, easily remem- bered, that give an excellent answer to the question often asked, "What shall we read?" These rules are, First : Read only pure books. No matter how great may be the genius of an author, if his books are unclean he is not (it either to instruct or amuse; and those who seek intercourse with him do it at their peril. Second: Read only, or at least chiefly, great books, — I mean books that make solid contri- bution to the store of human knowledge, or impart to the soul a strong and noble inspira- tion. There are a few books — Plato, Dante, Shakespeare, Bacon, Milton, Wordsworth, Browning, and the Bible — which, thoroughly ."Hi'-ia "Uit ' !■ (KMH ■kyrfkk 964 Thi Aim of Lif< known, give to the mind a breadth and power of thought, a grace of culture, and an elevation of tone that a whole library of ordinary books cannot give. Most earnestly I press this coun* sel: Cultivate acquaintance with the great masters of the English tongue. Get Noah Porter's little volume entitled, "Books and Reading," and selecting from its ample lists a few of the best works in Science, History, Poetry, and Morals, read them until their sub- stance has gone into your blood; then you will be rich in those qualities of mind and heart that make the humblest life noble and powerful for good. Now I propose to give you a few thoughts on how to rtad. Very many fairly intelligent people do not know how to read; they can pronounce words and sentences, and understand their general meaning, but they have never learned so to read that through reading the mind shall receive knowledge and stimulus, and develop constantly in power of faculty and breadth of view. One main function of a col> lege is to teach students the art of reading, — that is, the art of acquiring useful knowledge from books. The disciplined mind is the mind that can most quickly get out of a book what is in it for intellectual nutriment or use. One of IWHW II' I I I III I) 1 1 II II m iiiiiiiiiiniri i niiii m n Riodiug. 965 dth and power nd an elevation ordinary books >re88 this coun* ith the great le. Get Noah 1, "Books and ts ample lists a ience, History, until their sub- ood; then you i of mind and \\i& noble and a few thoughts airly intelligent read; they can , and understand ;hey have never igh reading the s and stimulus, er of faculty and unction of a col* rt of reading, — iseful knowledge nind is the mind of a book what is t or use. One of the very best results of his work in college which a student can bring away is the trained ability wisely to use a library. In order to read profitably one must culti- vate, (i) The power of attention, — that is, the power of fixing the mind upon a book, and keeping it fixed, until the faculties, focalized upon it as the sun-rays are focalized by a lens, burn their way to the very core of its mean- ing. Reading must be carried on not passively but actively, and even strenuously; the mind must work if it would receive real benefit. You cannot dawdle through a book and get anything valuable out of it. This is true with reference tven to works of the imagination, such as great poems and novels. Indeed such writ- ings can be grasped only when read with alert faculties and strenuous attention. Augustus William Hare said in his "Guesses at Truth," "For my own part. I have ever gained the most profit, and the most pleasure also, from the books which have made me think the most : and, when the difficulties have once been over- come, these are the books which have struck the deepest root, not only in my memory and understanding, but likewse in my affections. " In a similar vein Colton suggestively remarked that "Many books require no thought from 'laiMMIM i| W<) l iffi M» tM > Wr»W B W M MW» i lllli ill lllUI I WMi i itn ■smai tmmmmm mumasms 266 TAe Aim of Life. those who read them, and for a very simple reason, -^ they made no such demand upon those who wrote them. Those works therefore are the most valuable that set our thinking facul- ties in the fullest operation." The fault of many novels, not essentially bad, is that they do not rouse the mind and give it exercise. And the vice of many novel- readers is the habit' they have formed of going through chapter after chapter and volume after volume with the mind quiescent as if in revery. If you would read profitably you cannot read lazily. Many read innumerable books of one sort and another, and seemingly get no benefit ; they increase neither in knowledge nor in power. Doctor Johnson once said: "Read anything five hours a day, and you will soon be learned ; " but this, like some other of the brusque Doctor's sayings, must be taken with considerable qualification. There is whole- some truth m Robertson's words: "Multifari- ous reading weakens the mind more than doing nothing; for it becomes a necessity at last, like sradcing, and is an excuse for the mind to lie dormant whilst thought is poured in, and runs through, a clear stream, over unproduc- tive gravel, on which not even mosses grow. It is the idlest of all idleness, and leaves more m mmmm ife. a very simple mand upon those :s therefore are thinking facul- not essentially se the mind and e of many novel- formed of going and volume after nt as if in revery. you cannot read ble books of one jly get no benefit ; nowledge nor In ice said: "Read Lnd you will soon some other of the iust be taken with There is whole- rords: "Multifari- d more than doing necessity at last, ise for the mind to is poured in, and n, over unproduc- iven mosses grow, s, and leaves more iHMHi Reading. 267 of impotency than any other. " The true art of readii^g he thus suggests in an autobiographical note: "i know what reading is, fbr I could read once, and did. I read hard, or not at all ; never skimming, never turning aside to merely inviting books; and Plato, Aristotle, Butler, Thucydides, Sterne, Jonathan Edwards, have passed like the iron atoms of the blood into my mental constitution. " Attention in reading implies both aim and endeavor. What do you read a book for? Ask yourself that question and answer it. Have a definite object in reading, and then fix the attention as if you were digging for gold. If there is gold in the book you will find it. Exercise the judgment while reading, and fol- low Bacon's wise counsel : " Read not to con- tradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find Talk and Discourse, but to weigh and consider. " But to do this you must address yourself to your book with wide-awake faculties and tenacious attention. (2) System and continuity in reading are requisite to the b(»t results. Mere nriscella- tteous reading has comparatively little value. As in making a journey you have starting- point, course, and destination, so in reading, begin somewhere and go somewhere along a mm mmaa 268 The Aim of Life. definite line. Many read as a butterfly floats in the air, fluttering here and there, making no progress and reaching no ascertainable end. They take up a book, read a few pages or chapters, and then abandon it for something else. An excellent plan is to read by subjects. For example, take the subject of the Reforma- tion; then read Hallam's "Middle Ages." D'Aubigne's and Fisher's histories of the Reformation, Michelet's and Kostlin's lives of Luther, Robertson's "Charles V.," Prescott's "Philip II.," and Motley's " Rise of the Dutch Republic." Or, take the History of the United States; then read Parkman's works, Bancroft's "History of the United States," McMaster's "History of the People of the United States," Fiske's three or four volumes on American history, and the lives of Washing- ton, Patrick Henry, the Adamses, Hamilton, Calhoun, Webster, and their great contempora- ries. Or, again, take the Rise and Development of Christianity, and read the New Testament, Edersheira's or Geikie's "Life of Christ," Conybeare and Howson's "Life of Saint Paul," Farrar's "Early Days of Christianity," Uhlhom's "Conflict of Christianity and Hea- thenism," and Schaff's or Fisher's "History of the Christian Church." ife, I butterfly floats i there, making jcertainable end. a few pages or it for something read by subjects. of the Refomia- ' Middle Ages," histories of the Kostlin's lives of s v.," Prescott's lise of the Dutch History of the 'arkman's works, United States," le People of the e or four volumes lives of Washing- amses, Hamilton, great contempora- : and Development e New Testament, Life of Christ," "Life of Saint I of Christianity," istianity and Hea- FlsUer's "History Reading, 269 ■-"""^^S^""- '>^0m Subjects that are both interesting and of practical significance to all intelligent people are innumerable. History, Science, Art, Poli- tics, Law, Literature, and Economics, with their manifold subdivisions, furnish inviting subjects of study. Let whatever subject you choose be the end toward which, for the time being, your reading is directed; and when you have chosen a subject keep it steadily before you until you have acquired clear knowl- edge of its general scope and have mastered its main facts and principles. (3) Reading with attention and with system, seek to possess the results of your reading. A few books thoroughly mastered and digested are worth more than a whole library skimmed. Taking possessiou of what you read is not simply memorizing words or facts, but grasp- ing principles. All valuable facts are but the S3rmbols or illustrations of truths. To remem- ly-r the facts without grasping the truths is like treasuring the shell of the oyster while the pearl drops into the sea. Therefore, in seek- ing to possess the results of your reading, strive to discover and understand the princi- ples that underlie and inform all History, Art, Science, and Literature ; if this is not achieved readily, then read again and again until it is UNKMU B aWg&tayMMywtiiH mmmm mmmmmmff&fMim 270 TAe Aim of Life. achieved. Two or three things you should do : Firsts make notes of important facts and ideas on the margins of your books, or on slips of paper to be preserved for easy reference. Second, meditate on what you read; learn to ruminate and digest what you mentally receive. A book that does not give you food for thought is scarcely worth reading, save for diversion in an hour of fatigue ; and a reader who does not meditate on what he reads misses the main end of reading. True culture is the result not so much of the quantity read as of the amount digested. As Thomas Fuller pithily said: " Thou mayest as well expect to grow stronger by always eating as wiser by always reading. Too much overcharges Nature, and turns more into disease than nourishment. 'T i.^ thought and digestion which makes books serviceable, and gives health and vigor to the mind." Meditation is the true preventive of mental dyspepsia. Third, seek to get at the practical truth of what you learn, and reduce it to conduct. The highest result of mental activity and of culture is improved life. The end of truth is being. What we really learn goes into character. As food is to be taken up into the physical system and transformed into blood and bone and tissue ii8 i ai M W.iaiS!g f JB i ;r fe. you should do : facts and ideas or on slips of asy reference. read; learn to lentally receive. food for thought for diversion in er who does not les the main end he result not so of the amount pithily said: to grow stronger always reading. , and turns more t. 'T is thought aoks serviceable, to the mind." :ntive of mental >ractical truth of to conduct. The ity and of culture A truth is being, o character. As : physical system i bone and tissue Reading. 271 and forcf , so thoughts and truth are to become substance of spiritual being and energy of soul. Let the history of the world — the struggles 9nd triumphs of men in the long march of human progress, their vices as well as their virtues, their mistakes and failures as well as their successes — make you better and wiser and stronger for your individual battle of life. Then your reading will be to you a source of power and a means of growth in all excellence of heart and mind ; for not simply to know more than you did, but to become better than you were, is the true end of culture. I now venture to suggest, very briefly, some things that you all ought to know. The sug- gestions are meant to serve as guides in the selection of subjects on which to read. (i) You ought to know as much as possible about yourselves: about your own body, — its structure, capabilities, and needs, and how rightly to care for it and use it ; about your own mind, — its nature, powers, and susceptibilities, and how to train anJ employ it in achieving worthy ends; about your own soul, — your rela- tions to God ani your fellow-men, your weak- nesses and strengths, your duties and destiny. In a word, " know thyself " You should, there- fore, have sor. e clear knowledge of anatomy, ■.T^r >v^5»i*':^?TT^,-sKii?s'gKrwn ■ aMBMi iMMai 372 The Aim of Life. physiology, and hygiene, of mental and moral science, and of religion. (2) You ought to know much about your specific work. A careful study of your own business or profession, — be it farming, mechan* ics, trade, medicine, law, teaching, music, journalism, — is necessary to the highest suc- cess. There are valuable books on all the various occupations, the best of which you should seek to know and master. It is your duty to make the most of yourself, — both God and men require this of you ; and you cannot do it unless you acquaint yourself with the best methods and the be^it attained results in your chosen vocation. The man who works in leather or iron ought to know the history and uses ot those materials, or he works only on a little higher level than the machine that blindly stitches the one, or the steam-hammer that unconsciously forges the other. The young woman who has consecrated her fresh powers to the noble art of teaching ought to know the history and principles of her art, and seek to equal, and even to improve upon, the work of her predecessors. (3) You ought to know as much as possible about the history and literature of your own country. The institutions in . the midst of .ife. nental and moral luch about your iidy of your own fanning, mechan- teaching, music, the highest suc- >ook3 on all the St of which you ister. It is your rself, — both God and you cannot do lelf with the best ;d results in your n who works in iw the history and e works only on a :he machine that the steam-hammer the other. The secrated her fresh teaching ought to )les of her art, and improve upon, the s much as possible iture of your own in . the midst of W'!!JS':WIIH%'#>'-' ' Reading. 273 which you have been nurtured, the laws by which you are protected, and the liberties which you enjoy, are all the fruit of somebody's think- ing and suffering and achieving in the past. Knowledge of whence these came, and by whom they were wrought out, will stimulate true patri- otism in you, and give you a higher appreciation of your privileges; you will thus become better citizens and broader-minded men and women. (4) Finally, you ought to know something of the course of human progress, and the out- lines of general history, ancient and modern. This will enable you to understand the true significance of the present ; for the present has its roots in the past. Such knowledge as you need in this direction can be acquired with comparatively little difficulty. There are man- uals of general history that are sufficiently comprehensive, and at the same time brief, to give you an intelligent idea of what humanity has thought and achieved in bygone centuries. I note, as an example, Fisher's "Outline of Universal History;" this should be supple- mented by such series as " Epochs of History " and "The Story of the Nations." The chief element of history is the record of the great facts and the progressive illustration of the principles of morals and religion. It is 18 The Aim of Lift. on the religious side of your nature that you are most closely and most vitally related to the past. For the awakening and the intelligent development of your own religious life you need to know both the history of revelation and the account of human experience as shaped by the divine purpose of redemption. The true significance of all history appears clearly only in the light of divine revelation; for God alone gives the key to the problem of time and the soul. You will miss the highest benefit of historical study unless you learn to trace the hand of God in history, and the gradual unfolding of God's purpose to lift man up out of bestiality and sin into the life of the spirit. The progress of the race is the slow but sure evolution of the Kingdom of God. First, then, of all books for you to "read, mark, learn and inwardly digest " is the Bible. As history alone it has a value beyond that of any other equally ancient writings ; as fur- nishing the true point of view for the right understanding of history, it is without a rival. The careful and habitual study of this sacred volume will be fruitful of many benefits. It stands above all others as a means of moral self-knowledge, of inspiration to faith and love, and of instruction in the aims and duties wammmm re. lature that you Y related to the the intelligent igious life you y of revelation rience as shaped lemption. The appears clearly ilation; for God vroblem of time iss the highest ess you learn to ', and the gradual ) lift man up out life of the spirit. he slow but sure [jod. or you to "read, est " is the Bible, alue beyond that writings; as fur- iew for the right is without a rival, idy of this sacred lany benefits. It i means of moral ion to faith and tie aims and duties Reading. 275 of life. As a manual for the study of our mother tongue there is no book equal to the English Bible, with its nervous, sinewy, im- pressive, Saxon speech. The Bible is also a prime instrument of mental discipline and cul- ture. There is no eloquence like that of the prophets; no religious poetry like that of the Psalms; no ethics like that of the Sermon on the Mount ; no spiritual illumination like that of the Gospel of Sai.it John. No one is uneducated who is thoroughly conversant With the letter and the spirit of the Bible. That great and precious book has trained many of the greatest masters of literary style; it has inspired the sublimest oratory and the divinest song. Whatever else you may neglect, you caimot afford to neglect the Bible. If men tell you that it is a book of fables, tell them that when they have produced something better in its influence on human life you will discard it, and not till then. Let the great truths, the lofty sentiments, the heroic examples, the pure counsels, and the inspiring hopes that have place and expression in that divine and indestructible book pene- trate and possess your minds, and direct all your conduct; and whether you learn many other things or not, you will at least learn that -p. AM i MK-MW The Aim of Life. which will be of most service to you while you live, and of iwcotest comfort when you die. And now, what i^ the grand aim and end of reading ? Is it self-improvement in knowledge and taste and mental power? But self-improve- n.ent for what? Culture may be selfish, and selfish culture leads away from the chief ends of life. The aim of self-improvement must be the better service of God through bettered quality of life and heightened efliciency in serving humanity. AH of right desire, aspira- tion, impulse, and endeavor terminates here. You belong to God; in His service alone can your true destiny be attained. The grand motive of self-culture is divine love ; that love creates motive both to know and to do. With- out the love of God life loses all that is most hopefu' and uplifting; with that love comes into your heart a divine impulse that will not be exhausted here, but will sweetly impel you toward all excellence hereafter and forever. Time is but the opportunity for beginning true culture. That opportunity is yours ; it is offered to every soul that is bold enough to seize it. No adverse circumstances exclude you; the aristocracy of noble mind is open to all. You may be poor and hard-pressed with r'gorous necessity of toil: — fi. e to you while :t when you die. aim and end of It in knowledge jut self-improve- be selfish, and I the chief ends vement must be hrough bettered ed efficiency in ht desire, aspira- terminates here, jervice alone can led. The grand e love; that love nd to do. With- 5 all that is most that love comes se that will not be ireetly impel you fter and forever, or beginning true yours ; it is offered nough to seize it. exclude you; the open to all. You sed with r'gorous Reading. - What then ? Thou art as true a man As moves the human mass among ; As much a part of the Great Plan That with Creation's dawn began, As any of the throng. " True, wealth thou hast not i 't is but dust I Nor place ; uncertain as the wind t But that thou hast, which, with thy crust And water, may despise the lust Of both — a noble mind. « With this and passions under ban. True faith and holy trust in God, Thou art the jv r of any man. Look up, th( lat thy little span Of life m. well trod I " jiM tuii l ORTHODOXY. , O.EAT U the truth «d mighty rfH,v M »»»»«g.. " ^«'«"- DM .»t. und l.t«., wM torn Cni. glord-rt wlrd. Ut W«hrh«ittUtbe. - Goethe. Th. .tudv of truth I. p«rp«tu«My Joined with the love of Itt befii^ *««» • lie.— Casauboh. Hold thou the good ; define it weU « For few Avlne Phllo«)phy Should puih beyond her mwrk and be P,ocureMtoth.U,rd.ofHell. ^^^^^.^, Shdl 1 Mk the breve K.ldl.r who fighU by my rid. K. ca«.e of ««.kind. If our cre«l. .gee } ^^^^^ V «»ii find thet It U the modett. not the preeumptuoue J^r^Ihtmi-JV^^^^^ rrhniw."^t°Hi.rs ::J m hu wo,.- *^""°"%or hew., of that .tubbom crew Of errant ealnt^ whom aU men grant To be the true chureh rolUtant ; Such ae do buUd thdr faith upon The holy text of pike and gun ; iVdde all controverriea by Infaffible artillery ; ^v^„ , And prove their doctrinet orthodox By apoatolk blow, ami knock*. ^^^^ I. iiUthlnp. — ^w/'W'- nie gdordart wird, Ut [>ln«d with the lova of lerivn not lu original I no vies which haa not na it w«U s Br mark and d* r Hell. TemmyboW. fighu by my M» :reed8 ag-ee ? t, not the preaumptuoua rogreaaln the diacovery ire and Nature'a God— lu and In Hie word.— )bom crew all men grant miUtant ; faith upon ind gun ; eaby inet orthodox d knock*. Birru»> nfmfffffSmi ' .-.ri 'T^r- r IfMGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) Photographic Samoes CorporaHon 23 WIST MAIN STRHT WIISTER,N.Y. 14SM (716)87a-4S03 j-»iK j^wnm n ii f wnri Tai . i>g»a*i wifc^ dMu»KUi**i*« ■.««*« kw «mi CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Instituta for Historical IMicroraproductions / institut Canadian da microraproductions historiquas Orthodoxy. 279 Ueb* iinmer Treu und Redlichkeit bis an dein kUhles Grab, Und weiche keinen Finger breit von Gottes Wegen abl Uann wirst du, wie auf griinen Au'n, durch's PUgerleben Danri^nnst du sender Furcht und Grau'n dem Tod in's AntUU sehn. HOlty. And so the Word had breath, and wrought With human hands the Creed of creeds In loveliness of perfect deeds. More strong than all poetic thought. Tennysom. So let our lips and lives express The holy gospel we profess ; So let our works and virtues shine To prove the doctrine all divine. ' WATTS. WHAT is orthodoxy ? Few words have been more persistently misunderstood or worse abused than this really noble word. In the popular use of it, its meaning has changed with changes of time and place. Orthodoxy meant one thing on the lips of Origen; another thing in the pages of Atigustine ; still another in the dusty pedantry of the Schoolmen, and the less worthy dogmatism of sixteenth century Catholi- cism ; and yet another in the sermons of Luther and Calvin; while in our day it means some- thing different from the orthodoxy of the Reformation. The Saxon Bishop Stigand, in the days of stout but ill-fated King Harold, said : — i aSo The Aim of Life. " In our windy world What '8 up U faith, what 's down is hereiy." An ecclesiastical successor of Stigand's, when asked, "What is orthodoxy?" replied, "Orthcy- doxy is my doxy ; heterodoxy is another man's doxy." * Both Stigand and his successor have consistent followers to-day. As commonly understood by fairly intelligent people, " orthodoxy " designates the prevailing belief of evangelical Christians, — namely, the system of related truths that constitutes in sub- stance the teaching of most of the theological seminaries, and has more or less complete ex- pression in the creeds of Protestant Churches. By some, " orthodoxy " is identified with a group of inflexible dogmas that express the hard and repulsive spirit of an exaggerated Calvinism. Still others claim the title of ortho- doxy for theological tenets that directly or by implication are opposed to Calvinism. The word often has been prostituted to mere party uses. The Greek Church adopts the distinctive title of " The Orthodox Church." The Roman Church makes a like claim in its assumption that all religionists outside of its fold are schismatics or heretics. The Protestant maintains that the title properly belongs to those who accept the » Bbhop Warburton to Lord Sandwich. m^m^ i mM:^^ ^^^ ^ '^-- ^^ "' 'V fe. world I is heresy." Stigand's, when replied, " Orthos- is another man's 5 successor have fairly intelligent !s the prevailing s, — namely, the )nstitutes in sub- r the theological less complete ex- estant Churches, identified with a that express the an exaggerated the title of ortho- lat directly or by Calvinism. The :d to mere party pts the distinctive h." The Roman ts assumption that lid are schismatics Maintains that the le who accept the 1 Sandwich. Orthodoxy, 281 body of doctrines accordantly held by the great divisions of the Protestant Church. Within each church or denomination there is usually a party that arrogates to itself the peculiar merit of orthodoxy. Leaving aside all these conflicting and par- tisan uses — we might better call them abuses of the word, let us examine into its root-idea, and so arrive, if possible, at a clear and definite conception of its meaning. Orthodoxy is a compound of the two Greek words 0^96^ and Ul^a. 'Op0'-. ■^"•"•"•^^••SMUJBSI 'nnj i iitBa K i 1 i 1 ■i'j i 1 The Aim of Life. Etymologically, then, the meaning of ortho- doxy is right or true opinion or judgment. Cleared of abuses, orthodoxy is simply right thinking, thinking according to what is right or true. Intrinsically it is as applicable to opinions on art or politics as it is to religious beliefs, though we seldom hear of an orthodox art-critic, and never of an orthodox politician. But universal usage has given to this word a distinctively religious or theological sense. Orthodoxy, therefore, means right thinking as to religion in its broad sense. Broadly con- ceived, religion includes both faith and morals, — that is, it comprehends our moral relations to God and our moral relations to men. He is orthodox who thinks rightly on faith and on conduct. , . r •* Now, orthodoxy has been much used as i! it were in itself an absolute principle. To say that an opinion is orthodox is, with many, to end discussion and inquiry. But this is a mis- use of the term; orthodoxy is merely relative. Right thinking implies a standard according to which thinking is just and true. There is always, of course, among intelligent people, the tecit assumption of a standard. It may be a par- ticular creed or symbol, as the Westminster Confession, or the Thirty-Nine Articles of the gm,^ .ife. leaning of ortho- sn or judgment. f is simply right 3 what is right or iicable to opinions religious beliefs, irthodox art-critic, tician. iven to this word theological sense. right thinking as ie. Broadly con- i faith and morals, iir moral relations )ns to men. He is ' on faith and on much used as if it trinciple. To say : is, with many, to But this is a mis- is merely relative, idard according to e. There is always, t people, the tecit It may be a par- s the Westminster ine Articles of the Orthodoxy. 383 Anglican Church, or the Apostles' Creed ; or indeed, it may be the Koran, or the sacred books of Buddhism. The member of a sect finds his standard in the accepted symbol of his sect; but right thinking is not a matter of sect or party. What is true is true ; it cannot be true for one man and false for another man. Is there any standard of right thinking with reference to man's highest concerns, — his faith and his duty? If there is, then that is the standard of orthodoxy. I cannot here go into a discussion of the ultimate basis of authority in religion; nor need I do that, except in the most general way. A sufficient standard of religious belief and practice can be found only in a veritable revelation of God, for God is the source of truth as well as of law. There are not two standards, one of orthodoxy and one of righteousness ; be- lief and conduct are not separable, save in thought, for moral truth and moral law are in essence one. Both express the one nature which is absolutely good, and is, therefore, the ground of all true belief and the spring of all right action. Apart from the being and nature of God, there can be neither truth nor righteous- ness. Our commonest moral principles have a theistic basis. The standard that jve seek is found in the Bible. 384 The Aim of Life. The scriptures of the Old and New Testa- ments assume to give an adequate revelation of the nature and will of God in His relations to humanity. Christendom accepts the Bible as peculiarly the Word of God. This position the Bible securely holds, not as deriving its authority from some theory of inspiration, but as being what it is, —a book full of deity and humanity. Many people have striven with much ingenuity and persistence to discredit the Bible as the authority in religion and morals. Fastening upon certain features and elements of this composite work, they have even denied that it contains a true expression of God's relation to man. That such efforts have failed needs no demonstration here; their main result has been to stimulate such study of the Bible as has made more and more clear to the world that here, and especially in the chief personality which it presents, is a spiritual communication that authenticates it- self as divine both to the reason and to the heart of mankind. It is the glory of Protestantism, and the secret of its crescent triumph, that it has grappled with the fundamental question of religious authority, and has, I will not say exalted the Bible, but, in some measure, has recognized and enounced its true signiacance fe. md New Testa- i^uate revelation in His relations xepts the Bible This position as deriving its inspiration, but [uU of deity and ve striven with nee to discredit in religion and lin features and work, they have I true expression rhat such efforts onstration here ; 3 stimulate such e more and more and especially in it presents, is a authenticates it- n and to the heart of Protestantism, t triumph, that it lental question of i, I will not say )me measure, has true significance Orthodoxy. 285 to the world as a revelation of the divine in terms and conditions of the human. In pro- moting, sometimes by destructive, but more often by constructive methods, a clear under- standing and a rational interpretation of the Bible, Protestantism has rendered an immeas- urable service to the world. It is apparent that before answering the question : What is orthodoxy ? it is necessary to answer the preliminary question: What is the true standard of belief as to the nature of God and his purposes toward man ? That ques- tion is answered for us by the Bible. I assume that you believe the essential message of the Bible; for, before you can reject that message intelligently and honestly, you must have destroyed its authority by proving it false. I do not mean that you must have found that the Biblical history is not infallible; it does not assume to be infallible. Nor do I mean that you must have found records of facts and events that belong to the realm of myth and legend, and, especially in the earlier books of the Bible, expressions of defective morals and wrong ideas of God ; nor do I mean that you must have demonstr:. r^ that long-current opin- ions as to the authorsl ip and date and struc- ture of certain books are erroneous, —all this ^^gg^^H^fe? The Aim of Life. you may do without toucnip? the main ques- tion of the Bible as a source of divine authority in religion and morals; but I mean that you must have invalidated the spiritual communica- tions which have their culminating and unique expression in the life and character and teach- ings of Jesus Christ. This, I take for granted, you have not done. Accepting the Bible, especially the New Testament, as giving a true account of man's relation to God, and a true expression of God's goodwill toward man, we have an adequate, at least the highest attainable, objective standard of religious thinking and believing. It is not an arbitrary rule of faith, for it appeals to rea- son before it commands assent. The true conception of orthodoxy, then, is, that it is the correspondence of our ideas with the thoughts of God as those find fullest and purest expres- sion in the Christian Scriptures. Of course the thoughts of God which are discoverable by us are not confined to the Bible; but for the clearest and most spiritual knowledge of the divine nature and purpose we are dependent on the revelation of which the Bible is the pre-eminent vehicle. This is true whether we consider the Biblical writings as products of express divine dictation or of a fe, the main ques- divine authority mean that you cual communica- ting and unique acter and teach- cake for granted, cially the New ccount of man's iression of God's ; an adequate, at jjective standard eving. It is not it appeals to rca- sent. The true , is, that it is the rith the thoughts id purest expres- es. : God which are confined to the id most spiritual ;ure and purpose relation of which vehicle. This is Biblical writings \ dictation or of a Orthodoxy. * 387 spiritual evolution of humanity under a divine impulse. The Bible gives us a knowledge different both in kind and in degree from the knowledge afforded by Nature. Besides, the Biblical point of view is inter- pretative; it gives the clew to our spiritual nature and relations. Mainly history itself, the Bible furnishes the key to the history of the race; it opens, too, the meaning of the material universe. In it is spoken that word of God which gives us insight into the deeper significance of the works of God. The devout and earnest mind, instructed in the divine thought which the Bible contains, sees higher and sweeter meanings than science alone has ever discovered, in the hieroglyphs that shine on the wide scroll of earthly land- scape and starry sky Faith discovers in sun and rock and animal and plant, not that which contradicts science, but that which makes science itself worth while. Orthodoxy, then, is not primarily, nor, per- haps, even at all, correspondence of opinion with a specific creed or system of theology. Every creed is but the precipitated thought on religion of some man, or school of men, or several generations of men, put into proposi- tional and logical form, — that is, a creed, while ■'p?1f?»r?vp"^%^ 288 The Aim of Lije, it may be a very great and a very sacred thing, is, after all, but a human, and consequently fallible, interpretation of truth. It is there- fore incorrect to pronounce any one orthodox or heterodox because his belief corresponds or fails to correspond with a certain creed. That creed is itself always on trial ; it has its standard and justification, not in itself, but in the ground on which it rests. The Word of God, in the Bible but not identical with the Bible, is the true standard of belief. Apart from that Word the creeds of the Church, the decisions of councils, and the exhortations and anathemas of all time are without authority and force ; and claims of orthodoxy and charges of heterodoxy alike are impertinent if not absurd. The standard of orthodoxy is, then, the revelation of God's nature and His will toward man which is given us in the sacred Scrip- tures, and especially in the person and teach- ings of Jesus Christ. In other words, the standard of orthodoxy is the Bible, taken on its highest plane of spiritual communication. If we accept the Bible as our standard of belief, it would seem to be an easy task to determine what doctrine* are true and what are false, — that is, what doctrines are orthodox. 1 ' Lije. \ very sacred thing, and consequently truth. It is there- e any one orthodox belief corresponds h a certain creed. on trial ; it has its not in itself, but in sts. The Word of identical with the d of belief. Apart of the Church, the he exhortations and ! without authority thodoxy and charges impertinent if not doxy is, then, the and His will toward the sacred Scrip- ; person and teach - 1 other words, the ;he Bible, taken on al communication. as our standard of be an easy task to are true and what ctrines are orthodox. Orthodoxy. 289 But we are confronted with a difficulty, and that difficulty inheres in the superficial, or irrational, or partisan, way in which many view the Bible. It is a common, but intellectually vicious, fault that men come to the Bible with pre- formed opinions which they proceed to import into the Bible; or they look at it from a single angle of vision, from which they see only one aspect of its truth, and hence are incapable of viewing that truth in its large proportions and manifold relations. The Bible must be taken not as the product of a mechanical dictation for dogmatic purposes, but as a vital and progres- sive expression of. the divine life and thought in human terms and through forms of human experience. God is in, not outside of, human history. He is in the experience of prophets and peoples, making for Himself ever clearer and more spiritual expression, until m the Christ, "the fulness of the Godhead bodily" appears reconciling the world to Himself. How great a book is the Bible thus simply and largely taken! It reveals God; it makes articulate His love and wisdom. In the per- son of Christ and the wonderful story of his human life of toil and suffering and beautiful beneficence, it brings God near to us, and in 19 \&-i^: ar ! 290 Tke Aim of Life. some effective way comprehensible to our hearts. It gives us life as the guide of life; it demonstrates the divine mercy by the record of deeds that perpetually feed the springs of human charity, and keep hope alive in the heart of the world; and it exhibits the divine ideal of human righteousness in a character and a life which forever invite and inspire imitation, and forever rebuke our sins and shame our follies, and turn us back from our- selves to the power and grace of God for hope of salvation. Tlie Bible not only presents to us truths to be believed, but also a righteousness to be achieved. Its evident aim is the deliverance of humanity from sin by the power of an informing holy life. Of this manifold Scrip- ture Jesus Christ is the central figure. More than any one else in the history of the world he is the ideal man; and he is this because he is the expression of the indwelling deity. In him God is immanent, and so through him God is revealed in a way at once intelligible to our minds and efficacious to our hearts. The highest communications of the Bible cannot be rightly apprehended by the reason unless they are also received by the heart. Man is saved by loving even more than by ^^E^SK.'fiKiiMfiAT H! Life. rehensible to our the guide of life; nercy by the record eed the springs of hope alive in the exhibits the divine less in a character invite and inspire buke our sins and 1 us back from our- ace of God for hope ents to us truths to righteousness to be n is the deliverance ^ the power of an this manifold Scrip- entral figure. More history of the world le is this because he ndwelling deity. In 1 so through him God ce intelligible to our ar hearts. Kitions of the Bible ended by the reason eived by the heart. even more than by Orthodoxy. 291 knowing; hence revelation to become a regen- erative moral power must be through person- ality. Faith like love terminates on a person, and not on a proposition. The appeal of the Scriptures to faith in Christ is entirely rational. If we keep clearly in mind the real nature of faith, we cannot exaggerate its importance. It is only when the personal element is desic- cated out of faith that it becomes a dead thing, like the dogmas to which fungus-like it attaches. The Bible certainly demands faith; but the practical side of faith is righteousness, and these are inseparable. " Faith without works is dead." A belief that has not in it a beating heart of pure love is certainly not the Biblical belief. A faith that does not make desire purer, and motive higher, and conduct holier, and character more beautiful with truth and sympathy and charity, cannot be an orthodox ' faith, though it claim the sanction of innumer- able creeds ; for orthodoxy means right think- ing, and right thinking is only the rational side of right living. Now, it is only in taking the Bible in this large way, and with a supreme regard to its spirit rather than to its letter, that it is mani- festly a sufficient standard and test of ortho- doxy; for there are many conflicting doctrines '!^^.->, 292 The Aim of Life. of theology for which the authority of the Bible is claimed. We are to determine the truth or falsity of beliefs by reference always to the Word of God. But the Word of God is variously interpreted from a dogmatic point of view, and the result is a great perplexity in many minds. Are we in need of some test additional to the bare let- ter of Scripture? What shall that test be? Shall it be the traditions of Catholic Chris- tianity? They are often but the precipitated fancies of fallible, and almost always super- stitious, men. Shall it be the dicta of an "infallible" pope? Dependence on these is a confession of helplessness and despair. Shall it be the concurrent thought of the devout scholars of a country or an age? August and weighty as this must ever be, it is but a body of opinions that are subjected to fresh trial by every advance in critical knowledge. What- ever help they may afford us in the way of instruction or stimulus to thought, their value is chiefly historical, and they are not adequate to our need. The Christian consciousness of the historic Church, quickened and made wise by that spirit whom Christ promised to his followers, with the assurance, " He shall guide you into all the truth," is a stronger safeguard I I Life. ithoFity of the Bible irmine the truth or ;nce always to the ariously interpreted lew, and the result ny minds. Are we onal to the bare let- shall that test be? of Catholic Chris- but the precipitated most always super- be the dicta of an idence on these is a and despair. Shall lUght of the devout \ age? August and be, it is but a body cted to fresh trial by knowledge. What- •d us in the way of thought, their value hey are not adequate ian consciousness of kened and made wise rist promised to his nee, " He shall guide a stronger safeguard Orthodoxy- 293 against error in the interpretation of the Bible, and a surer guide in the art of right living, than any objective standard can be. The com- mon, conventional orthodoxy denies the valid- ity of the Christian consciousness, and, in its dependence on infallible dogma, practically denies any real function to the Holy Spirit. But besides the Christian consciousness, which manifestly is subject to constant tuition and growth, is there any test of truth which is accessible to all, and which, in its simplicity and effectiveness authenticates itself to the sincere mind ? The test needed is furnished in the influence of doctrines on life; in the words of Christ, applicable as well to principles and beliefs as to men : " Ye shall know them by their fruits. " Religious beliefs can never rightly be matters of mere curious speculation; they are impor- tant only as they have entered into the blood of an individual or a generation, and thus become formative forces in character. Indeed they are not properly beliefs unless they have thus entered into the mental and moral life of men. They are true only as they conform not merely to the letter but to the spirit of God's . Word; and their conformity to the spirit of that Word may be surely tested by the results I -— - -■■t^--:-a^'?-?ty^'^- J 294 I'hf ^^^ ^f ^if^' which they actually produce in character and deeds; for doctrines, I repeat, like men, are known by their fruits. Here, then, is a practical test of orthodoxy which the Bible itself indicates, and which to the perplexed but ingenuous mind is beyond price. It is presumable at the outset that beliefs having fairly and fully the sanction of the Sacred Scriptures, are wholly good in their influence on conduct and character; beliefs and doctrines do not exist for their own sake. The end of all doctrines is life. Truth is realized in being. Orthodoxy is infinitely desirable because correspondence of belief with the thought of God has its ultimate result in correspondence of character with the nature of God. In testing doctrines by their practical results on a large scale, we need an historical perspec tive, —that is to say, the doctrines themselves must have been held in the minds and hearts of men long enough to work out their legiti- mate consequences Keeping in mind the prin- ciple that the Bible, rightly understood, must soundly and beneficently affect life, must make men better in all their relations, we may safely affirm that if a religious belief, whether claim- ing Biblical sanction or not, has an evil effect Sl^i*'.''- yiMilWi- i -UMII Life. e in character and eat, like men, are 1 test of orthodoxy cates, and which to us mind is beyond at the outset that ully the sanction of vholly good in their character ; beliefs for their own sake. is life. Truth is odoxy is infinitely )ondence of belief IS its ultimate result cter with the nature leir practical results n historical perspec- doctrines themselves le minds and hearts ork out their legiti- ing in mind the pr in- ly understood, must flfect life, must make itions, we may safely elief, whether claim- ot, has an evil effect Orthodoxy. 295 upon life; if it makes men selfish and cruel; if it break* down self-restraint and induces immorality; if it degrades life by violating those relations which have their centre in the home; if it cramps the mind or corrupts the heart and perverts the conduct, — then one of two inferences is inescapable: either (i) the belief is based on a misinterpretation or a per- version of God's Word, and hence, though ostensibly Scriptural, is really unscriptural and false; or (2) the belief is in direct and obvious antagonism to God's Word, and by that fact is condemned as untrue. Escape from both of these inferences is impossible. It is true even of the best f error, ever throws Jible, and ever more ts fitness to lead the ^es of men. ; test of orthodoxy, jd Scriptures as the atters of faith and ie agreement or dis- the essential message life reveals. A bad 1 or defence in the Orthodoxy. 299 Bible. Do we cast doubt or contempt on the promised aid of the Holy Spirit in the discov- ery and verification of truth ? No ; for it is in the faithful exercise bf reason, and the diligent use of all rational means, that the promise of divine guidance is fulfilled to the honest and the devout. Young men, seek to be orthodox, — that is, seek, not the accord of your opinions with some system of theology considered as an ultimate rule of belief, but the agreement of your thought with the thought of God. To this end I commend you to the holy Jesus as the best teacher, and exemplar of orthodoxy, and to that spirit of reverence and humility and sincere teachableness which is the best qualification for learning life's highest lessons. Remember that religious beliefs, in order to have any real significance and value, must be positive and vital; they must take hold of spiritual realities, and they must take hold of you : and they must be wrought out into con- duct. Be assured that a holy life is the best evidence of substantial orthodoxy. A life lived daily unto God, a life of pure and gen- erous deeds, a life of cheerfulness and patience and sympathy, not only reveals belief, it also verifies belief; nay, more, it reacts upon belief, 300 The Aim of Life. ever bringing it, and with it the believing heart, into closer conformity with the will and purpose of- God. , " Think truly, and thy thought Shall the world's famine feed ; Speak truly, and each word of thine Shall be a fruitful seed ; Live truly, and thy life shall be A great and noble creed." THE END. i f i ■ mm I m mmeBommmfmm J Life. \ it the believing r with the will and I thought amine feed ; h word of thine ■eed ; ife shall be creed." ). 1 MOBS/tTS BROTHERS' PUBUCATtONS, THE INTELLECTUAL LIFE Bt PHILIP GILBERT HAMERTON, AVTHOK or -A Pdnter't C«mp," "ThooghU About Art," "Tta U«- known River," "Chapters on Aninalt." S^yM ItHW, tMN, gtH. 9*m It-OO. PrmmlDiCkHMmUfiim. ^ ^ U M>HM|i«r» tli4 ^T - iwMriMbU book. - t|i» |»« g^^jj^fe*^ gniiiy hk tuM% "r. HwBMMi miiiM oi Ilia I •"<>.«»»,t-— i tte owf imoondMri* *>«™'!*,.Jl^,SSi/^i^tio«, oi rrtn wry loi«i> S«00. It oreiwils, In .triking rhetoric, the ide* th.t the centrri purpoM ol Ufa ^r'lil wr.hould r^ognTzTthe^sclpIinary char,cUr ol event. «d ex- -riT^ We TtSted to K,me extent without knowmg U. Ihe periences. w* "" ~"~"™ ,,,„ .-j apparatus the cerUinUes, which depend primarily upon ourselves, -is the S. o. thiTmtle bix-k. To live for the good and ^-f-''^^^^^ toThighest point our intellectual, moral, and physical natures ; »» '"^•' ^ upward and onward, evolving finaMy, out of the *«8» ""^ ref"^ Thun^nity, the perfect type that shall be fitted to B^d". « "to «« " invis.ble university of God," - is the ^^'^^fj^'^'^f^'^^^^f^!:, the refined and talented author of "the doctrine of a future life place, before yxt. — Art Intirthangt. Sold by all bookstlltrs; mailed, postpaid, oh rectipt of prict, by the publishers, ROBER rS BROTHERS. Boston. II )F LIFE. lAUH, (,," " Tk* StlUudu tf I, $i.oa At the central purpoM ol lite the term. The globe l» the onal divliion», where mUlion» pettoni are talks, and all our ture, art, aoclety, are teacheri. l(e here, and make the mo»t y character o( event* and ex- it without knowing it. The ratua iumiahed in this world- I conform to the regulatlont, rer. — Educational JturHot. tha Founder and Head,— lU I puplU, lt» teacher* deilre, rith their letfons of energy, reward* and punishments, >nd failures, that are placed irlly upon ourselves, — Is the good and beautiful; to develop nd physical natures ; to forever out of the dreg* and refuse |)e fitted to graduate into the jtiful system of ethical culture ) doctrine of a future life" i, postpaid, OH rtciipt of BROTHERS. Boston.