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diff --git a/67624-0.txt b/67624-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb0cb69 --- /dev/null +++ b/67624-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4214 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Unfinished Rainbows, by George Wood
+Anderson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: Unfinished Rainbows
+ And Other Essays
+
+Author: George Wood Anderson
+
+Release Date: March 13, 2022 [eBook #67624]
+
+Language: English
+
+Produced by: MFR and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+ https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
+ generously made available by The Internet Archive)
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNFINISHED RAINBOWS ***
+
+
+
+
+
+ UNFINISHED RAINBOWS
+ And Other Essays
+
+ by
+ GEORGE WOOD ANDERSON
+
+
+ [Illustration: Abingdon Press logo]
+
+ THE ABINGDON PRESS
+ NEW YORK CINCINNATI
+
+
+
+
+ Copyright, 1922, by
+ GEORGE WOOD ANDERSON
+
+ Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+ CONTENTS
+
+
+ PAGE
+ I. Unfinished Rainbows 5
+ II. Gathering Sunsets 12
+ III. Beyond the Curtained Clouds 19
+ IV. Tilling the Sky 26
+ V. Unquarried Statues 33
+ VI. The Ages to Come 40
+ VII. The Unlocked Door of Truth 47
+ VIII. Weaving Sunbeams 54
+ IX. The Pathway of a Noble Purpose 61
+ X. Swords for Moral Battles 68
+ XI. Spiced Wine 75
+ XII. The Fever of Health 82
+ XIII. The Wisdom of the Unlearned 89
+ XIV. The Strength of Weakness 96
+ XV. Crumbling Palaces 103
+ XVI. The Echo of Life’s Unsung Songs 110
+ XVII. Modern Judases 117
+ XVIII. The Adjustable Universe 125
+ XIX. Seeing Love 132
+ XX. The Dignity of Labor 139
+ XXI. Above the Commonplace of Sin 146
+ XXII. The Investment of a Life 154
+ XXIII. Thought Planting 161
+ XXIV. The Rosary of Tears 168
+ XXV. The Hearthstone of the Heart 175
+ XXVI. The Unoared Sea 182
+
+
+
+
+ I
+
+ UNFINISHED RAINBOWS
+
+
+The rainbow was only a fragment of an arch because the needed sunshine
+was withheld. Had the sunlight been permitted to permeate all the
+atmosphere with its golden glow, the arch would have spanned the entire
+heavens.
+
+This is the reason why, in hours of sorrow, we do not grasp the
+fullness of God’s promise; we permit the denser clouds of doubt and
+faithlessness to keep the light of God from shining through our griefs;
+or, with a little faith, we get a gleam of light that gives us but a
+tiny fragment of the bow.
+
+While all the operations of this natural world are tokens of God’s
+unfailing thoughtfulness in keeping his covenant with man, a great
+event has made the rainbow peculiarly the embodiment of that thought.
+Looking from the narrow window of the wave-tossed ark, upon the
+silent grandeur of a world slowly arising from the waters of an
+universal flood, Noah beheld the rainbow and rejoiced in the blest
+assurance, that, while the things of man are subject to the ravages
+of time and destruction of contending elements, the things of God
+are always stable and secure. The most permanent products of man’s
+hand and mind are soon swept away, but the things of God endure, and
+continue faithful, in working out their appointed courses. Through
+storm or calm, events march with steady, unceasing tread, knowing
+that God’s roads are never worn, and God’s bridges never tremble and
+fall. Above the placid, mysterious world, calmly emerging from the
+muddy, wreck-strewn waters, was the peaceful, radiant bow, smiling
+in confidence upon him and his companions. The world had changed,
+but the rainbow was just as it had always been, stately, serene,
+and unaffrighted. The crumbling, flood-torn earth had not weakened
+its foundations, the drenching rains had not faded its colors, the
+hurrying, wind-swept clouds could not disturb it. Though it were made
+out of hurrying light and drifting mist it would not be swayed or moved
+even a little. Under its archway walked the guarding angels of God.
+Over the waters came the clear voice once heard in Eden, uttering the
+promise, “And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over the
+earth, that the bow shall be seen in the cloud: and I will remember my
+covenant.”
+
+That is a sweeping promise that is literally fulfilled in nature. All
+clouds carry rainbows. Most of them are never seen by us because we
+lack the necessary keenness of vision, or the proper point of view
+to behold their woven colors; many are only partially seen because
+something intervenes and prevents a perfect intersection of heavenly
+sunlight with our earth-born mists; many are within the vision of
+all observing men; but, whether we see it or not, for every cloud
+there is a scarf of red and orange and yellow and green and blue and
+scarlet and purple. So, in spiritual matters, we find that for every
+sorrow there are beautiful assurances of God’s presence and unwavering
+covenant-keeping power. If we do not see them it is not God’s fault,
+for the light of his faithfulness transfixes every cloud that arises
+above his earth-born children.
+
+There are the clouds of bereavement. The Death Angel defied your
+love-locked doors and bolted windows. Heeding neither your cry nor
+your pleadings, he entered your home and pushed aside the doctor and
+attending nurses and friends, and touching the heart of your loved
+one, stilled it to sleep. Your grief was such that you did not see how
+you could live. The home seemed empty and strangely silent. The entire
+pathway seemed shrouded in the somber shadows of your grief. Life was
+a desolation. But you did not give up in despair. There was a bow in
+the cloud. An arch of seven brilliant hues reached from one horizon
+to another horizon, and you knew that the One in whom you had placed
+your trust had proven true. He had not forgotten you. Looking at the
+rainbow, the token of his covenant, you read in its mingled colors the
+words of the Lord Jesus, “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that
+believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever
+liveth and believeth in me shall never die.” In your sorrow you found
+that the bow of God’s promises never trembles.
+
+You were facing financial disaster. All your investments had proven
+bad. You had been misled by false counsel. The savings of years had
+been swept away by one fell swoop of disaster, and with them had gone
+all the fond plans for the future of your family and loved ones. Your
+head reeled as you felt the earth giving way beneath you; you were
+about to close your eyes in despair, when suddenly, in the darkest
+part of the overshadowing cloud, you saw the rainbow. God had not
+forgotten you. Amid the whirl and destruction of things his promises
+never trembled. Its gleaming colors told you that you were not alone,
+and spelled such a message of hope and inspiration to your soul, that
+you smiled in the face of adversity. Here was the promise, “There is no
+want to them that fear Him.” You had never seen the beauty of those
+words before. You felt the thrill of a new life and the confidence that
+you once placed in riches, you now centered upon God.
+
+There were the dark clouds of misplaced friendship. You were confident
+that the one in whom you were placing your trust was worthy, but
+through that friendship you were betrayed, and misrepresented, and
+made the object of scorn and criticism. No cloud is darker than that,
+no sorrow is harder to bear, and yet you did not lose confidence in
+man. Above the feathered edges of the cloud was the rainbow of God’s
+promise, and you knew that if even father and mother forsook you, the
+Lord would take you up. The rainbow, as the symbol of God’s promise,
+said: “Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.”
+
+But some one says, “I have never been able to grasp the _fullness_ of
+these promises. Amid life’s clouds I cannot see the presence of the
+Almighty.” That is not God’s fault, but because one hinders the coming
+of the light. If you do not permit the Spirit of God to shine upon
+your sorrow with its golden light, the ministration of the rainbow
+to your sorrow-smitten soul will never be complete. The comforts
+of God are known only by those who are willing to receive his holy
+ministrations. The rainbow is never finished for the one who refuses
+to receive Christ fully and completely into his life. He is the Light
+of the world, and his presence always brings the promises of the
+Father to their fullest possible earthly revelation and application.
+His revelations are always complete and as comforting as they are
+beautiful. His clear light of goodness has always been making battle
+against the darkness of sin’s mists and fogs. He is never satisfied
+until his love has intercepted every overshadowing cloud so that when
+you behold the streaming banners of the bow, that always follows and
+never precedes a storm, you may know that you, through him, have
+already gotten the victory. Light triumphs. The overshadowing cloud is
+pierced. Instead of somberness there is beauty.
+
+The earthly rainbows will never be complete. Here we behold at best
+only a segment of a perfect circle. We have but a one-world view and
+therefore can behold but half the rainbow. In heaven we shall see the
+completed circle, as John beheld it in his vision and exclaimed, with
+rapturous delight, “There was a rainbow round about the throne.” So
+glorious is the light of the great, white throne, and the face, and the
+raiment of Him that sat upon it, that to angelic vision it is nestled
+in the center of a perfectly rounded bow of brilliant hue.
+
+The rainbow can never be destroyed, for the light of Christ can never
+fade. Ever about the throne of God, in perfect circle, shall gleam the
+steady, colored token of God’s faithfulness through all time and all
+eternity. The multitude of white-robed ones that worship before the
+throne are those who have come out “of great tribulation,” they are
+those who have “overcome through the blood of the Lamb,” therefore it
+is fitting that the one choicest treasure saved from the natural world
+in which they fought their battles, and won their victories, should be
+the rainbow, the richly colored symbol of God’s faithfulness and mercy.
+What emotions thrill our souls in this world when we look upon the
+rainbow! What memories shall sweep through our souls when we behold the
+rainbow that is ever round about the great white throne of God!
+
+
+
+
+ II
+
+ GATHERING SUNSETS
+
+
+The sunset is the sheaf of the day’s activities, wherein are bound all
+the roses and poppies and fruits and grains of the passing hours, for
+the experiences of life are constantly coming to full harvest. Weary
+with toil and worn with watching, we do not see the riches of to-day;
+or, stirred by some new ambition, our eyes become so fixed upon the
+future, that to-day’s golden grain is trampled under foot and lost.
+Instead of facing the morrow’s morn, rich with garnered treasures,
+we greet it with empty hands. We are not householders seeking
+strong-walled dwellings and broad, extending acres, but are careless,
+nomadic folk, wandering aimlessly from day to day, as gypsies wander
+from town to town. Having all things within our grasp, we possess
+nothing. When touched by the hand of Death, and taken out of life, the
+world is no more disturbed than by the bursting of a bubble on the
+ocean wave.
+
+Sunsets are sheaves, and the brilliancy of their coloring is God’s
+way of calling our attention to their value. The waving of so many
+golden and scarlet banners, by a myriad of unseen hands, should awaken
+the most careless soul to the consciousness that something mighty is
+transpiring. Such banners and pageantry passing through our streets
+would awaken the entire city to wonderment and concern. For what king
+are the banners waving? For what worthy cause are all these ensigns
+thrown upon the wind? What victory is celebrated here? Yet the sunsets
+pass unheeded, and the golden sheaf of another day is trampled under
+careless feet, and left to mildew and decay.
+
+The art of gathering sunsets, the grasping of each day’s experiences
+with firm and constant hold, is one to covet. Days are not something to
+“pass through.” Each day is like unto an acre of land, through which
+one may hurry, as in a train, without thought of right or ownership; or
+unto an acre of land which he holds in perpetual ownership, adding that
+much to his estate, and increasing his income through all the days that
+follow. Rather, it is a sheaf of grain, supplying food and affording
+strength for an ever-increasing work which he may throw away, or keep
+for future use. Sunset time is harvest time, and the evening hour is
+the one in which to fill full the granaries and treasure chests for
+days unborn. Sunsets should be bound with the golden cords of memory
+and kept forever.
+
+The pathway of life grows brightest for those who have wasted fewest
+of their yesterdays. Hours well spent and safely garnered never lose
+the brightness of their sunshine. It always glows in the sparkle of
+the eye, in the brightness of a winning smile, in the warm atmosphere
+of helpfulness with which they are surrounded. Hours spent in sin and
+dissipation have no luster to cast upon the afterdays, but goodness
+is always luminous. Hours of right-living may be likened to blazing
+suns that never cease to glow. The ability to retain their brightness
+means an ever-increasing splendor of life. It is this that the inspired
+writer must have had in mind when he wrote that the pathway of the just
+is as a shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.
+
+The secret of perfection along any line of endeavor is the gathering
+in and retaining the good, at the same time sorting out and
+permanently eliminating that which is bad. It is a work of patience
+and progression. It requires the fruitage of many days, the garnered
+glories of many sunsets, to endow one with the riches of genius; and
+not one single day should be lost. The lapidist, whose magic touch
+changes pebbles into glittering jewels to adorn the neck of beauty; the
+sculptor, whose mallet-stroke is so accurate that rough, ill-shapen
+stones become forms of grace to inspire the generations; the
+artist, whose brush quickens the common dust and clay into marvelous
+paintings of unfading color and undying sentiment; the botanist, whose
+carefulness transforms barren waysides into gardens, and the desert
+places into banqueting halls; the metallurgist, whose powerful hand
+takes the knotted lumps of ore and fashions them into the bronze doors
+of a great cathedral--all these represent that priceless frugality that
+will not permit a sunset to escape. Their first crude efforts were
+sheaves of rich experiences, which they garnered and stored away in the
+treasure chests of memory. They had the bright light of their first
+sunsets to add to the morning light of their second endeavors. They
+continued to store the brightness of the passing experiences. Day by
+day the light grew brighter, until at last there came the perfect day,
+when the whole world stood amazed at the perfection of their handiwork.
+The loss of one sunset would have faded the light and dimmed the glory
+of their final achievement. All perfect art is but gathered sunsets.
+
+This law holds in the matter of spiritual perfection. God does much for
+us at conversion, when, through faith in him, we are changed by his
+grace into new men and new women. It is like a lost planet finding its
+central sun, and resuming its accustomed place, and finding light, and
+warmth, and life, and joy again. Wonderful indeed is the power of God
+as manifested in the conversion of any individual, but conversion is
+not perfection. Perfection is something that the inspired writer urges
+us “to go unto.” “And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your
+faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge temperance; and
+to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; and to godliness
+brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity.”
+
+Do not permit the colors of triumph to fade from your first day’s sky.
+Hold on to that sunset. Each day will furnish its added beam of light.
+Faith, hope, and love, and all the Christian graces will become more
+beautiful for you, to you, and in you. The pathway will become brighter
+and brighter. Life will have fewer shadows because the light falls upon
+you from so many angles and becomes more perfectly diffused. To-morrow
+can have no hindering uncertainties, for the light of the past
+experiences illumines the future. There is light for every darkened
+corner, and one may rejoice that all things are working together for
+good, because we do love God. Gathered sunsets make life’s trail ablaze
+with light.
+
+Let no to-day become yesterday, except in the calendar, as we reckon
+time. Each day must become part of us as we live in an ever-present
+now. The same alphabet we learned in childhood is ours to-day. Because
+we did not forget it with the setting of the sun, it served us to-day
+as we spell out, in polysyllables, a newly discovered truth. The
+alphabet did not fade with the death of the day we learned it, so that
+it is now part of our lives. As we cannot think apart from the words
+we learned long ago; and as we cannot calculate, save as we use the
+first-learned characters from one to ten; so, in the developing of the
+soul, we must not lose one single hour of prayer or inspiration of a
+noble purpose.
+
+Both building and growing are alike in this--they are processes of
+“adding to.” Brick added to brick and timber added to timber means a
+stately building. Cell added to cell means growth of body and increase
+in stature. But handling brick is not enough, they must be placed with
+a purpose and kept firmly fixed in the place desired. The brick of
+yesterday must be where it can have added to it the brick of to-day.
+Physical growth depends upon the keeping the cells of yesterday for a
+foundation upon which to build the cells of to-day. Christian living is
+similar. We build a character and grow a soul but the process is the
+same, with both character and soul. We gain by adding to. Therefore
+we must not permit any of our sunsets to fade away. All that we have
+gained through prayer and Christian service must be held to brighten
+each new morn. The spiritual victory over temptation, the answer to
+our intercessory prayers, the moment of spiritual illumination as we
+read the Bible, all these are priceless experiences upon which to add
+the newer conquests of to-day. We must not permit the disease of sin
+to sap our vitality and destroy the growth of yesterday. We must guard
+our spiritual health that we may grow. This is what Christ meant when
+he said: “Men ought always to pray.” The culture of the soul is an
+eternal process. Days must not pass; they must remain as part of our
+own selves.
+
+
+
+
+ III
+
+ BEYOND THE CURTAINED CLOUDS
+
+
+One of the rarest treasures of the May time is the richness and purity
+of the sky. The winter wraps the heavens in robes of somber hue as
+though in mourning for the summer dead; but at the coming of the first
+white cloud, and sound of first lark’s song, the sky seems to melt in
+tenderness, and assume the softest, richest hue of blue. As far as the
+eye can reach there is nothing but blue--soft, rich, warm, tender,
+melting, soul-entrancing blue. Blue, as clear as an unshadowed midland
+lake. Blue as a translucent sapphire without a flaw to disturb its
+gleaming surface. A great arch of caressing tenderness through which
+the white-flecked clouds ride in state, as they sail majestically from
+one port of mystery to another port of mystery. Among the richest
+treasures of the spring must be mentioned the deepening of the blue and
+the hanging of the snow-white curtains of the clouds.
+
+But life’s horizon is ever draped with rich folds of white and blue,
+that hang like silken curtains, to hide, with tantalizing secrecy,
+the mysteries that lie beyond. Day by day the curtains hide their
+treasure-chests of mystery, tempting us to strike tents and journey
+toward them. With the eagerness with which little children watch the
+unwrapping of a Christmas package we watch the moving of these clouds,
+trusting that each new shifting of the curtains will make the coveted
+revelation, but as we journey on they still evade us.
+
+Conservative people, ones who never startle themselves or their friends
+by doing anything new, not that they are averse to doing anything new
+but simply because they are not mentally capable of entertaining new
+ideas, say that the mysteries that lie behind the curtained clouds are
+childish fancies and youth’s illusions; and that energy expended in
+reaching the buried treasure at the rainbow’s end were as fruitful an
+enterprise. Those of us who have endeavored to solve these mysteries
+know better, for we have found that the curtained clouds that hide, are
+the ones that, like banners, guide us to the things we really need.
+
+Man must not be unmindful of the ministry of mystery. Over against
+everything enigmatic God has given man an insatiable desire to find
+out the hidden meaning. Yielding to that divinely implanted impulse
+develops powers that otherwise would atrophy. Behold the benefits
+of these endeavors as they lifted the human race out of stagnation
+and taught it the way of progress. Tented in the low swamplands,
+eating roots and bark, man saw these curtains that suggested to his
+hunger-pinched body the thought of a banqueting-hall where he might
+feed. His quest never brought him to the ladened tables of his desire,
+but as he journeyed he found grain and fruits and nuts and berries,
+substantial food for a full twelvemonth. Dwelling amid the sick and
+dying, man saw the moving of the curtains that God hangs along our
+sky-line, and felt that, somewhere, beyond their folds, must exist
+a spring, whose living waters would not only heal the sick but give
+the drinker perpetual youth. The spring was never found, but as man
+journeyed westward in the quest he found a land whose liberties and
+institutions crowd a century of blessings into every decade. Toiling
+with small recompense, like some dull beast of burden, man saw the
+clouds that suggested a palace of ease and luxury. He failed to find
+the palace of his dreams, but on the way he discovered labor-saving
+machinery that has made his labor a delight, and given to every laborer
+a home surpassing in comforts the baron’s stately castle.
+
+Because of the ministry of mystery he has been able to discover
+the depth and values of his own soul. In his effort to reach the
+curtained clouds man has had to rally his forces, and, to meet
+arising exigencies, he has been compelled to draw upon the resources
+of his nature, until he startled himself with his newly discovered
+possibilities and powers. He trained his body to wrestle against
+physical odds; he trained his mind to master the handicaps of
+ignorance; he found the glittering sword of courage with which to
+destroy defeating fear; he learned the value of faith and hope with
+which to enrich the soul when disaster would impoverish. Without the
+effort aroused by the cloudy curtains of mystery, he could not have
+found himself, and perfected his work of invention, art and letters.
+
+The cloud curtains are also the temple curtains beyond which men are
+ever seeking God. As the pillared cloud led Israel victoriously through
+troubled waters and desert sands, so the mysteries of life and death,
+and the natural world in which we live, have led the human mind to
+religious contemplation. Man found himself entangled in the maze of
+sin, helplessly confused amid the ways that wound about, and crossed,
+and led to still more hopeless entanglements. Despair pointed to the
+narrow, tangled ways and said, “There is nothing better.” Looking
+upward, the distant clouds spoke of a larger world and greater freedom,
+and beckoned man to try again. By faith he was saved. To a thoughtful,
+reverent man, all nature reveals and conceals the One who brought it
+into existence. An awakened soul will never be satisfied until he finds
+God. He longs to see the Hand that parts the curtains and hurls the
+lightnings. He yearns to see the Face whose smile fills the sky with
+sunlight, and transfigures the cloudy curtains, until they become the
+portals of the heavenly temple. While mystery is not the mother of
+religion, it is, and ever has been, an important part of the Christian
+faith. “It is the glory of God to conceal a thing,” says King Solomon.
+He might have added, “It is the glory of man to search until he find
+it.”
+
+It was from behind the curtained clouds that God spoke, introducing
+Jesus as the world’s Redeemer, saying, “This is my beloved Son, hear
+ye him.” It was an overhanging canopy of cloud that curtained the
+disciples on the Mount of Transfiguration, and it was in this curtained
+tabernacle that they beheld the glory of their Lord. To hide the shame
+of those who crucified His Son, God hung a curtain of cloud about the
+sun, enveloping Calvary in the shades of night. It was a curtain of
+cloud that hid the ascending Lord from the sight of the wondering,
+astonished, fear-filled disciples. It was from amid their soft drapery
+that the angels spoke of his coming again, and it is upon the clouds
+that the Son of man shall come in his glory to judge the nations. From
+the glory of the Patmos vision, John exclaimed, “Behold he cometh
+with clouds; and every eye shall see him!” To the very end Christ is
+surrounded with the curtained clouds of mystery. “And I looked, and
+behold a white cloud, and upon the cloud One sat like unto the Son of
+man, having on his head a golden crown, and in his hand a sharp sickle.
+And he that sat on the cloud thrust in his sickle on the earth, and the
+earth was reaped.”
+
+Mystery has a large part in the Christian faith, not to discourage, but
+to encourage the prayerful, aspiring souls of men. The drapery of cloud
+hangs all about, not to defeat, but to challenge. It is no illusion
+like a great desert distance filled with the blue of emptiness, that
+strews the sands with the bones of those whom it deceives, but is as
+real as the curtains of the ancient tabernacle that held the symbol of
+Jehovah’s presence. Life’s mysteries are often most tantalizing; its
+problems artfully made difficult of solution; but always within their
+depths is God.
+
+To-day, for our development, it is the glory of God to conceal a
+matter, but it is the promise that some day we shall see, not through
+the mists darkly, but face to face with God. Some day we shall
+pass beyond the cloudy portals, and the vision of God and our own
+immortality shall lie before our enraptured vision. The puzzle of life
+shall there find perfect solution. The equation in which life is now
+the unknown quantity shall find its answer. In that cloudless land we
+shall know even as we are known. The shadows of death are the last
+shadow the soul of the righteous shall ever see. Until that glad day
+comes, let us fit ourselves, through prayer and goodness, to receive
+such revelations of the mystery of godliness as God may care to reveal
+as he parts the curtains of our life’s horizon, knowing that we journey
+to a perfect, unclouded day.
+
+
+
+
+ IV
+
+ TILLING THE SKY
+
+
+Man, that must till the soil for the building of his body, must also
+till the sky for the growing of his soul. This was the thought of a
+little woman among the Ozarks, who had given a long and beautiful life
+in training her people of the hills. It was Commencement Day in the
+college she had founded. Gathered about her were the young men and
+young women from the humble homes of those rugged hills. They were now
+leaving her sheltering care to “commence” life. She was such a tiny
+bit of woman, but through the lens of tears in those students’ eyes,
+she was greater and more stately than any queen. Her eyes gleamed with
+a love-lighted moisture, her lips trembled with great emotions as she
+rose to offer her last words of counsel. She knew that very soon they
+would be beyond the reach of her voice, and her desire was to write
+just one more message upon the pages of their memories, a message that
+should never be erased. Breathlessly we awaited her words, which were
+these: “My children, whatever you do, or wherever you go, this one task
+I place before you. Continue your study of astronomy, for there is
+nothing that so uplifts and widens one’s life as a study of the sky.”
+
+These were not the words of a mere dreamer, but of a very practical
+woman, and were words of wisdom uttered to young men and young women
+who were practical students, yearning to make their lives count. These
+students were trained observers who would travel that they might see
+things as they are; they were scholars who would study in order to make
+discoveries. They were to enter the strain and struggle of competition.
+They were to match their brawn and brain against honest rivalry and
+unscrupulous dishonesty. They were not entering paradise, yet, amid
+it all, the one who yearned most for their unmeasured success and
+honor, urged them to cast their plowshare deep into the wide expanse of
+overarching blue, whose owner is God, but whose harvests belong to the
+reaper.
+
+The little woman was very practical, for a man must not permit the
+narrowing influences of earthly endeavor to cramp and destroy the soul.
+This is the tendency of most of our daily duties, even those of the
+most fascinating and absorbing scientific character. A man may follow
+the footsteps of Luther Burbank and devote his life to the study of
+plants, and through his magic touch, may bring beauty of form and
+richness of flavor to bud and blossom, vegetable and fruit, and yet
+the very fascination of the work may bind him into a narrow world of
+just buds and blossoms, vegetables and fruits. He may, like Edison or
+Steinmetz, choose the fairyland of electricity; or, like Madame Curé,
+enter the enchanted realm of radio-activity; or, like Morse and Bell
+and Davenport, become wizards in the world of invention, and find a
+joy that is as perilous as it is unutterable. Any realm of nature or
+invention, absorbs and fascinates as clover blossoms claim the bee.
+He who studies will find that a lifetime is too short to fathom the
+unmeasured depths of an atom or explore the mysteries of one drop of
+dew.
+
+But the very fascination of these things is their peril, for the
+tendency of any line of endeavor is to narrow and to restrict one’s
+life. One need not yield to this tendency, but the chances are that
+he will. Darwin reports spending several delightful years studying
+fish-worms, but while engaged in this absorbing task he lost all
+taste for music. Ericsson had a similar experience. Planning, with
+steel armor, to remake the navies of the world, he refused his soul
+all sound of blended tones, endeavoring to feed his whole nature on
+armor plate. It was not until Ole Bull, against Ericsson’s desire,
+entered his factory, and began playing his violin, that the great
+inventor became a weeping, willing captive, kneeling at the shrine of
+music, tearfully confessing that he had then found that which he had
+lost, and for which his soul had been craving. When a man, through the
+microscope, begins a life study of the infinitesimal, he is apt to get
+his own ego into the field of vision and magnify himself. On the other
+hand, considering only his own achievements in art or architecture,
+one is apt to exaggerate his own importance saying, “Is not this great
+Babylon, which I have builded?” However, when he begins to study the
+stars and comprehend something of the vastness of the plan upon which
+God has made the heaven and the earth, he will see his own littleness
+and exclaim with the psalmist, “When I consider thy heavens, the work
+of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what
+is man?”
+
+No earth-made ceiling is high enough for a growing brain. Each
+individual must have a God-made sky in which to lift his head and think
+the thoughts of the Almighty. The earthly thing upon which we set our
+affection and which we think so essential may mean the wreck and ruin
+of the soul. It is easy to neglect the brain, and direct all one’s
+energies toward gaining earthly possessions, not for the opportunities
+afforded for benevolence, but that one may dress in style and enjoy a
+social life, not knowing that it is far better to be a great thinker
+than to be the best dressed man in Paris. Poverty may be infinitely
+better than wealth when the individual has a familiar sky above his
+head and a good book in his hand. How insignificant are earth’s
+greatest obstacles compared with the immensities of stellar space!
+Nothing can hinder the man who is accustomed to measure the distances
+between stars. With his eyes on the distant suns, poverty becomes a
+mole-hill; poor health, but a breath of mist; and success is within
+easy reach. It is good for one to till the sky until he learns the
+vastness of his Creator’s thoughts.
+
+One of the richest harvests garnered from the sky is a revelation of
+the accuracy with which God works. The stars do not dwell in a land of
+“Hit and Miss,” and eclipses are not accidental happenings. No ship
+cuts the waves of the sea with half the accuracy as star and planet
+move in their appointed courses. There are no swervings nor deviations
+from the plan of God, so that an astronomer can calculate the exact
+second when a comet will return from its long journey through unseen
+realms; as well as foretell the conjunction of planets a thousand years
+from now. God has appointed an exact second for the rising of the sun,
+and another exact second for its setting, and man knows what both of
+them are a thousand years before the day arrives. Then let us till
+the sky until we learn that He who planned the high-arched blue, and
+marked orbits for stars and planets, is also the Designer of our own
+lives, and has set for us a divine purpose somewhat like the vastness
+of the sky. Yielding ourselves to God as the heavenly constellations
+yield themselves to their controlling powers, each one has a greater
+life to live, and a more sublime destiny to attain, than his fondest
+dreams. How foolish it is to till the soil for money, and miss the very
+essence of life, by failing to utilize the sky that yields such tender
+ministries with so little effort!
+
+It is well to look upward and learn a lesson of patience, for the open
+sky teaches that the plans of God are not worked out in a day. The
+journey from star-dust to harvest-ladened planet peopled by a happy
+family of contented men, requires many millions of years, yet, from the
+beginning it was in the mind of God. He has never altered his plan,
+but with divine accuracy the work has passed from stage to stage of
+development with perfect progression. With such an example, we must
+learn patience and not become discouraged when we cannot see the end
+from the beginning. A child can make a shelf full of mud pies in one
+summer’s afternoon, and they will last no longer than the first rain.
+Hasty work means wasted effort. Life that endures must be planned of
+God, fulfilled with astronomical accuracy, and most patiently developed.
+
+How wonderful the brain that is molded after something of the vastness
+of the open sky, and how thrilling to walk and till the fields of
+heavenly blue! We were meant for those heights. It does not require
+a very great elevation in the pure atmosphere of a Western State to
+push back the horizon forty and fifty miles. This planet is not the
+objective of life. It is only the hilltop where God has placed us for a
+little while that we may catch a vision as wide as the universe and as
+high as his own White Throne.
+
+
+
+
+ V
+
+ UNQUARRIED STATUES
+
+
+Michael Angelo, with his statues of David and Moses, proved that
+Phidias and Praxiteles had not exhausted the marvelous possibilities
+of the art of sculpture. Rodin, with his “Thinker,” has shown,
+while Phidias and Praxiteles demonstrated the possibility of giving
+immortality to the unsurpassed beauty of Grecian form, and while
+Michael Angelo revealed the power of expressing grace, as in David,
+and commanding leadership, as in Moses, that the achievements of these
+two schools of art were the Pillars of Hercules, not marking the limit
+of art, but the open gateway to uncharted seas and undiscovered realms
+in the art of reshaping marble. There is not a lofty sentiment of the
+soul, a struggling aspiration toward goodness, or form of idealism
+that cannot be made to live in marble, and exert undying influence.
+There is more than “an angel in the block of marble.” There are all the
+hopes and fears, joys and sorrows, laughter and tears, longings and
+aspirations, desires and despairs; there is all that is manly, noble,
+and heroic, lying in any block of marble awaiting the coming of the
+liberating chisel. What inspiration to the young artist of to-day, and
+what joy to all lovers of the beautiful! The depths of earth are stored
+with a wealth of unquarried statues.
+
+The progress of civilization is ofttimes hindered because youth, in
+thinking of statues, consider the pedestals upon which they rest rather
+than the depth from which they were quarried. They very often do not
+care to begin life at the right place. Because they covet praise, and
+enjoy the warm, congenial atmosphere of appreciation, they shun the
+depths, hours of loneliness, the unrequited toil of preparation, and
+the laborious efforts of beginning. Modeling clay is an important part
+of the achievement; but getting the proper marble is one of the first
+essentials.
+
+The experience of Michael Angelo is common to all men of real
+achievement: he found that the market place does not offer marble
+blocks of sufficient size for him to work out his divine conception.
+Hucksters and makers of money in the market place seldom understand
+ambitious youth that asks for larger blocks than they are capable
+of handling. Their idea of a great thought is an ornament for the
+mantelpiece. But men of achievement will not be daunted. Locking
+his studio, Angelo went to superintend the breaking of blocks in
+the mountain of Carrara, and when the sluggish-minded people of the
+mountains refused to do his bidding, he opened new quarries in Seravez.
+Before he could carve his statue he knew that he must quarry a block of
+marble sufficiently large. He knew also that the block of marble could
+be had for the digging. He found what he needed but did not exhaust the
+treasury. The world still has the material, richer than that which made
+Angelo and Rodin famous, awaiting the youth of ambition to undertake
+great things, and the willingness, at any cost, to superintend the
+breaking of the marble blocks from the buried storehouses.
+
+The pleasure of nature is to store her raw material in seemingly
+inaccessible strongholds. She does not willingly yield them to men
+lacking vision and great conceptions. If they were of easy access,
+common men would crush them to make roads for donkeys to tramp over.
+Nature’s treasures are too valuable for ignorance to destroy, so she
+locks them in secret depths or inaccessible heights, awaiting the
+coming of the man of genius. If only a man yields himself to the divine
+leadings, and catches a vision of a statue like Moses, or a façade
+for the Church of San Lorenzo, or for a mausoleum for the Medici,
+no mountainside is too steep to chisel a roadway through the jagged
+rocks, no morass so yielding but that a solid highway may be erected,
+no water so troubled but that boats may safely transport the precious
+marble. He will not depend upon hirelings nor lean upon borrowed
+strength. The dream of beauty must be wrought in marble, the unquarried
+statue must be lifted from obscurity and made to live in some public
+place, therefore he will personally attend to the breaking of the
+blocks.
+
+It is not an easy matter to live out a divine idea and make it a thing
+tangible and real for a critical world to examine and criticize and
+afterwards love and venerate. Sluggards and lovers of ease cannot do
+it. To them an unquarried statue is only a stone. For centuries no one
+has given it any attention; why should they? They would rather have
+something to eat and drink. A cushioned chair is far more comfortable
+to sit on, and a potato is much more substantial food. What they want
+is something to eat, and a place in which to lounge, and because they
+do not see the value of great ideas they can never be forgotten when
+dead, for they were never known while living.
+
+He lives who forgets to live and concentrates all his powers in
+bringing to light the vision of his beauty-loving soul. It may be
+the beauty of art or the beauty of worthy living; it may be the
+beauty of perfect workmanship in shop or factory, or the beauty of a
+wholesome influence flowing from noble character; it may be loveliness
+of sympathetic serving, or the beauty of aggressive battle for
+righteousness; it may take any one of many forms of exalted thinking
+and endeavor, yet its realization comes only when one eats, and drinks,
+and bends every energy, not for the sake of living, but for the
+realization of that which is more than living.
+
+How lamentable for a human life to end and find at the final judgment
+that all its days were of less value to the world than that of a coral
+polyp! How wonderful for one to be made out of dust, and after a while
+to crumble back into dust, and yet, refusing to grovel in the dust,
+leave the world richer, and better, and more beautiful, so that people
+of another age will breathe his name in reverence as they behold that
+which he hath wrought. Professor Finsen, the inventor of the “light
+cure,” was an invalid for many years, yet he labored like a slave, in
+the severest self-denial, to bring his invention, without compensation,
+to the service of the world’s sick and suffering. He had but one dread
+and that was the regret of dying, and leaving his little five-year-old
+boy without any memory of his father. He desired to live long enough
+to impress his face and life upon the memory of his son, that, in the
+after years, the growing man would never forget the one who toiled so
+earnestly for him. He did not want to be forgotten. How little did he
+dream of the immortality that was his! He found an unquarried statue
+in the sunbeam where others had overlooked it. Through ceaseless toil
+he brought it within the vision of the world and gained a name that
+countless ages will not forget.
+
+How wonderful to be the son of such a man! And though the image of the
+father’s face be blotted from the memory, the statue that he carved
+will help and heal the generations. How wonderful to be the son of such
+a man, but how much more wonderful it is to be the man himself! To
+fight with optimistic heart against the ravages of disease, to overcome
+the natural yearnings of a father’s heart, to endure the most slavish
+toil without thought or hope of compensation, to be a sick man fighting
+for others who were sick; a dying man making battle against disease
+that others may not taste of death!
+
+This is the joy unspeakable, to know that life is not in vain, but
+everlastingly worth while. The visions shall not fade as summer clouds
+at twilight time, but shall live in that which is as imperishable as
+marble. Each one can say with deep resolve: “Men shall behold the
+beauty of my soul by beholding the beauty of my daily life. Since
+words are blossoms, I shall, with gracious speech, show my friends how
+choice a garden I have planted in my heart. Since every blossom bears
+a seed I shall take pleasure in planting them within the hearts of
+others, that the beauty of my life may live in them. Out of the marble
+block that it has been mine to break from its hiding place, I shall
+carve the image I have treasured so long within my heart.” To do this
+is to find a joy unspeakable. Life is not useless, but gloriously worth
+while. Eating, and drinking, and toiling for that which is far more
+than life, one can never die.
+
+
+
+
+ VI
+
+ THE AGES TO COME
+
+
+No matter how earnestly we may love our life-calling, and rejoice in
+our chosen field of activity, there are hours when the easiest task
+becomes irksome and its daily repetition seems unbearable. However
+healthy the soul and robust the moral nature, a constant onslaught of
+sorrow may wound like a poisoned dart, filling the soul with painful
+forebodings. Beholding the transitoriness of life, and the apparent
+frailty and uncertainty of those things upon which we place our
+heaviest dependence, we become depressed, and feel that nothing is
+permanent and that life’s products are but empty shadows. These are
+common experiences, and their frequent repetition does not lessen their
+depressive power. Coming upon us to-day they are just as hurtful as
+when they challenged us for the first time.
+
+That we may overcome these disagreeable tendencies, and live a life
+victorious, Paul revealed the secret of his own achievements. To him
+work never became drudgery, sorrow never festered or left a feverish
+wound, while even the most commonplace incident was of the deepest
+significance because he had learned to acquire and maintain a deep
+perspective that placed each moment of time in the white light of
+eternity. He believed that we are not created for the hour but for the
+centuries, and that we must work not so much for the present hour as
+for the years that are yet to be. The one purpose of every word and
+deed, to Paul, was to “show the ages to come the exceeding riches of
+God’s grace.”
+
+As the prolific and luxuriant vegetation of the carboniferous age
+bordered the lakes with ferns, the rivers with reeds, and the hillsides
+and valleys with gigantic trees of grotesque form, that, in the ages to
+come, man might have the exhaustless coalbeds to protect him from the
+cold; as the coral polyps, buried beneath the waves, love and labor and
+die, generation after generation, until a coral island lifts its head
+to receive the kisses of the passing waves and extend the arms of a
+protecting harbor, that, in the ages to come, the storm-tossed mariners
+may find safe shelter against the stormy wind and wave; so you and I
+are to love, and labor, and die, not for ourselves, but that the ages
+to come, through our goodness and fidelity, may behold the riches of
+God’s grace.
+
+This does not mean that we are to so bury the present in the future
+that our lives shall consist of nothing save vague dreams and
+idle contemplations. It means the opposite. We are to magnify the
+present and give it increasing value by crowding it with an eternal
+significance. We are not to drop to-day into the silent ocean of the
+future and see it fade from sight, but into to-day we are to crowd
+to-morrow and all the other to-morrows that shall follow. Instead of
+losing the drop of water in Niagara we are to crowd all the dash and
+splendor and power of Niagara into the single drop of water; instead
+of losing the dew in the ocean, we crowd the ocean into the dewdrop;
+instead of burying the present into the future, we gather all eternity
+and crowd it into a single lifetime, so that every second of time
+becomes as precious as a thousand years of eternity, and the smallest
+task we have to perform becomes as sacred as the songs of the angels.
+
+When one possesses this conception of life that crowds a vast eternity
+within the compass of a single individual life, no toil can ever become
+drudgery. Every deed has divine significance. The most ordinary task
+will be performed carefully, knowing that it must stand the scrutiny
+and criticisms of the passing centuries. We labor then with the various
+elements of life, as the artists of Venice toil with their priceless
+mosaics, willing to spend a lifetime of painstaking endeavor in
+forming a single feature of a saint, knowing that long after they
+themselves have ceased to toil the wisdom of untold centuries shall
+review their efforts to either praise or blame. Hitherto we have
+despised the commonplace things that fell to our hands, while we
+busied ourselves searching for some great thing worthy of our effort,
+with the result that nothing has been accomplished; now we find, that
+that only is truly great which is commonplace. Divine opportunities
+are everywhere. In the low-browed man upon the street we see the
+possibility of an ennobled and redeemed humanity. In the waif, crying
+from hunger, we see the center of world-wide and eternal destinies.
+Words are winged messengers, so we learn to study them with care, and
+speak them with the precision with which a musician strikes his chords.
+Divine destinies are depending upon the perfection with which we toil,
+adding a charm to every endeavor that never fades with weariness. There
+can be no drudgery to him who has a perspective eternity long.
+
+This conception of life which Paul gives us will carry us unharmed
+through all the misfortunes of life. It is impossible for us to escape
+sorrow. By rigid economy we may save our money only to have it stolen
+by a deceitful friend; we may build a home, only to find it purchased
+and occupied by another; loved ones, more precious than our own lives,
+have been lured from our side by the hand of death. These hours are
+naturally dark and of tortuous length, and if it were not for the fact
+that we have learned to think in terms of eternity, we would die of a
+broken heart. But we do not die; we pass through them with triumphant
+tread. The soul sobs but does not bleed; the heart hurts but does
+not break. We are not living for this world alone; our horizon has
+been widened because we have been lifted to a higher level; we can
+now see two worlds; our faith sweeps onward as far as God can think.
+The earthly home for which we planned and toiled has passed into the
+hands of another, but we rejoice in the knowledge that we have a home,
+not made with toiling, blistered hands of earth, but one eternal in
+the heavens. Our loved ones no longer greet us at the table or occupy
+their accustomed places in the family circle, but we have not lost them
+forever. They have simply passed from time into eternity, and because
+we also are the children of eternity, they are still our own, and we
+shall see them once again. Thank God for the transforming power that
+comes into every human life when, by divine aid, one crowds eternal
+significance into his days, and works, not for himself, but for “the
+ages to come.”
+
+Paul’s view of life enables us to find perfect satisfaction in working
+with the frailties of time in building that which is immortal in
+character and service. Possessed with such a purpose, the spider’s
+web becomes a cable, dust becomes slabs of marble, and seconds
+becomes decades. There is nothing more fragile than a word, spoken in
+stammering weakness, but with a trembling desire to be of service,
+yet out of one word fitly spoken may be created an influence that
+sweeps heaven and earth. A faltering word of Christian testimony was
+spoken by a godly man made weak by an unconquerable embarrassment,
+but his utterance proved mighty. Lodging in the heart of Charles
+Spurgeon, it started him on his wonderful career that is yet shaking
+all Christendom. The smile of the face is far more delicate than
+the frailest blossom that opens its soft petals in obedience to the
+caressing influence of the sun, for its existence is but for the
+fraction of a second; yet one kindly, love-illumined look has been the
+force that has lifted multitudes of mortals out of despondency and
+uselessness, and made them the creators of mighty moral and religious
+forces. It was a smile that saved John G. Wooley for the cause of
+temperance. A smile, and a word, and the gift of a handkerchief were
+all that Frances E. Willard used to redeem one of the most notorious
+characters of Chicago, and make her one of God’s ministers of light
+among the fallen.
+
+When one learns to live with the light of eternity flooding his pathway
+there is not an event in life so small and insignificant that he
+cannot employ it to create, and afterward use it, to sustain eternal
+influences. There is joy now in living for Christ, but let us live,
+not for that joy alone, but that, in the ages to come, we may show the
+exceeding riches of God’s grace. Let them, through us, behold what the
+grace of God can do to save, to keep, to empower, and to make immortal
+such sin-smitten ones as we have been. This is the secret for making
+toil pleasant, sorrows helpless, and the humblest effort an enterprise
+of such character as crowds earth with richer meaning, and fills the
+heavens with new-found joys. Show them that the greatest of all known
+forces is a Christ-filled life.
+
+
+
+
+ VII
+
+ THE UNLOCKED DOOR OF TRUTH
+
+
+History has proven that the power of the “All Highest” War Lord is
+as weak as a baby’s arm compared with the power of the humblest
+individual who has entered into and taken possession of some great
+truth. A thousand lords and ladies were gathered within the Babylonian
+palace which was ablaze with light and filled with music. All hail to
+King Belshazzar! His praises were upon every lip. All honor to the
+royal family that had lifted the hanging gardens above the low-lying
+plains, who had swung gates of bronze and planned the mightiest city
+in the world. Every lip praised and every heart feared the power of
+the daring king. But when the finger of God wrote a message of fire
+upon the palace walls it was no longer Belshazzar who was ruler. The
+fate of king and lord and ladies was in the hand of Daniel. He alone
+of that great throng had seen and entered into the truth of temperance
+and self-control. Such was the sustaining power of that possessed
+truth that when the man-made king trembled, and a nation crumbled into
+oblivion, he alone stood unmoved and triumphant amid the wreck and
+chaos.
+
+Before the throne of ecclesiastical autocracy the rulers of the nations
+bowed in weakness and everlasting shame. The autocracy of superstition
+is the most merciless and deadly known, but when the power of Rome was
+at the zenith of her unscrupulous reign, Martin Luther, a common man
+with uncommon sense, discovered and entered into the great truth that
+“the just shall live by faith.” Entering into that truth, he found a
+power before which the claims of the Pope became insignificant, and by
+his boldness, brought religious liberty to the people, thus gaining
+universal love and immortality.
+
+Mary was Queen of England, and with that overzeal of religious bigotry,
+was ruling with unquestioned power and severity. Hugh Latimer was only
+a humble preacher, one of the least of the queen’s subjects, living
+among the poor, but beside him, Queen Mary sinks into everlasting
+contempt. The robes of fire wrapped his body in their golden folds,
+hiding him forever from the sight of man, but the world has not
+forgotten him. His dust knows no burial place, but because he lived in
+the sheltering tabernacle of a great truth he will live forever in the
+hearts of those who love religious tolerance, while the dust of Mary
+crumbles in the gruesome vault at Westminster Abbey, with no lip to
+sing her praises to the passing generations. Royal or ecclesiastical
+power is nothing compared with the enduring authority of a common man
+who has found, and entered into, and wholly and completely lives a
+great eternal truth of God.
+
+Truth incarnate in human life is almighty, but truth in the abstract is
+as helpless as is the dust of the Egyptian highways, which witnessed
+the world’s mightiest pageants, but which are unable to tell the
+story of mighty armies, royal cavalcades, and kingly processions that
+once tramped upon them. Truth has always existed. However conceited
+a religious leader may be, no one ever dared to presume himself
+the creator of a truth. Long before the world had settled upon its
+foundations, and the constellations of stars, like chandeliers, swayed
+and swung their pendants of light, all truth beat and throbbed within
+the heart of the Almighty. Throughout the beauty of verdant slope,
+crested wave, and starlit sky, these words of encouragement have ever
+rung: “Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” The
+truths of civilization have been in existence since creation, yet in
+every century heathenism has flourished. The truth about human freedom
+has always been, yet Rameses sat upon a throne and drove the Hebrews
+to their task, beating their backs with knotted thongs and murdering
+their children; the barons lived in palatial palaces fed in luxury,
+while serfs toiled for harvests which they could never gather, and
+starving, dared not plead for a morsel of the food their toil provided;
+the Sultan of Turkey reveled in orgies, flagrant and disgusting, while
+humble Armenians were torn asunder, their bleeding bodies fed to swine,
+their wives and children tortured beyond belief, while no civilized
+nation dared lift its hand in protest. Truth, in itself, is not
+omnipotent. To be of value, truth must be entered into and possessed.
+
+Every truth has a door. To ignorance the door is barred and bolted.
+To thoughtlessness, the door remains unseen. Only to the eye trained
+with prayer, faith in God, and love for man, is given the vision of
+these bright portals, and the possession of the key by which he can
+unlock the door and enter into and enjoy the truth, which the world
+has long known by heart, but which had never enveloped, sheltered,
+and controlled their lives. If he has the courage to use the key and
+open the door and enter in, he shall not only feel the saving power of
+God, but he shall leave an open way through which all men may pass to
+greater power. If he refuses to unlock the door, and, like the learned
+ones of whom Christ spoke, carries away the key, entering not in
+themselves and hindering those who would enter, he becomes an exile,
+without home through time and eternity.
+
+That we may more clearly comprehend this truth let us consider a
+chapter of American history. Hayne had finished his classic and
+convincing speech. With gracious charm he had proclaimed the doctrine
+of union without liberty, a nation of free people, half slave. The rapt
+attention and tribute of silent applause from the audience told how
+critical the situation had become. Opposed to him was Daniel Webster,
+America’s favorite child of genius, whose face was as classic as a
+Greek god’s, and whose commanding bearing won battles like a general.
+He was a scholar of the strong New England type, searching for the
+key to unlock the truth that the nation needed, and make it of easy
+access to the people. He saw that there could be no union without
+universal freedom. Hour after hour he proclaimed the truth, making the
+mightiest speech the nation had ever heard, swaying his audience back
+to the realm of clear thinking. Finally, with one sentence, “Union
+and liberty, now and forever, one and inseparable,” he revealed to an
+awakened nation that he had found the key that would unlock the door of
+truth that the hour needed. But in his hour of triumph, dazzled by the
+possibility of becoming President, he refused to use the key. To gain
+the solid South he uttered his fateful speech for compromise. The North
+held its breath in expectancy while New England sobbed like one bereft
+of his favorite child. He who had the key refused to enter in himself
+and hindered those who would have entered.
+
+But New England had another son of genius who, on the eventful night
+that Webster, with trembling fingers, tried, and failed, to pick up the
+key that he had thrown away, left Faneuil Hall with blazing, burning
+thoughts. He too had found the way, but was unknown and untried. Again
+he was in Faneuil Hall sitting beside James Russell Lowell, listening
+to the mad mouthings of men, who, for the money involved, were
+endeavoring to rechristen Wrong and call it Right. He had waited weary
+weeks, but now he was unable to keep back his flaming indignation.
+Rising, he began to speak. On the very platform where Webster had
+fallen he began to plead the right of human liberty. New England was
+thrilled with hope. Here at last was a man who not only saw the truth
+but was determined to enter into it. With the confidence of a prophet
+he used the key, unlocked the door and showed a nation the way it ought
+to go.
+
+Truth must become incarnate in man and man must be incarnate in truth.
+Every Christian man will testify to this. In childhood you committed
+scripture which had little meaning to your childish mind. It was not
+until in the after years when sorrow came, and grief blinded the eye,
+and pain wounded the heart, that the clear, sweet voice of memory began
+to repeat these verses, and what had been meaningless in childhood
+became great, wholesome, sheltering, protecting truths, in which you
+found all the consolations of God.
+
+It is a wonderful hour when the soul enters into and takes possession
+of God’s great truth, becomes the master of all its stored up power,
+and begins to use it in the service of love. It is a wonderful
+experience and need never be delayed, for the door is easy to find.
+Years ago earth was blessed by the coming of One who worked hard at
+the carpenter trade, and in the school of toil and prayer, found the
+way that scholars had overlooked. Standing before kings and earthly
+potentates he said: “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” His spirit
+is the way for men to live, the door through which they pass into all
+truth, the life of fullest spiritual development. Christ is the open
+way to every truth. Through him men attain the proper point of view,
+and, learning to obey the Father as did he, begin to live the life
+triumphant.
+
+
+
+
+ VIII
+
+ WEAVING SUNBEAMS
+
+
+Nature is always busy weaving sunbeams, and not one of them, like a
+knotted thread, is cast from her loom. The waves cast their crystal
+spray upon the sands to waste away, but not so with the sun as he
+lavishly casts his beams broadcast o’er the earth. Not one of them
+goes upon a fruitless errand, and not one of them fails to reach its
+intended goal. It is not that the sun is wise in directing its energy,
+but because the earth is ready to utilize, with untiring fidelity, the
+gift of sunlight.
+
+How abundantly the sunbeams come! The arched sky is an upturned basket,
+out of which God is pouring his wealth of sunlight upon a thirsty,
+needy planet. These rays of light fall everywhere, because they are
+needed everywhere. Upon arctic snow and desert sand and undiscovered
+ocean waves they fall as readily as upon the forests of Brittany or
+the vineyards of France. They place their gleaming coronets upon the
+crystal brows of the Alps. They dance and flash their jewels, as they
+hold carnival in the Northern Lights. Even after the sun is set they
+peer at us through the parted clouds and leap at us from their hiding
+places in the moon. They fall in the most inaccessible places, yet
+none of them are ever wasted. As the parched earth drinks raindrops,
+so the old world absorbs sunbeams. Swifter and more powerful than
+the leaping waters of a cataract are they poured upon the earth--a
+Niagara, world-wide and sun-high, with never-ceasing floods of light
+that bathe each portion of the globe. They are not piled in heaps; they
+do not swish and whirl, cutting a gorge through solid rock, or form a
+whirlpool to menace humanity, but the earth absorbs them all, however
+rapidly they come, and places them in her mysterious loom. Here, in
+the depths, beyond our sight, the sunbeams are woven into invisible
+cords that hold the needles of all the compasses to the north that
+no traveler need be lost in the forest, and no ship perish in the
+sea. Here, in the depths, the sunbeams are woven into mighty cables
+of electric power that man picks up with the fingers of the dynamo
+and compels to lift his burdens, pull his trains, propel his ships,
+and serve him in a thousand ways. Here, in the depths, is woven that
+mysterious power that carries the wireless message through the rocks of
+the mountains and the channels of the sea, and wraps the earth in a
+diaphanous garb that makes the wireless telephone a possibility.
+
+The world we see is but woven sunbeams. The forests of oak are the
+sunbeams of yesterday, wrought into gnarled and knotted fingers to
+grasp the sunbeams of to-day and wind them on a myriad unseen shuttles.
+Soon they shall appear woven in the texture of notched leaf and carved
+chalice of the acorn’s cup. The sunbeams falling upon the tangled
+branches of the hillside vineyard, are woven into buds, and leaves,
+and clinging tendrils, and afterward into the rich cluster of luscious
+grapes. The sunbeams fall upon the buried seed and are woven into an
+emerald lever with which the clod is lifted, into sturdy leaves that
+are chemical laboratories where crude sap is changed into milk, into
+heads of golden wheat with which to feed a thoughtless, hungry world.
+Sunbeams are woven into corn and oats, into apples and peaches, into
+nuts and berries. Falling along the railroad grade, they are woven into
+violets; falling in the swamps, they are woven into buttercups; falling
+in the thicket, they are woven into the silken folds of the wild-rose
+petal.
+
+As nature weaves the sunbeam and not the shadow so man ought to develop
+his power of utilizing happiness and joy. The sunshine of life ought
+not to be thrown away like confetti and ribbon papers on a gala day.
+Thoughtlessly our youths and maidens dance and sing in giddy, senseless
+manner, throwing away sunbeams as though their lives were only bits of
+colored glass through which the light of joy and happiness should pass.
+Having no looms with which to weave their sunbeams into that which
+would adorn their souls with garments of ever-growing life, they soon
+become old and haggard, lifeless and dead, a burned-out planet like
+the moon, unable to appreciate the sunlight that never fails to fall.
+Much of the difference between men is due to the ability of one and
+the inability of the other to make the passing joys of life become a
+permanent, abiding element of his life.
+
+There is no life without sufficient sunlight to weave a gracious
+personality. Wholesomeness of character is not the result of partiality
+on God’s part, neither is hideous irritability of disposition
+occasioned by God’s neglect of one of his children. The difference
+between wholesomeness and unwholesomeness of character is that of the
+right and wrong use of the blessings which God bestows upon all alike.
+He who casts his sunbeams away will find old age desert and lifeless,
+while he who weaves them all into a pleasing personality, will always
+experience the joy of a more abundant life. A smile is softer than a
+silken fiber and wears far longer. Its colors never fade, nor pass out
+of style. Woven into a robe of genuine cheerfulness the soul possesses
+rich adornment. These are the individuals whom children love, men seek
+to honor, and all the world respects. A king’s robe is commonplace
+compared with the attractive vesture of a healthy, cheerful disposition
+which anyone may weave out of sunbeams, with which God crowds even the
+most secluded, humble lives.
+
+This occupation is also the secret of sound and vigorous influence.
+All men possess the power of influence, but even when one has the best
+intentions he may wield a harmful, baleful influence because of an
+irritable and complaining disposition. A petulant temper and irascible
+disposition are the thunder that curds much of the milk of human
+kindness, and an application of alum will not tend to sweeten the curd.
+With a sharp tongue one may be driven to hard labor, but the wounds
+he carries in his heart will prevent him from performing a perfect
+task. Scolding and fault-finding have driven multitudes into iniquity.
+It is difficult to drive bees, but one can lure them any distance
+with a field of blooming clover. By forgetting to weave sunbeams into
+wholesome character one not only loses the joy of being cheerful but
+fails in one of the supreme objectives of life--that of wielding
+intelligently a helpful, healthy, and enduring influence.
+
+The secret of achievement may also be described as weaving sunbeams.
+In a victorious life the blessings of God take permanent place in the
+work of hand and brain. Such a life is a loom which receives only
+that he may produce, the quality of the production depending upon
+the care and patience with which he works, indifference producing
+mediocrity, carefulness leading to perfection. What the world calls
+genius is simply the mastery of the gracious art of weaving sunbeams
+into polished sentences, enduring thoughts, embroidered tapestry,
+living poem, inspiring painting, and graceful statue. The way out
+of mediocrity is to weave one’s personal blessings into world-wide
+benefits.
+
+Here also is found the way to overcome life’s obstacles. A frown
+never wins a battle. It was a singing army that crossed the sea and
+helped win the World War. Amid the dangers, hardships, and privations
+our soldiers gathered sunbeams, and with a cheerfulness never before
+witnessed upon a field of battle did their full part. Trenches,
+barbed-wire entanglement, and treacherous pitfall are nothing to one
+who weaves his sunbeams into song. Thus all difficulties fade away and
+vanish.
+
+These statements are only another way of saying that one should weave
+God into every fiber of life. The sun is always emblematic of the
+Father, and he who weaves sunbeams will know and love God. This is no
+idle saying, nor a bit of rhetoric, but a soul-saving truth. It is the
+sun that banishes the shadows; it is God who enables us to overcome
+our temptations, pain and sorrow. The more we utilize his revelations
+the brighter the pathway, until at last we shall stand in his presence
+and have no more need of the sun, for we have him. “They shall hunger
+no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them,
+nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall
+feed them, and shall lead them into living fountains of waters: and God
+shall wipe all tears from their eyes.” Weaving sunbeams in a world of
+shadows, we prepare ourselves for the unshadowed land where God is the
+everlasting Light. There, without sin or suffering, we shall know God.
+
+
+
+
+ IX
+
+ THE PATHWAY OF A NOBLE PURPOSE
+
+
+As the sleepless eye thirsts for the dawn, and the troubled child
+hungers for the sound of its mother’s voice, so each growing soul
+seeks a coveted goal the attaining of which, to him, means success.
+As boys, to be boys, must dream their dreams of strife and conflict
+upon a battle’s front, and girls, to be girls, must dream their milder
+dreams of love, so coming maturity demands of each aspiring soul that
+he linger long upon the visions of strife that lead to success. It is
+well to seek for great things, for each success that enters the golden
+portals of our lives brings many chariots filled with golden gifts.
+Returning to his home, the Roman victor was honored with a triumph in
+which, on golden plate and velvet spread, the trophies and spoils of
+conquest were displayed. In this way the ambitious Roman youth learned
+that success is always attended by a great procession of rich rewards.
+The one who conquers feels more than the soul-thrill of victory. Like
+Samson, he finds the unexpected reward of a carcass filled with honey
+awaiting his hungry lips.
+
+While success is worthy of one’s best efforts, and all men hunger for
+it, very few, indeed, have ever reached that happy goal. They failed
+because they refused to follow the pathway of a noble purpose. They
+believed that success was altogether a matter of outward form. Seeing
+the conqueror riding in triumphant procession, they thought that the
+applause arose, not because he had conquered, but because he wore
+a helmet and a shield. Hurrying to an emporium, they too purchased
+helmets and shields and strutted forth to win a world’s applause.
+Foolish souls! The public eye is keen and penetrating and always
+apprehends the truth. If the people greet a king with shouts, it is not
+because they see a gleaming crown, but because they recognize a royal
+soul beneath the crown. If the multitude cheer a warrior, it is not
+because he bears a standard, but because, in courageous conflict, he
+won a battle for the people. Spain greeted the discoverer of America,
+not because of the grain and fruit he brought, but because he had
+braved the dangers of a dark unknown, and blazed a pathway through
+untracked wastes.
+
+History repeats the story of a weird Scythian custom. When the head
+of a house died his family would adorn his corpse in finest raiment,
+place it in a chariot, and, amid shouts and hosannas, draw it to the
+homes of former friends. Coming to each dwelling place, the corpse
+would be greeted with pomp and splendor. For the final home-coming the
+steps would be carpeted with silken shawl and choice embroidery, while
+lighted chandeliers flashed welcome to the dead and sunken eyes. Within
+the doorway the crowned corpse was placed at the head of a banqueting
+table at which his gay companions sat and made merry, eating and
+drinking in his honor. Thus many days were spent in honoring the dead
+before the body was laid away in the tomb. To us it was a most gruesome
+custom, but each Scythian youth struggled to possess a home of his own,
+that some day he might be carried as a crowned corpse through the city
+streets, and finally, be seated in honor at his own banqueting board.
+
+This ancient custom was the outgrowth of a mistaken view of life still
+prevailing in many quarters, for the crowned corpse is seen to-day in
+many public gatherings. What else is the man who seeks office for the
+selfish purpose and pleasure of holding office? In youth he saw the
+governor’s chair or Senate seat, and found that every chord of his
+nature was awakened and longed to reach that goal. He determined that
+this vision of his soul should be transcribed from the pages of his
+imagination to the pages of his nation’s history. Two pathways opened.
+The one of a noble purpose, saying, “Seek office, that you may render
+needed service to your fellow countrymen.” The pathway of selfishness
+opened its portals saying, “Seek office for the sake of gain.” Seeing
+that trickery and deceit promised the easier way to gain his end,
+he started with leaps and bounds. He cast lots with dishonesty and
+dissipation. He became a perjurer, a liar, and a thief. He sold himself
+to an unworthy cause, at last the coveted crown was his. To-day he sits
+at the head of the table, not a great ruler, but a crowned corpse. In
+his struggle for power he lost all that constitutes real living.
+
+What else is the man who seeks wealth for the sole sake of having
+money? For years he has lived the life of a slave, denying himself
+beauty, music, books, devotions, and benevolence, until, at last,
+his name appears in Bradstreet marked “AA,” and the world greets him
+as a king. Who is he? A crowned corpse. When he began his career two
+pathways opened. The one of a noble purpose saying, “Make money for the
+sake of doing good.” The other way, the way of selfishness, saying,
+“Make money to satisfy your own desires.” He chose the latter way. He
+has his robe and crown, and is seated amid light and applause, but he
+is not capable of appreciating its meaning. Long ago he died to honor,
+and truth, and love, and generous impulse. He knows not the meaning of
+life.
+
+Among the crowned corpses should also be mentioned those who follow
+society for society’s sake. Through imitation they have destroyed
+personality. They have smothered their souls under the weight of their
+self-adornment. In their wild search for physical pleasure all the
+radiant, sparkling glory of a cultured spirituality has faded into the
+pallor of death. They are richly robed, they ride in state, receive the
+plaudits of their followers, sit at table spread with gold and silver
+plate, but they are now dead to all the higher things of life and are
+unable to appreciate the empty honors they receive.
+
+The secret of successful living is to follow the pathway of a noble
+purpose. At first the path may seem a long and arduous one, but it
+is the only way that has booths in which to rest the weary feet and
+crowns for living souls to wear. It is in this pathway that one
+learns the secret of the Christ life, for as he journeys on the way
+to nobility a voice is ever whispering in his ears: “Life consists in
+living unselfishly. Seek power only that you may have strength to serve
+those who are weak. Gain wealth only that you may be able to multiply
+your usefulness.” The road of a noble purpose leads to a throne, not
+one for the dead body, but a throne for the living soul. Here too
+is applause, not such as the Scythian dead received but such as was
+accorded the Roman conqueror. What a thrill follows noble endeavor!
+What a joy to come to old age having fought battles for those who were
+too weak to fight for themselves, and brought victory where otherwise
+his people would have suffered defeat and death!
+
+The world honors those who honor it. The ruler who has followed the
+pathway of a noble purpose is always honored by his people. Before him
+is spread the banquet of a nation’s reverence and homage. The man who,
+in getting money, has kept his hands clean from dishonesty, made just
+returns for all labor he required, and has kept his heart tender toward
+his fellow man, is honored by everyone. Men delight to fill his days
+with happiness, as honeysuckle loves to fill the air with sweetness.
+When the world discovers a woman whose desire for society is not to
+satisfy her vanity, or fill a shallow soul with selfish pleasures, but
+her desire is to scatter jewels of love and gems of inspiration to make
+rich and beautiful the lives of the common folk, it crowns her in the
+temple of its heart and calls her an angel sent of God.
+
+The days of autocratic power are ended, but the hands of the people
+are busy building thrones and weaving crowns of gold. So long as there
+is a love for nobility in the human heart men and women of nobility
+will be placed in power. Life consisteth not in the abundance of the
+_things_ which a man possesseth but in following the pathway of a noble
+purpose.
+
+
+
+
+ X
+
+ SWORDS FOR MORAL BATTLES
+
+
+The best weapons with which to fight moral battles have already been
+forged, sharpened, and polished, waiting to be unsheathed for conflict.
+There are some things that the ingenuity of man cannot improve. Man’s
+genius may perfect the locomotive to give swiftness to his feet; it may
+magnify his voice until his whispers are heard a thousand miles away;
+it may perfect machinery giving speed and accuracy to his busy fingers;
+it may print his speech and multiply his audience a millionfold; it
+may open new fields of endeavor, thus increasing the circle of his
+influence; it may do many things to break down barriers, and increase
+usefulness; but all the genius and skill of man can never devise nor
+contribute to any life a better or keener weapon with which to fight
+moral battles than belonged to us the eventful morning we left the old
+homeplace and mother’s presence, to begin, among strangers, our first
+conquest with the world.
+
+As a royal exile David was facing a grave crisis. The relentless enemy
+was pressing hard, and he possessed no means of defense. Leaving his
+hiding place, he hurried into the presence of Ahimelech and asked for
+a spear or a sword. As Ahimelech was a priest, and not a warrior, he
+was about to dismiss the young man empty-handed when, suddenly, he
+remembered. Wrapped in cloth, hanging behind the high priest’s robe,
+was an old sword, the very one that this young man had one time taken
+from the stiffening fingers of a dying giant, whom he had slain on the
+eventful morning of his first great conflict. Slowly and carefully the
+old man took the gleaming blade from its resting place, unwrapped it
+with reverent touch, explaining that it was all that he had to offer.
+David was instantly filled with delight. His eyes gleamed with fire,
+his heart and soul were thrilled with memories of that bright morning,
+when, filled with the ardor of youth, he had run down the mountainside
+to make conquest with the giant. This was that giant’s sword! The very
+one that he had wrenched from the stiffening fingers of the vanquished
+foe. Reaching forward he grasped it in his strong right hand saying:
+“There is none like that; give it me.” There may have been and probably
+were better and more beautiful swords in the world; keener steel may
+have been forged into swords for the generals and kings of other lands,
+but for David there was none other quite so efficient as the one with
+which he had gained his first victory.
+
+There are no newly discovered weapons with which to fight the moral
+battles of to-day. As David was aroused from the shrinking spirit of a
+fugitive to become a conquering king, by being given the weapon of his
+former battle, so each man must make requisition upon the past. Behold
+the weapons which hang in the sacred temple of our souls awaiting the
+grasp of a courageous hand.
+
+There is the sword of our childhood dreams. Let memory make you a
+little child again with brother and sister about the hearthstone on
+a winter’s evening, and let your heart glow with good cheer. Or let
+the sunshine of summer fall across your way until you are a child
+once more, running with bare feet through the winding ways of the
+meadow, chasing moths and butterflies, or wading the stream back of
+the old schoolhouse, your heart as carefree as the rippling waters.
+Let the dull monotonous hum and soothing influences of those happy
+days of wonderment come back to your heart until your eyes half close
+and you begin redreaming your youthful dreams. Blessed dreams, that
+cause the muscles of your face to relax, while laughter comes to the
+lips, and compels you to forget the blistering ways you have trodden
+since those sun-bright days. Dream your dreams of tenderness and
+confidence, for the tendency of the city is to harden the heart and
+dull the sympathies. Then will you have a worthy weapon with which to
+make battle. You need your old-time faith in God and confidence in
+man, your former optimistic view of life that gave brightness to every
+future fancy; your trustfulness in mother’s love and father’s counsel;
+the belief that divine power was working for your success because your
+heart was pure; let these memories and fond dreams come to you once
+again. You need them. Without the dreams of life the arm has little
+strength and the will but little power. Let them come back, bringing
+smiles for your face, and wreaths for your brow, and heaps of gold
+for your coffers. Youthful dreams must never fade from the gallery of
+memory if men would achieve. Lay hold upon them with all your power,
+knowing that while manhood’s wisdom is valuable, it is not half so
+effectual in fighting life’s battles as are the warm dreams of youth.
+With the sword of a worthy dream a man can defeat any adversary, scale
+any rampart, take any stronghold. Youth’s dreams were never intended to
+be lost. They are stored away in the most sacred part of your nature.
+Plead for their return, and finding them, exclaim with David, “There is
+none like that; give it me.”
+
+There is the sword of your old-time enthusiasm and resolution. There
+was a time when you believed yourself the possessor of a divine quality
+that would compel your brightest dream to come true. With age you are
+becoming more prosaic. You are not so confident and self-assertive.
+You excuse your shortcomings by asserting that you are becoming
+“more conservative,” forgetful that conservatism is very often only
+a refined name for dry rot or petrification. No man can win a fight
+with merely the weapons of conservatism. What you need is the old-time
+enthusiasm with which you announced your determination to leave home,
+the enthusiasm with which you packed the old trunk, and that fired your
+soul as you drove away from the old homestead, and made you determined
+to win fame and fortune at any cost. Time instead of deadening should
+kindle the fires of enthusiasm. You are living in the greatest hour
+of history. You are better equipped and environed and protected than
+the people of any generation. The quest was never so valuable; the
+rewards for noble endeavor never more abounding. There is no reason for
+any man giving up to indifference or despair. Take up your old-time
+enthusiasm until your heart burns with power that quickens the step and
+strengthens the arm. Lay hold of this conquering sword with which you
+have slain many a giant and cry with the spirit of a true conqueror,
+“There is none like that; give it me.”
+
+There is the sword of your childhood faith in God. As you have grown
+older you have acquainted yourself with many theories and tried many
+dogmas strange and fanciful, but none of them have had sufficient
+strength and keenness to win your battle. You have been compelled to
+throw them aside, and now, in the crisis, you are compelled to face the
+enemy of your soul without means of defense. Then take up the sword of
+your childhood faith in God that filled your younger years with beauty,
+that warmed your enthusiasm, and made you fight single-handed while an
+army trembled. Kneel once more as you knelt at your mother’s knee; look
+up with an open face toward your Father in heaven; cherish his words
+and keep his commandments; and from this hour no man can defeat you.
+In the outstretched hand of your Christian mother is the sword of your
+old-time faith in God. May you have the wisdom of David when he saw the
+sword in the hands of the priest and exclaim with all the earnestness
+of your repentant soul, “There is none like that; give it me.”
+
+There is no modern improvement in making swords for moral battles.
+Man’s progress in the sciences is not because he has improved but
+because he has employed the laws of nature, laws that have coexisted
+with the world. The telephone, telegraph, and incandescent are not the
+result of man inventing electricity. Science wins all her conquests by
+using old swords but perfect ones, because they come from the hand of
+God. We need no new religions, cults, or creeds. Being man-made they
+have no excellence of steel or temper. The emphasis must be placed, not
+upon the theory, but upon the moral laws which are just as vital to
+the spiritual life as natural laws are to the development of science.
+These laws are perfect. The Ten Commandments are incomparable. Not one
+of them is unnecessary but each one vital to triumphant living. Add to
+these the new commandment of Christ that we are to love the Lord our
+God with all our mind and heart and soul and strength and our neighbors
+as ourselves, and we have an arsenal with which to conquer all the
+powers of earth and hell.
+
+The world is weary following the ways of men. Righteousness alone
+exalteth a nation. “Back to God!” is the war-cry. “There is none like
+that; give it me.”
+
+
+
+
+ XI
+
+ SPICED WINE
+
+
+In his Songs Solomon referred to a beautiful Oriental custom. The
+bride and bridegroom drank from the same cup, that they might show the
+assembled guests their willingness to henceforth share all the cups of
+life, whether sweet or bitter. To add to the joy of the wedding banquet
+the cup from which the wedded ones were to drink would be passed first
+to the others who were seated with them. As it passed from hand to hand
+each guest would drop into the ruby wine a gift of fragrant spice,
+expressing thus the earnest wish that every bitter cup of life might
+be brightened and sweetened with the spices of good friendship. From
+the first moment of wedded life their loved ones wished that they taste
+of nothing save joy and happiness. In his great poem Solomon somewhat
+alters the ancient custom and represents the bride performing this
+service of spicing the wine for the husband, as much as to say, “I
+would render unto thee only the sweetest, the purest, and the best that
+earth can hold.”
+
+One of the greatest needs of to-day is a spirit of willingness to
+spice the sour wines which others are daily compelled to drink. There
+are few greater services to render both God and man than to proffer the
+cup of spiced wine.
+
+The church as the Bride of Christ should offer to him no service that
+is not sweet and aromatic with the spices of sincerity and love. This
+is the only way the world will ever be taken for Jesus Christ. The
+church must offer something better, more pleasing, and more wholesome
+than the wines that this world has to offer. It is the tendency to give
+to God the drainings from life’s vintage. We often spend the week in
+pursuit of selfish pleasures, drinking the sweetest wines and giving
+them freely to our chosen companions, and then, in hours of worship,
+give to God the cheaper, sourer wines, making religious worship
+unwholesome, acrid, bitter, and nauseous.
+
+Unless we do away with our acrimonious methods and make our services to
+God more aromatic and pleasant, the church is going to lose all hold
+upon her boys and girls. As a child’s growing body requires sugar, so
+his awakened spiritual powers need that which is sweetened with the
+spices of gladness and whole-heartedness.
+
+This is the only way by which the church shall get and retain its grip
+on men of affairs. All week long these individuals have been tasting
+the acid and the bitterness of earthly struggle and competitive
+ambition. Sunday morning comes and they are tired, and nervous, and
+all worn out. What they need is a cup of spices, each bit of spice
+a gift of love. They need to have their minds taken away from the
+bitterness and acidity of life and given something that is fragrant
+and stimulating, something that will revive and strengthen them for
+future activity. This is the purpose of the church. It is to gather
+from all quarters of the earth all things that are good, wholesome, and
+attractive, and press them, as a gift of love, to the lips of every
+worshiper. It is to crowd each service with inspiring song, short
+helpful prayers, warm-worded greetings, and enthusiastic handshaking,
+until the silver chalice brims with gladness. Bring all your spices
+into the house of God and offer to Christ a pleasing gift. There is no
+telling how much good you can do. Look into the face of your Creator
+whenever you enter his temple and pray with an earnest heart: “O Lord,
+I would this day cause thee to drink spiced wine.”
+
+This should not only be the attitude of the church toward its Lord, but
+it should certainly be the spirit with which it daily faces the world.
+As we confront each individual we should be able to say: “I would
+cause thee, my brother, my sister, to drink spiced wine.” We should
+go through life so prepared with the spices of good cheer that the
+moment we found one with a cup of bitterness we could remove all its
+disagreeableness before it is pressed to their parched lips. We should
+carry spices for their cups, and not pepper for the eyes, or salt with
+which to rub the sores of our enemies. Spices so sweeten the cup that
+men forget their hatred and find themselves glad that we are here.
+
+Give them the spices of a good disposition. Our dispositions are not
+unalterable gifts thrust upon us at birth, but are largely a matter of
+cultivation. If we associate with that which is sour and crabbed, our
+dispositions will, of necessity, assume the same nature. If we live
+a life of goodness, we will most naturally have a sweet disposition.
+The difference between peaches and pickles is far more than a matter
+of spelling. Peaches are not pickles, because they absorb the sunlight
+and the sweetness of the soil, until even their tartness is delicious
+to the taste. Pickles are not peaches because they absorb only those
+things which suggest and harmonize with salt and vinegar. We never
+think of pickles without thinking about vinegar. Their difference is
+in the choice of elements used in building tissues. The same thing is
+true with us. We make our dispositions, and because we do, we should be
+lovers of the aromatic spices with which God has crowded the world.
+O that those who profess to love God would cease shaking pepper into
+others’ lives, and begin to put sweet spices of a good disposition into
+cups already too bitter with the gall of sorrow and disappointment.
+
+Give them the spices of a cheerful conversation. No good comes
+from burning the mind of the world with the acid of criticism, or
+distressing their lacerated hearts with the story of our personal
+discomforts. Give spices. Instead of telling how the rheumatism made
+the joints creak on their hinges, tell the story of how once you
+were able to leap over the fences and how you swung from the topmost
+branch of the old apple tree. Instead of telling about the horrors of
+insomnia, and how little you slept that past week, and how miserably
+the morning hours wore away, tell about the red bird that sang under
+your window and awakened a thousand memories of your childhood, tell
+how you noticed the fresh air of the morning awakened symphonies among
+the dew-laden leaves. It is so much nicer to be a candle that gives
+light than a smoky chimney that belches soot and cinders. The world
+always appreciates its bearers of good news. Happy conversation is
+within the reach of every one. No matter how blind we may be to the
+blessings of to-day, memory holds a box of spices within easy reach,
+and we can fill our words with a sweetness that will cast an undying
+fragrance.
+
+It is not difficult to be cheerful when we remember that we meet only
+two classes of people, no matter how far we travel, or how long we
+live. The one class consists of those who are making failure of life.
+Each word we speak brings to them either the bitterness of wormwood or
+the good cheer of wild honey. The opportunity to give encouragement
+to the downcast comes every day. Tired, worn, and jaded, they meet us
+upon every street corner and press against us at every assembly. O that
+they might rejoice as they taste the spices we are placing in their
+wine! The other class of people whom we are meeting are those who are
+making success of life, and who are very often the most neglected.
+Because they receive worldly honor we think them extremely happy, not
+recognizing their loneliness. The world never hesitates to press its
+sponge of vinegar and gall to the lips of those who are serving it.
+
+Several years ago there was a large gathering in Calvary Church,
+New York City, to pay tribute to Dr. Edward Washburn. Phillips
+Brooks, Bishop Potter, and many other men of distinction met in that
+magnificent service and offered words of praise to the goodness,
+courage, clear thinking, untainted love and unselfish devotion of that
+mighty man. After all had ended their words of praise a little woman,
+dressed in black, who had been the companion of Dr. Washburn for so
+many years of married life, slowly arose to address the audience. Amid
+an intense silence she repeated over and over again these words: “O, if
+you men loved Edward so, why did you never tell him?” What a revelation
+of heart-hunger! Long years of bitterness when all might have been
+relieved with just a little spice, that is readily found and easily
+bestowed.
+
+Bring on the spices! Let us be more affectionate one toward another.
+The eldest son of a large family was kneeling at his mother’s deathbed
+saying, “You have been such a good mother.” The dying woman opened her
+eyes and faintly whispered, “You never said so before, John, you never
+said that before.” Let this be our motto as we meet all men: “I would
+cause you to drink spiced wine.”
+
+
+
+
+ XII
+
+ THE FEVER OF HEALTH
+
+
+One of man’s richest possessions is the feeling of restlessness and
+discontent that ever pushes onward seeking something new. It is the
+secret of discovery. Beholding the sunset, like a thousand camp fires
+flashing their beams upon the crimson and purple curtained tents of
+ever-encamping angels, man determined to enter into and share their
+quiet place of rest and luxury. Hastening forward, he easily found the
+hills that yester-night formed the mystic camping ground, but nowhere
+would a torn leaf or trampled grass-blade betray a single footprint;
+while, looking farther westward than he had traveled, he saw the
+same crimson-and-purple tents stretched upon other hilltops bathed
+with sunset’s golden light. Month followed month while man continued
+journeying westward in fruitless quest for peace, but in his effort to
+reach the cherished goal he discovered new lakes and rivers, hills and
+valleys, plains and forests, until a mighty continent lay ready for his
+children’s children to build cities rivaling in power and splendor the
+mystic camps of sunset’s unseen hosts.
+
+Restlessness and dissatisfaction are the secret of invention. Satisfied
+with their condition, China, India, and Africa yield no inventions.
+Their people carry water in flasks of skin, travel upon weary-footed
+beasts of burden, and bequeath their children nothing but tradition.
+Such once was all the world until some individuals of courage and
+determination caught the fever of health. Dissatisfied and restless,
+man became weary of carrying water and would not rest until he had
+perfected the Holly Engine that presses a cup of cool water to every
+thirsty lip within the city. Tired of slow travel, he compelled the
+locomotive to give fleetness to his feet, and the telephone to give
+rapid transit to his voice. Restless because the singer’s voice must
+fade in silence, man built the phonograph to give the human voice, the
+frailest of all man’s possessions, everlasting life. Dissatisfaction
+with things as they are gives invention her rich achievements.
+
+Art follows only in the footsteps of restlessness. Every painting
+and tapestry hanging on palace wall, every anthem that thrills the
+templed throngs, and every melody that wafts its sweet cadence upon the
+trembling, vibrant air, exists because some sensitive soul refused to
+know contentment until he had given perfect expression to the beauty
+that dwelt within his soul.
+
+Only through the contagion of the divine fever can there be any reform.
+It was only when the restless soul of John Howard began to express its
+contempt for the foul floors and vitiated air of England’s jails and
+aroused the slumbering conscience of an indifferent people that the
+cruel prison systems of the world were changed. Reform in England’s
+colonial policy that made possible the unity of Canada and the founding
+of our own government came only when men began to chafe and grow
+restless under unjust treatment, and finally found expression in the
+burning, blazing, nervous eloquence of Patrick Henry, “Give me liberty,
+or give me death!”
+
+Because men were satisfied with things as they were, the city slums
+became deeper, fouler depths of misery entombing thousands of human
+beings in inexcusable death-traps, robbing parents of hope and
+childhood of its lawful inheritance of health and goodness. These
+things continued until one poor lad grew divinely restless. A little
+immigrant boy of poetic temperament and lofty aspirations, by the name
+of Jacob Riis, cried out in protest against the injustice of foul
+air and darkened homes. Restless himself, he made the city restless,
+until New York transformed her tenements, purified her slums, and
+reformed her government until she became one of the cleanest cities
+of the world--in many ways a worthy example for the cities of the Old
+World to follow. The restlessness of Livingstone redeemed Africa.
+The restlessness of Morris saved China. The restlessness of Thoburn
+is working miracles in India. When men found it impossible to sit at
+ease while their brothers were in chains slavery disappeared. Because
+men became weary with drunkenness and tired listening to the pathetic
+pleading of drunkards’ wives and children, an aroused nation closed the
+open saloons and placed a ban upon the sale of alcoholic drink. Men are
+now becoming tired of war. They believe that the world has drunk its
+fill of human blood. The hour for world-wide disarmament has come, and
+rulers must be made to think before sacrificing their people’s lives.
+
+Here also we find the secret of mental development. So long as the
+human mind is satisfied with tradition it cannot grow; but let it
+once become uneasy under the deadening power of superstition, its
+very restlessness will make the mountains unlock their secrets, the
+plants yield tribute of health-creating medicines, the clouds unbosom
+their mystery, and even the starlight becomes a pencil of gold to
+write upon the tablet of the sky the marvelous story of man’s growing
+intellectual power.
+
+No one of God’s gifts is to be valued more than this feeling of
+unrest that he inspires within the heart, making us dissatisfied with
+ourselves and our surroundings, and forcing us forward to become
+skillful in discovery, art, invention, reform, and intellectuality.
+
+But the beneficent influence of health’s fever does not end here, for
+it is also the secret of spiritual development. We have all experienced
+these seasons of holy manifestation. Our friends said that we had the
+fidgets; the physician diagnosed our case as one of nervousness; we
+insisted that we had the blues; but all were wrong. The restlessness
+was a sign of health. We were not satisfied with ourselves but longed
+for nobility. The dust-made body was refusing to grovel in the dust.
+The spiritual life was beginning to assert itself through these tissues
+of flesh. The chrysalis had lost its desire to crawl along the ground,
+for new life within claimed its right to rise upon joyous wing and
+cleave the sunlit air. It was not a thing to be despised, to mar and
+gnaw the budding leaf, but something to be admired and loved of man,
+something sylphlike to sip from chalices of gold and silver, porphyry
+and lapis-lazuli. The old man of sin was dying, and through the power
+of Christ a new man was coming into life; from now on he can never be
+satisfied with things as they were.
+
+One of the hopes of the world’s salvation is the fact that sin never
+satisfies the soul. Its promises are never fulfilled. Its obligations
+are never met at maturity. Men become restless in their sin, and
+through their restlessness are being led to God. Here alone can
+satisfaction be found, for only Christ supplies the soul with what
+it needs for the journey set before it. He offers guidance, saying,
+“I am the way.” Following him no soul has ever been lost amid the
+bewildering maze of sin. He offers sustaining power saying, “I am the
+bread of life” and “I am the water of life.” The dusty ashes of sin no
+longer choke, but for the hunger there is life-giving bread, and for
+the parched lip there is water. He gives illumination, saying, “I am
+the light,” and the terrors of darkness and the dangers of the night
+flee away. He offers an open way, saying, “I am the door,” and through
+him one passes out of the cramped prison house of past sins into
+untrammeled, unmeasured freedom. He offers immortality, saying, “I am
+the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were
+dead, yet shall he live.” The deadening power of sin loses its hold,
+and one tastes the unspeakable joy of living a life that is life indeed.
+
+Then be not confounded by the feeling of restlessness that ever creeps
+upon the healthy soul. What a tragedy our lives would be had we been
+satisfied with our first achievements! How terribly pathetic it is to
+become satisfied with ourselves now, while we are so far short of what
+we might be, and so lamentably short of what God meant our lives to be!
+Curb not the spirit of restlessness as though it were a fever of death.
+It is health’s fever. It is the call of the soul for its Creator who
+longs to lead us into better things.
+
+To-morrow will be a beautiful day because to-day is so restless.
+
+
+
+
+ XIII
+
+ THE WISDOM OF THE UNLEARNED
+
+
+The pathway of true brotherly love is bordered with deformed social
+conditions which must be faced and remedied. Entering the temple at the
+hour of prayer, Peter and John had their pious meditations interrupted
+by the appealing cry of a crippled beggar, who was crouching helplessly
+at the temple door. His haggard face, his wistful eye, his bony,
+outstretched hand, pleaded so passionately that the singing of the
+Levites was drowned and the temple call to prayer unheeded. The eyes
+of Peter and the beggar met, and Christlike spirituality stood face
+to face with the practical aspect of the world’s need. Instantly
+the great-hearted, impetuous Peter took notice of the helpless man,
+whose wan face began to brighten with hope. Taking him by the right
+hand, Peter said: “Silver and gold have I none. I cannot meet the
+requirements that you ask, knowing that it is not money that you need,
+so much as health and strength, with which to earn a livelihood for
+yourself and for your loved ones. Silver and gold have I none; but
+such as I have, give I thee. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth
+rise up and walk.” The cripple did not have time to waver, nor to
+debate, for the warm handclasp and the strong arm of the enthusiastic
+servant of Christ was lifting him to his feet and teaching him how to
+leap, and run, and sing the praises of God. Peter and John felt that
+they could not enter the temple to pray until they had proven their
+right to worship by practically meeting whatever part of the world-wide
+social needs chanced, at that moment, to confront them.
+
+But their benevolence was misinterpreted by those who should have been
+the most appreciative. Overzealous religionists, who usually mistake
+the form for the spirit of worship, had the two benefactors arrested,
+accused of violating their law concerning the observance of the Sabbath
+day. After a night spent upon the cold, damp stones of the inner
+prison, the two disciples were brought before the learned magistrate to
+explain their conduct.
+
+There is nothing more interesting than these unfriendly scholarly
+investigations of religious phenomena, conducted for the purpose of
+securing a rational psychological explanation. The high priests, the
+scribes, the rulers of city and province were seated in state, when
+the two humble followers of the Social Christ, with common garb, and
+net-calloused hands, stood at the judgment bar and heard the question:
+“By what power have ye done this?” A more modern phraseology of the
+question would be, “State to the Court what is the psychological
+explanation of this purported miracle?”
+
+It was a critical moment to these judges, for scholarship, with much
+ado, was studying and analyzing ignorance. But the Peter of Pentecost
+was not to be dismayed. He knew that the service of Christ is not
+formal but practical, and that his conduct in curing a lame beggar was
+more important to God than the observing of a thousand man-made forms
+and ceremonies. He knew from his former experience that ignorance need
+have no fear of the scoffer’s sneer, or the scholar’s questioning, when
+once the heart has been fully consecrated to the service of God. With
+confidence they faced the inquirers saying, frankly: “The power is not
+ours. This miracle was performed through the power of Christ, which
+you, in your learning, threw aside, and which we, in the simplicity of
+our untutored hearts, have accepted as the gift of God.” The power of
+Pentecost was with the preacher again, and the judges were filled with
+fear and wonderment. Against their most earnest desires they liberated
+the men, wondering why they, as learned men, should be influenced by
+men of such untrained intellects.
+
+While Christianity has always waged warfare against ignorance in all
+forms, and has been the leader in founding schools and colleges, the
+fact remains that many of our greatest achievements have been wrought
+by untrained men. God often takes the weak things of this world to
+confound the mighty.
+
+When an unorganized and badly scattered people needed a wise ruler, God
+passed by the palace doors and over the seats of learning that, in the
+open fields, he might crown David, a shepherd lad. When Jerusalem was
+a ruined city, overgrown with weed and briar, God ignored commanding
+generals and ruling monarchs, to honor Nehemiah, whose conquering
+courage rebuilt the city. When mad with power and wild excesses of sin,
+a mighty nation needed restraint, God stepped over the royal houses as
+though they were playthings upon the nursery floor, and lifted Daniel,
+an exile, to become the condemning conscience for them who had slain
+their consciences, and to become a radiant hope for those who were
+enslaved and had lost all courage. When the time had fully come for
+the kingdom of Christ to be preached to the cultured and aristocratic,
+he chose these two men of the fisher-craft, who, though ignorant
+and unlearned, made the scholars and statesmen dumb with wonderment,
+while the crowned power of the age was humiliated, unable to cope
+successfully against the growing faith.
+
+Christianity, while not encouraging ignorance, recognizes what
+the world often overlooks, that learning, in itself, has woeful
+limitations. When rightly employed, mental training multiplies one’s
+powers and talents, as the circling moon gives strength and swiftness
+to the rising tides; but misapplied book-learning has little value.
+In the crises of life the general information gleaned from books
+counts for but very little. The knowledge that water, when reduced in
+temperature to thirty degrees or less, freezes, so that a dangerous
+river is changed into a solid highway over which one can walk in
+safety, is of small value to a man who is drowning in the summer time,
+and very few drowning men would call for a thermometer to take the
+temperature of the water in which they were sinking. Standing beneath
+a falling wall, no man is going to begin to calculate the specific
+gravity of the falling elements or estimate the force of impact upon
+his head. All learning is good, and nothing in the line of information
+should be ignored, for, along the more or less narrow line of its own
+application, each truth is of inestimable value. Each added truth that
+one learns pulls up the tent stakes of the horizon and widens the
+world just so much, but no man can save himself with learning alone.
+Success depends, not upon scholarship, but upon a spotless love for God
+and a boundless love for man. Herein is the wisdom of life, and the
+weakest man or woman may possess it. All men may not become learned,
+but all men may become great and enthusiastic lovers of their fellow
+man. The little child that bends its arms in fervent hugs to show the
+measure of its affection; the struggling youth that stops to help a
+wounded companion; the widow, fighting against poverty in the tenement;
+the old man, patiently looking for the coming day--all these may
+possess the secret of royal living.
+
+The world will be saved, not by the scholar, as a scholar, but by the
+loving heart; not by platitude, but by kindly deeds. Goodness is such
+an easy thing to acquire, that it is within the reach of all. A little
+London newsboy was seen to daily follow an unknown man for many blocks.
+When asked by an observer why he did so he responded, “When he buys a
+paper from me, he always smiles, and calls me his boy. He is the only
+one who ever called me that, and I just love to see him.” Here was
+a life brightened and perhaps redeemed because a busy man of wealth
+took time to say what any one of us is able to say each day. When
+King Humbert would have lost his nation he saved it, not by scholarly
+exhortations or startling state papers, but by visiting the hospitals
+of Naples and ministering with genuine affection a plague-smitten
+people. It was a task of love that the weakest person might be able to
+perform, but it saved a nation for a king.
+
+The world will be saved. Righteousness shall ultimately prevail. The
+kingdoms of this world shall become the kingdom of our Christ. There
+are no failures in God’s mighty plans. We may vary in our beliefs,
+and differ greatly as to the process by which he shall accomplish his
+wise designs, but this is true: when this world is brought ultimately
+to the feet of Christ, it will have been accomplished not by prayer
+alone but by work and prayer, not by the scholar as a scholar but by
+the men, learned or unlearned, who have discovered the compelling and
+transforming power of a boundless, undying love.
+
+
+
+
+ XIV
+
+ THE STRENGTH OF WEAKNESS
+
+
+An old man was once opening the treasury of his experience to enrich
+the young people of Corinth. Youth ever needs such a benefactor, for
+life’s most difficult problem is to definitely determine upon which
+element or elements of life the emphasis should be placed. Like a
+river, life has so many contributing streams of large volume that it is
+difficult to decide unto which one we are most indebted for our power.
+There is only one way to ascertain this fact, and that is to trace the
+current of life-power to its source and stand, with reverent feet, at
+its utmost gurgling spring. But this task is hard and is fraught with
+danger. What youth, standing at the joining of the currents, can tell
+to a certainty which is the real current and which the contributing
+stream of influence? Among the most pathetic incidents of history are
+those portraying some of our richest and most favored sons of genius
+mistaking a contributing element of life for life itself and spending
+their days within the narrow winding ways of mediocrity. Youth needs
+the open treasury of the past, therefore it is a rare privilege to
+have Paul thus open the treasure chest of his varied and triumphant
+experiences and tell us what is the secret source of life’s richest
+endowment. Looking over a life of many years, covering an intense and
+diversified experience, enriched with mental and spiritual training,
+he declared to the young people of Corinth that the source of personal
+power is weakness.
+
+That is the last place in the world that we would naturally look for
+strength, for we have always been taught that weakness is the absence
+of strength. To be enduring we believed that we should possess the
+rigidity and firmness of the rocks, forgetful that long after the
+red stone walls of Kenilworth have tottered into complete ruin the
+fragile ivy, planted by unknown hands, will still live to cover the
+rough, broken heap of weather-beaten stones with the graceful folds of
+its swaying branches. We have believed that stability depended upon
+rigid strength, not realizing that, in nature, the strong are the most
+fragile, while the weak are the most enduring.
+
+The source of triumphant living is not the adamantine will that refuses
+to bend or budge, but is the will that yields itself to higher power.
+Only when one finds that a feeling of weakness is creeping over him,
+and realizes that, in his own strength alone, he is inadequate for the
+task, does he possess true conquering power. One of the best hours
+of a man’s life is when, through sickness, toil, or persecution, he
+feels his physical powers giving way, and his soul rises to claim
+the occasion for God and his humanity. Knowing that while he himself
+is weak, the needed power is within easy reach, a man is strong. In
+such a crisis, to become self-confident is to be like the hunted
+partridge which, seeking escape, confidently enters the trap set for
+his destruction. Strength comes when, overwhelmed with a sense of
+unutterable weakness, one flings himself at the feet of Christ, and
+prays as did the sinking disciple, “Lord, save me.”
+
+How very true this is in the hours of our severe temptation! No man
+ever sought refuge from temptation in self-confidence who, in the
+strain of battle, did not find his fortress crumbling into dust, while
+he himself suffered humiliating defeat. Simon Peter learned this truth.
+Strong and boastful in his self-assertiveness, he stood amid the
+gathering shadows of the world’s darkest and most tragic night, and
+smiled as one who gladly greets the dawning of his wedding day. He was
+confident, beyond question, that he was equal to any emergency that
+might arise. It was easy for him to boast and proclaim loudly what he
+would do. Beholding the same fast-deepening shadows, Christ fell to
+his knees in prayer, and with broken voice and heavy, blood-stained
+sweat, pleaded for his Father to remove this cup of suffering. Christ,
+the everlasting Conqueror, prays for escape from trial, while Peter,
+filled with self-assurance, bids the coming of the worst with defiant
+spirit, saying, “Though all men should forsake the Master, yet will not
+I.” He boasted bravely that he was ready to die for Christ. There was a
+marked contrast between the ways these two met the same struggle, but
+the whole world knows the outcome. In the presence of trial Peter’s
+strength was scattered like heaps of withered autumn leaves. When he
+was strong then was he weak. Without the passing of the cup Christ
+walked forth strong enough to win a world from sin, while Peter sank
+in shame. But when, a few hours later, we find the defeated disciple,
+all alone, in midnight darkness, weeping like a little child over his
+weakness, we rejoice, for we know now that Pentecost has found its
+preacher, and the world has found a mighty champion for God.
+
+Temptation is a terrible thing. It is a band of armed brigands,
+storming the citadel of the soul to carry away everything that is of
+value. To yield is to have the soul ransacked and burned as though by
+fire. To face it confidently in one’s own strength is gravest folly.
+There is only one possibility of victory. In that hour of peril, when
+eternal destinies are at stake, let one feel his own weakness, and fall
+helplessly at the feet of Christ, and call with all the earnestness and
+pathos of his frightened soul, “Lord, save, or I perish!” and victory
+shall fill his heart with joy and crown his brow with the light of
+heaven.
+
+This truth is applicable to all our sorrows. There have been hours when
+we thought best to meet our sorrows and disappointments with the spirit
+of a stoic. With clinched fists, tight-pressed lips, and dry eyes, we
+stood, proud of our strength, defying sorrow by bidding it to do its
+worst. We insisted that we were not weak like others, and that we would
+boldly bear our own burdens. But the end was defeat and uncontrollable
+grief. The burden was so much heavier and the grief was so much more
+bitter than we had ever expected, that we were crushed and overcome.
+Meanwhile at our side stood one frail and weak, whose bloodshot eyes
+spoke of countless nights of grief and anxiety, but whose calm face and
+steady voice assured us that she had gained a wonderful victory, and,
+in spite of tempest, had inner calm and rest. How came the victory to
+the frail? Because she was frail and knew that she was frail. As headed
+wheat saves its life by bowing passively to the stroking of the violent
+winds, so she bowed low at the touch of sorrow. She yielded herself
+to the will of God. As Mary and Martha, in their hour of sorrow and
+puzzling questions, forgot everything and fell weeping at the feet of
+their Lord, so this woman poured out her prayer of utter helplessness
+to God, saying, “Save, Lord, or I perish,” and in her weakness she
+became strong. The strength that is needed to meet sorrow comes, not
+from self-control, but abandonment to God; not from dry eyes, but from
+tears.
+
+How true this is of our ministries to our brother man! It is not an
+easy matter for one to enter the Holy of holies of another’s grief
+and sorrow, and minister unto them as a true high priest. Before
+the growing work of the church, as it is beginning to live up to
+its conceptions of Christian social service, many of our strongest
+Christians are becoming faint of heart; in its growing work of
+evangelism they become paralyzed with fright; because they cannot see
+how they can approach and minister to those whom they do not know.
+They tremble, not knowing that their very weakness is their source of
+strength. Rash boldness and overconfidence are not part of the true
+Christian’s equipment. With such a spirit no one should dare to enter
+the sacred inclosure of another’s grief. It is only when one refuses
+to trust in human strength or wisdom, and, possessed of a spirit
+of humility, goes forward in the name of Christ, that he can work
+successfully for God. You may feel called upon to do works of charity.
+If so, go forth in weakness. Instead of polished speech upon the lip,
+let there be a teardrop in the eye. The hungry soul will understand and
+rejoice that you have come. In the hour of some one’s sorrow, you may
+be able to give only a tender, silent handclasp; but be not dismayed.
+The mourning one will fully understand and thank God that he sent
+you unto him. You may be sent to lead some sinful soul to Christ. In
+weakness your words may fail, leaving you nothing to offer save a look
+of love. That is enough. Each sinful one will understand, and through
+the light of your loving look will find a pathway back to God. Only
+when we are weak are we strong in the service of Christ.
+
+
+
+
+ XV
+
+ CRUMBLING PALACES
+
+
+The crumbling of our palaces does not necessarily mean loss, especially
+if they be the grotesque ones built in untutored childhood, or
+those planned in moments of unguarded enthusiasm, or given form by
+impractical impulse, or intended for selfish or sinful pleasure. We
+have never tried to live in the blockhouses built upon the nursery
+floor, neither do we mold our lives according to childhood fancies.
+There can be no progress without the compelling power of a well-guided
+enthusiasm, but overwrought enthusiasm is an uncontrollable power
+bringing moral, physical, and financial disaster. The ability to yield
+promptly to righteous impulse is akin to genius, but the impulses of
+an untrained soul are the frenzied switchmen who ditch and wreck the
+train that should have the right of way. When self-interest means the
+developing of brain and talents to establish a worthy character and
+beneficent influence, making one a constructive force in the community,
+it is not to be despised; but when self-interest becomes selfishness,
+the building of a fortified castle in which one lives at the expense
+of others, then is the soul smitten with leprosy, and the home becomes
+a pest-house, not a palace. A place of sin is never a shelter, but a
+death-trap, its elegance of architecture and furnishings making it all
+the more dangerous. There are many palaces unfit for habitation. To
+permit them to decay and crumble into nothingness is greatest gain, for
+to live unworthily is not to live at all.
+
+On the other hand there is a neglect that means a helpless, hopeless
+poverty from which no influence or friendship can bring deliverance.
+When once these palaces are permitted to crumble we become homeless
+outcasts, begging from a world that begrudges us its crumbs. Therefore
+one must consider, not only the beginning, but the upkeep of life.
+
+There is the palace of Character that needs guarding. The beginning
+of the Christian life is only “the beginning.” Here is the peril of
+our present and very popular conception of church membership. A man
+often feels that all that is necessary for his soul’s salvation is
+to go through the soulless process of uniting with some religious
+organization, and it matters not which one he may chance to choose.
+“Joining the church” is looked upon as taking out a spiritual life
+insurance, without any thought of paying premiums through the passing
+years. Having his name duly inscribed upon the records of some
+church gives a man confidence with which to face death, and the
+coming judgment, not realizing that the Church Record will perish
+in the flames of the last day; and that men are judged by comparing
+the records which God has kept with the record that each man writes
+upon the pages of his own body, mind, and soul. Preachers have bigger
+business at the Judgment than carrying their Church Records and
+appearing as counsel for the members of their flocks. They must appear
+at the Judgment and answer for themselves.
+
+Christian living is righteous living, being right with God and
+right with man, in all the dealings of daily life. It is not, like
+vaccination, completed in one short operation, but, like breathing, an
+activity that includes every second of one’s earthly existence. It is
+not moving into a furnished apartment which you can secure by making
+certain payments, but the building of the palace of Character. Stone
+by stone, the great structure is erected, its foundation resting upon
+the solid rock, its walls built with God’s plumb line, its turrets and
+battlements lifted high to receive the blessings of the sky. It is not
+built in a day, but requires the unceasing toil of all our days, else
+it will crumble into hopeless ruin.
+
+Character is not firmly established this side the grave. There are
+no character insurance societies. Right living on the part of youth
+may soon give one a reputation of worth, but after many years of
+faithful living have resulted in a palace, admired of men, one misdeed
+may become a conflagration that will reduce it to ashes; one single
+misspent day may cause the strongest palace to crumble and decay. The
+ruins of Kenilworth are beautiful because covered with English ivy; for
+the ruined walls of Character there is no ivy of sympathy to beautify,
+but the bleak and barren wreckage stands in ghastly hideousness to
+proclaim to all the world the story of the misspent day. Both youth and
+age alike must guard the palace of Character against decay.
+
+There is the palace of Benevolence that needs guarding. In childhood
+we learned the difference between the cold hovel of Selfishness and
+the great palace of Benevolence, with its windows ablaze with light
+to guide our footsteps, and its hearthstone aglow with welcoming
+warmth. How we feared and shunned the selfish soul, not for the lack
+of gifts, but because, with the clear vision of childhood, we beheld
+the deformity of his crabbed soul! How we loved the dweller of the
+palace, not for his gifts, but for the beauty of his smile, the soft
+light of friendship in his eyes, the joy-creating atmosphere in which
+he moved. Then and there we decided to mold our lives after the plans
+of that good man, and be benevolent individuals; not spendthrifts,
+but possessed of rich, red blood, and sympathetic hearts ever open to
+the beauties and needs of life. But we soon learn that the palace of
+Benevolence cannot be built with one deed of benevolence, no matter
+how large and generous it may be. The gift of some great public
+institution, however worthy and serviceable to the people, is not
+enough to mark a man as one who dwells in the palace of Benevolence.
+That coveted abode is built, not by gift or gifts, but by the generous
+spirit with which we daily and hourly meet the world. Benevolence
+is not a gift, nor series of gifts, but the wholesome, generous
+spirit which we manifest toward men. With such a spirit one builds a
+beautiful palace in which to dwell, but one that is very easily marred
+and destroyed. One selfish desire, once hardening the heart against
+another’s need, one greedy, grasping longing or desire, and the palace
+beautiful crumbles into dust; and they who once rejoiced at our coming
+will turn away with the contempt with which all men greet unworthiness.
+
+There also is the palace of Prayer. No earthly dwelling is so beautiful
+as that which one builds for his soul through communion with God.
+Always situated upon the lofty heights, above the lowlands of sin and
+dusty ways of worldliness, it lifts its towers and pinnacles into a
+cloudless sky. The view is clear and unobstructed, so that one sees the
+affairs of life in their true relations to the great world of which
+they are a part. The struggles of their fellow men are in clear sight
+and therefore observed with sympathetic, understanding heart. The sky
+is close, and when the sun is set the stars peer through the shadowy
+canopy, and smile. The atmosphere is fresh and pure, made fragrant with
+the breath of heaven, and he who breathes it feels a power divine.
+Nothing is more beautiful than the palace of Prayer.
+
+Nevertheless, the palace may crumble and become a hopeless heap of
+dust. Where once stood a vision of spirituality one can see nothing but
+that which is of the earth earthy. A hidden sin within the heart, that
+slyly steals away one’s love for God; a subtle spirit of worldliness,
+that deadens the soul until it ceases to respond to things divine; a
+gnawing doubt that, like the white ants of India, honeycomb the timbers
+of the bravest, strongest souls--all these cause the crumbling of the
+palace.
+
+The palaces of the soul, however well established, require a watchful
+eye and careful guarding. The powers of evil are destroying elements
+that beat and pound upon the shelters of the soul with destructive
+fury. But even then, a well-built palace need not crumble. He who
+has the Carpenter of Nazareth as his daily Companion may build for
+eternity. Keeping the sayings of the Master means that the house is
+firmly fixed upon a strong foundation and that all its timbers are
+strongly knit together; so that when the floods come and the winds blow
+and beat upon it; when a legion of devils encamp about and lay siege
+upon the soul; when fires sweep, and earthquakes work their devastation
+to this planet, these palaces, not made with hands, and not constructed
+from earthly material, the palaces of Character, Benevolence, and
+Communion with God, shall not be moved. They shall shelter us here and
+be eternal in the heavens.
+
+
+
+
+ XVI
+
+ THE ECHO OF LIFE’S UNSUNG SONGS
+
+
+We are familiar with the echo of life’s unfinished songs. The
+unfinished songs of confidence, sung by the martyrs as they stood upon
+the yellow sands of the Coliseum, looking upward beyond the soft blue
+of the Italian sky to heights hitherto unseen, have never ceased to
+vibrate through the centuries. The unfinished songs of sacrifice and
+patriotism which were sung by our soldiers and sailors who perished in
+the world-wide war are still echoing in the music of every wave that
+laves the shores of every sea. We are all familiar with the lingering
+music of life’s unfinished songs, but it is well for us to consider
+also the echo of the songs that have never found expression in word or
+tune.
+
+Each soul is a minstrel whether he wills it or no, for God has
+fashioned a harp for every heart. There is a tradition that above the
+head of David’s couch there hung his favorite harp. The mountain winds
+coming through the midnight silence would stir its strings, awaken the
+sleeping lover of song, and bid him weave words of love to fit the
+wind-wrought music. Thus were the Psalms created. To each individual
+God has intrusted a priceless harp, tight drawn with silver chords of
+love, and sensitive to every touch of passing wind and falling sunbeam.
+So delicate are these heart-strings that every event of life awakens
+the dormant music and fills the soul with harmonies divine. Behold how
+sensitive they are.
+
+The day has been dull and gloomy and you have not cared to go abroad.
+After a while you become reminiscent. As though led by an unseen
+hand you enter a quiet, unused room and lift the lid of a quaint,
+old-fashioned chest. You know not why your followed impulses led you
+there, but you are glad that you obeyed the leading, for there, resting
+quietly amid fragrant lavender, is a treasured gift that came from a
+mother’s hand. It has been lying there for many years, untouched and
+unseen, but how beautiful its faded colors, how lovely its wrinkled
+folds placed there by the hands so long since turned to dust! and how,
+out of the dim mists of the past, it brings the soft colors and clear
+outlines of a dear, sweet face! There are tears in your eyes, but more
+and better than that, there is music in your soul. Every string of your
+heart is vibrant with melody.
+
+One morning you were ill and did not care to go to the office. You were
+indisposed just enough to enjoy the rich luxury of being waited upon,
+when, suddenly and unexpectedly, your eyes rested upon an old-fashioned
+picture that strangely and wondrously stirred your heart. For years it
+had been hanging there with its treasured memories, but you had been
+too busy to notice it. How charming its exquisite beauty as it greeted
+you from out its odd, old-styled frame. Its colors, mellowed with the
+passing years, carried you back triumphantly to the sun-bright days of
+the long ago, and the soul was stirred with music that charmed, and
+soothed, and inspired.
+
+The harp-strings of the heart are very sensitive. A finger-print or
+tear-stain upon the leaves of the old family Bible, the frail petals
+of a faded blossom, the sight of a tiny yellow garment or baby shoe, a
+package of letters tied with ribbon, or a scrap of paper scrawled by
+unskilled childish fingers, just little things that no one else admires
+or notices, is all that is required to start the music ringing in our
+hearts.
+
+To this music the soul always responds with a song. This is true even
+when one’s musical education has been neglected. The ear may not be
+able to distinguish one note from another, or discern the difference
+between “Old Hundred” and “The Star-Spangled Banner”; the individual
+may know nothing about harmony, time, or measure, when listening to
+the music that others have given to the world, but his own soul can
+always sing its own melodies. There is no note so high in the scale
+that the soul cannot reach it. I have heard the English lark lift
+its silver notes until they melted into sunshine and fell in great
+billows of joy upon the listening earth. Every soul can sing like that.
+As above the couch of David hung the harp awaiting the touch of the
+passing winds, so each heart is a stringed harp awaiting the touch
+of some common event to awaken music and set the soul to singing its
+minstrelsies.
+
+However beautiful these songs, they never pass the threshold of the
+lips. Their sweetness surpasses the power of expression. That must
+have been the reason why Mendelssohn wept so bitterly at times. With
+all his marvelous power in weaving tones he could not give expression
+to the rapturous melodies which were surging through his soul. This
+also explains why Michael Angelo so often gave way to the dreariest
+despondency. Though he try never so hard, he could not express upon
+canvas or in marble form the heavenly symphonies that were thrilling
+his soul. The reason that Lord Tennyson stood for such long periods
+upon the cliffs, overlooking the sea, not hearing the call of an
+approaching friend, was that his soul was searching through earth and
+sea and sky, for words with which to express the songs his soul was
+ever singing.
+
+The deepest and most valuable emotions of life are always
+inexpressible. How useless is human speech in the presence of the
+deep feelings of awe and reverence! I stood with a friend upon one of
+the great heights of the Catskills. He was a genial man, and the day
+had been filled with merriment. Rounding a curve, we came suddenly to
+the edge of a great cliff overlooking the Hudson valley. At our feet
+were many miles of forest trees mantling the hills and valleys with
+the brilliant coloring of Autumn foliage. We could count a score of
+villages nestled peacefully among the meadows and fields of ripened
+grain. The Hudson River rolled its silver length in the distance,
+while, far, far beyond us, draped in blue, we saw the hills and
+mountains of another State. Beholding what, in many respects, was the
+most soul-entrancing revelation of nature’s glory I had ever witnessed,
+neither of us spoke. The moments slipped by with slippered feet and the
+mid-afternoon became evening, before either of us broke the silence.
+It is sacrilegious for one to undertake to express the holy sentiments
+of awe and reverence in the clumsy garb of human speech. This is true
+of all deep feeling. Standing in the presence of a bereaved friend,
+shallow souls can chatter idle phrases, but deep, healing, tender
+sympathy is expressed in the silence of a handclasp and unspoken word.
+Looking into the deep, expressive eyes of one whom we love, our lips
+are silent and only the tear-filled eye tells of the song the soul is
+singing. Have you ever been able to tell your mother how much you loved
+her? The real songs of the soul are of necessity the unsung songs.
+
+These songs are the real songs, for the soul life is the real life.
+They may never be heard by others, but you hear them, and their words
+never die. They echo through the years. There is never a moment of
+thoughtful meditation, never a season of seclusion; never a period of
+sickness when the things of the world are shut out and one is left
+alone with the things of the soul; never a season of disappointment, or
+sorrow, or bereavement, or heartache, but that the hour is made blessed
+and hallowed with the memory of these songs, and lo, while one listens,
+all earth and heaven become vibrant with music and one is charmed and
+soothed with the echo of life’s unsung songs. While exiled upon the
+lonely heights of Patmos John heard a song that thrilled the heaven of
+heavens, but none save the multitude before the throne could learn the
+song. That is easily understood. It was not a song blending the varied
+experiences of earth together into one mighty outburst of love; it was
+the soul weaving all the unsung songs which no one on earth had ever
+heard or could ever understand into one great symphony with which to
+praise the God of its salvation. Life’s unsung songs shall never cease
+to live in earth and heaven. Their echoes are our comfort here, our joy
+forever.
+
+
+
+
+ XVII
+
+ MODERN JUDASES
+
+
+The story of Judas casts a dark shadow through the sunlight of twenty
+centuries. His deed was more than a betrayal of friendship. Lady
+Macbeth, coming from the chamber of death into the candlelight and
+beholding her lily-white hands stained ruby red with the blood of
+murdered friendship, and fearing to wash them, lest the ocean’s flood
+should tell to every rock-bound coast the blushing secret of her guilt,
+was not half so bad as Judas. This deed was more than the betrayal of
+friendship; it was the dark hand of villainy, reaching from behind
+the dark curtains of selfishness, that with the keen blade of greed
+he might pierce the unprotected breast of innocence. It was a tragedy
+that, with each decade’s growth in love, becomes more atrocious in the
+eyes of men.
+
+Named after Judas Maccabæus, one of the most illustrious characters
+of Jewish history, good enough and gifted enough to be chosen as a
+disciple, and possessing such integrity of character that he was chosen
+treasurer of the group, Judas began his public career auspiciously.
+For three years he had been associated with Christ in the most
+intimate manner. He had entered cities and passed through country
+places, preaching and performing miracles, until returning with radiant
+face he said with the other disciples, “Even the devils are subject
+unto us.” Having been lifted out of his old self, he rejoiced in the
+delights of noble living. Within a few weeks he would have been able
+to stand with Peter at Pentecost and take his place among the world’s
+beloved immortals. Then came the awakening. He had followed Christ
+through the fragrant fields of the Beatitudes and under the clear
+sky of the Sermon on the Mount; he had seen Christ, at the sacrifice
+of rest and comfort, change barren lives into beauty, as the sun
+adorns barren branches with clustered fruit; and now, as his life was
+approaching the crisis, Judas could see where the road was leading,
+and he became frightened. He saw that the end of the Christ-journey
+was not toward worldly triumph, but toward sorrow, not to a palace,
+but a bleak mountainside, not toward a throne, but a cross; and he
+began to think of himself. “What shall I do?” Like one facing a panic
+he stood petrified with terror. Seeing the investment of three long
+years trembling in the balance, he did not think it businesslike to
+follow Christ any further. His love for money so blinded his eyes
+that he could not see the moral grandeur of Christ’s program. Angered
+and disappointed, he deserted his post, sought the seclusion of the
+night-time shadows to complete his plans. Well does the inspired writer
+add, “And it was night.” Of course it was night; dark, starless,
+moonless night, for he had allowed his love for money to eclipse the
+Light of Life.
+
+From then on there was only one light attractive to Judas, and that
+was the luring light of avarice and greed. Seeking for it, he found
+it. Like the red fires of hell it burst into flaming stream from
+the high priest’s windows, where Arrogance and Lust for Power were
+plotting against the innocent. Rushing toward it, out of breath, his
+hands clutching his garments, his brow wet with perspiration, his eyes
+staring madly with greed for gold, he demanded: “What will you give
+me?” Shrewd and crafty, these unscrupulous leaders of men knew that the
+language of love and friendship could not be understood by this grasper
+of gain; so they used the only language he could now understand and
+wanted to hear--the language of the market place; and “they promised
+him money.”
+
+This is one of the darkest pictures in history, its black shadow
+reaching through the centuries, but it does not hang alone in the
+galleries of death. There are others still making the awful bargain of
+Judas, and gladly sacrificing the innocent for the sake of financial
+gain.
+
+Behold the unscrupulous real-estate dealers who force houses of immoral
+character into clean, residential sections of cities, betraying the
+cause of righteousness, injuring homes, and damning the souls of
+hundreds. Because immorality promises a more handsome and immediate
+return for the investment they become partners in the exploiting of
+sin and crime. As Judas went into the quietude of the Mount of Olives
+and brought wreck and ruin, so these men insidiously lead marauding
+bands of immoral workers into the best communities, well knowing that
+their deed means the betrayal of youth and maiden, but refusing to give
+it a thought, their attention fixed only on the increasing volume of
+business. The good name of a city or community, the value of innocence,
+and the sanctity of the home are nothing to these modern Judases.
+
+Behold the employers of child labor, who, under the disguise of
+charitably giving employment to the poor, are reaping revenues that
+provide them with luxuries at the cost of blasted lives. Many of our
+shops, stores, and factories are but presses where the life, hope,
+vigor, and vision of childhood are crushed out in order to fill to the
+brim the intoxicating cup of extravagance for people whose own lives
+are too foul and unfit to be used as grapes in their own presses. Daily
+the bright-faced boys and girls, the hope of the nation, are crowded
+out of the public school into the vats. Hour by hour their lives are
+pressed out until, broken in body, dwarfed in intellect, incapacitated
+for works of social service, falling far short of the requirements made
+upon their later years, they are thrown aside as useless pomace. The
+uncontrollable spirit of greed that places money above the value of
+life and happiness and goodness is the spirit of Judas.
+
+Behold the owners of tenement houses, those breeding places of filth
+and sin, where little children are compelled to live and die, or live
+and curse the world. Their only memories of childhood will be those of
+the crowded alley, foul hallways, and darkened corners in which they
+hide in fear. The memory of a mother’s face will be vague, ever hidden
+in the darkness and gloom in which she spent her days. Why do they
+not have fresh air? Greed. Why do they not have fresh water to drink?
+Greed. Why do their buildings not have good sanitation? Greed. Modern
+Judases are they all.
+
+Behold the men who are commercializing amusements. Men and women need
+recreation, and children must have places to play. The human body
+is not made of harder material than the locomotive, that requires
+rest between its trips, or, growing tired, refuses to carry its load.
+Therefore it is necessary to have places of recreation and exercise.
+But where shall the children go? The best bathing beaches of ocean,
+lake, and river bank are owned by money-making syndicates, and the
+people are compelled to pay for privileges which are their own by the
+right of birth and citizenship. More than this, since money is the
+objective, and the people must patronize their places, having no other
+places to go, they offend decency by catering to the coarse and vulgar
+element of the community, thus becoming places of moral contamination
+instead of places of recreation. This is also true of our theaters,
+moving picture houses, and amusement parks. That which is presented is
+very often so uncouth that modesty must hide her face.
+
+The deadening influence of the modern movies, their teachings of sex
+and treatment of marriage, is clearly shown in their effect upon the
+actors and actresses themselves. They have enacted these parts so
+often, and lived in the atmosphere where these things are discussed as
+the predominating tastes of the people, that the unnatural teachings
+have become their conceptions of real life until the story of their
+divorces and remarriages has scandalized all decent society. Beside
+the colonies of moving picture celebrities, Salt Lake City and other
+Mormon strongholds seem quite tame. If the moving picture has such a
+demoralizing influence over the actors and actresses, who are matured
+men and women, what will be the effect upon the growing generations?
+Already the atmosphere of school and playground is vitiated. The evil
+effects are already manifest to every conscientious Christian social
+worker. To silence the protests of a righteous guarding of the morals
+of the young, the moving picture corporations have set aside large
+amounts to prevent the needed legislation regulating censorship.
+
+The work of these modern Judases does not end here, but they insist
+upon the prostitution of the Sabbath day for their ungodly enterprises.
+For the sake of making money they are endeavoring to lead America in
+the same direction Europe has been traveling, and to the same tragic
+fate. Childhood and the Christian Sabbath are being desecrated every
+hour by these Judases whose one question in life is, “What will you
+give me?”
+
+It is time for an aroused citizenship to enter protest against these
+evils. We cannot prevent Judas from having base desires, nor giving
+his traitorous kiss, but we can compel Pilate, the officer, to render
+righteous judgment. Jesus was crucified, not because Judas kissed
+him, but because Pilate was a moral coward. Pilate washed his hands,
+declaring himself “innocent,” but every man in the mob knew that he was
+guilty. We cannot prevent Judas betraying, but we can create public
+sentiment which will compel officers to reach protecting hand against
+the greed of our modern Judases.
+
+
+
+
+ XVIII
+
+ THE ADJUSTABLE UNIVERSE
+
+
+That God should adjust a universe so that all of its forces and
+energies should be at the instant disposal of those who, through
+obedience to his laws, lay claim to them, should not seem strange
+when we realize how perfectly we are now adjusting our mechanical and
+social conditions to meet the hourly needs of the body. The water
+supply of many of our large cities is pumped and propelled by what
+is known as the Holly Engine. Its regulation is perfectly automatic.
+Without any apparent cause, there is a constant change in the amount
+of steam produced. The engineer busies himself by oiling the bearings
+and polishing the shafts, but seems utterly indifferent to the pressure
+of the steam as it relates itself to the varying demands of the great
+city. The fact is that the engineer does not need to concern himself
+with the regulating of the engine, for the people of the city regulate
+it for themselves.
+
+Whenever a faucet is opened the draft in the engine is correspondingly
+opened, the fires burn brighter, the steam is increased, and the action
+of the pumps instantly accelerated. The larger the quantity of water
+needed, the wider the drafts, the stronger the fires, the greater the
+pressure of steam, the more active the huge pumps that labor to meet
+the increased demand. Quickly close the faucets, stop the outlet of
+water entirely, and the pumps will become inactive. So perfect is this
+adjustment that the smallest child, many miles away, may change the
+speed of the engine at will. It is designed to meet the needs of every
+person in the city, whether it be but a cup of water to moisten the
+fevered lips of a little child or great streams with which to fight the
+mighty conflagrations that threaten the life of the city.
+
+If man, out of common ore which he digs from the hills, can build
+machinery to meet the varying need of his fellow man, should it seem
+such an incredible thing that God, who made the human soul, could, out
+of his unlimited, unmeasured spiritual forces, arrange to instantly
+meet the need of every human soul? God can and God does. The fact is
+that the whole universe is so arranged. There is not a need of the soul
+of man that cannot be immediately satisfied, if one puts himself in
+obedient touch with the fixed spiritual laws that control the required
+forces, as, for the thirsty lips, we intelligently reach out, turn the
+faucet, and draw the cup of water.
+
+It is at this point that the learned individual who loudly praises
+himself upon being a practical observer of life, takes most positive
+exceptions and insists that the weakness of the Church is this very
+insistence upon what, to him, seems the miraculous. He has not been
+able to observe that the strength of the Church is her belief in the
+laws governing prayer, compliance with which instantly brings all the
+Infinite resources of the sky to meet and fully satisfy the needs of
+the soul. The fault is not in God’s method of procedure, but in the
+narrow prejudices which the critic mistakes for the laws of logic.
+Let us consider the laws governing prayer as revealed in an old-time
+incident.
+
+Her eyes red with weeping, and her face deeply drawn with sorrow, a
+lonely woman was pleading with Elisha for help. Out from dark shadows,
+she was journeying toward deeper gloom. She had just buried her
+husband, on the morrow she must journey to the auction block where her
+two sons, her only means of support, were to be sold into slavery, to
+meet the debts of her dead husband. She was helpless and heart-broken
+in her poverty. “What shall I do for thee? What hast thou in the
+house?” asked the solicitous prophet. “Thy handmaiden hath not anything
+in the house save”--and she faltered--“save a pot of ointment.” All
+her furniture and cooking utensils had been sold to help meet her
+financial obligations. There was only one thing left, and that was the
+jar of ointment which every Jewish person kept for the anointing of the
+dead. This was never disposed of. Then came the command, “Borrow empty
+vessels, and borrow not a few.”
+
+The two boys were set to work. The novelty of the situation whetted
+their curiosity and ambition and it was not long until the mother
+announced that there were enough vessels and that the doors and windows
+should be tightly closed. Then, with trembling fingers, she opened the
+little jar and began to empty its contents into the larger vessels.
+Three smiling faces bent over the open mouths of the jars, when, to
+their wonderment, the little jar had filled every one of the larger
+ones. Now there was no need of worry. The prayer had been answered. The
+sale of the oil would more than meet all the demands of the creditors.
+It was wonderful, but natural.
+
+Prayer is answered only according to the law of continuity. There were
+more than a thousand ways in which God could have come to the relief of
+the widow. The prophet’s touch could have filled the empty vessels to
+overflowing, as once a prophet’s touch melted granite rock into crystal
+streams of water; his touch could have filled the hut with abounding
+wealth; common dust might have gleamed as jewels; unexpected gifts
+might have been poured forth as rain; but they did not. God meets the
+emergencies of life through the law of continuity. The way of increase
+is always yielding what we have to the workings of higher laws. The
+small cruse held the secret of the overflowing jars. Hunger comes and
+God asks, “What hast thou?” and the husbandman answers, “Thy servant
+hath not anything save a handful of grain.” Then comes the command,
+“Take it to the well-plowed field, and pour it out.” He does so, and
+the field overflows with harvest. For the vine that man plants God
+gives the purple clusters; for the seed he sows God gives a loaf of
+bread. Like always produces like, and in prayer is followed the law
+of increase. What you have saved from what you have already owned,
+determines the nature of God’s answer to your petitions. If your heart
+hungers for sympathy, take the cruse of sympathy and pour it into the
+empty vessel of another’s life. The world yields no sympathy to the
+unsympathetic, but never fails to return with increase each expression
+of tender solicitude. If you pray for comforting power to heal an
+old wound, take whatever power of comfort you possess, and begin to
+minister to hearts that break. You will find increase that will fill
+every empty vessel of your heart, and gladness shall take the place
+of sorrow. If you are praying for financial aid, consecrate whatever
+strength of brain and muscle you possess to hard, clean work, and the
+return will richly recompense you. If you are asking God to make you
+of service to the world, pour out your life into the empty ones about
+you, and your petition will be granted. This is the law of spiritual
+adjustment. Along the lines of your own individuality will God prepare
+you for the larger task to-morrow.
+
+We must also remember that the increase is determined, not by divine
+limitations, but by our own capacity. The command to the widow
+was, “Borrow empty vessels, and borrow _not a few_.” God placed no
+limitations, but, rather, gave urgent command to plan for large things.
+She could have borrowed a thousand empty vessels and a thousand vessels
+would have been filled. Her blessing was determined the moment she said
+to the boys who were securing the jars from the excited neighbors,
+“That is enough, you need not borrow more.” That moment she determined
+the amount of answer her prayers would receive. The oil ceased to flow
+when she had reached the limit of her preparation. What a tremendous
+truth! Our growth and spiritual attainments are unlimited so far as
+God is concerned. The possibility of development is unlimited so far
+as this world is concerned, for empty vessels and empty hearts are
+everywhere. Our growth is limited only by the breadth of our sympathies
+and the scope of our interests.
+
+Borrow empty vessels, and _borrow not a few_. What a challenge to the
+church of the living God! Begin to think and plan in big terms. “_Not
+a few._” These are the words of One who thinks in numbers large enough
+to include all the grains of sand in all the oceans and all the stars
+of the universe. Count the forest leaves and the grass-blades and
+raindrops, and then ask yourself what God means when he says “_not a
+few_.” May the Christ of social service show the church of to-day that
+her power is limited only by her vision of her opportunity.
+
+
+
+
+ XIX
+
+ SEEING LOVE
+
+
+The value of life is measured by the power of vision. The savage,
+tramping the diamond beneath his feet, and clinging to tooth and claw
+of the wild animals he has slain, represents a very narrow, restricted
+life, for he possessed a narrow vision. Beholding fruit-bearing trees,
+he saw only the crab and wild cherry of bitter taste. Looking across
+the open fields, he saw only the wind-tossed, tangled grass whose
+matted meshes made slow his travel. Along the wayside he saw only the
+daisy, and the thorn-mass of the wild rose bush forming a convenient
+place in which to hide while making observations. Because in the crab
+he could not see the possibilities of the Northern Spy, and because
+in the wild cherry he could not see the luscious Oxheart, his travel
+lacked refreshing fruit. Because in the tangled grass he could not see
+the gleaming gold of ripened grain, he had no food in time of famine.
+Because the weedlike daisy did not suggest the chrysanthemum, and the
+wild rose foretell the American Beauty, his pathway was commonplace.
+
+Following the savage came those of wider vision, and soon the fields
+assumed the golden vesture of the ripened harvests, the hillsides
+became rich with luscious fruit, and life’s pathway was fringed with
+beauty.
+
+Each individual makes his own universe, using only, out of the vastness
+of God’s provision, such things as he has eyes to see. In the broad,
+open, western plains, with far-extending horizon and translucent sky
+bedecked with bits of light to lure the seeing soul to heights heroic,
+lives one whose universe is no wider than his daily task, and whose
+zenith has never ascended above his hat-crown. Careless in observation,
+his universe is scarcely larger than the dug-out in which he crawls
+at night to sleep. Dwelling in a dark room of the crowded tenement,
+bound by the cords of sickness to a sufferer’s bed of pain, lies one
+who knows nothing of the majesty of wind-swept fields, or vastness of
+the star-lit sky, but whose careful observations have made a zenith
+high enough to overarch the throne of God, and a horizon wide enough to
+include every need of the human soul.
+
+The richness of life depends largely upon how many of the things of
+life which ordinary people call commonplace can be crowded into the
+range of vision. The man possessing most of earth is not necessarily
+a landowner, but he who, whether rich or poor, learns to observe and
+appreciate the things about him. Christ never owned a foot of land.
+Standing in the dusty highway, worn and weary by countless deeds of
+sacrificial love, he exclaimed: “The foxes have holes, and the birds
+of the air have nests; but the Son of man has not where to lay his
+head.” He was poverty-stricken, yet, in all the history of the world,
+never was one so rich as he. For him every lily held a golden casket
+filled with an unmeasured wealth of inspiration. For him the birds
+winged their way from heights celestial to sing their songs of divine
+forethought. Each color of the sky was a prophet proclaiming the things
+of God. Speaking to his disciples, men who would necessarily remain
+poor and homeless, he said: “Blessed are the meek [those who are not
+looking for thrones of authority and power, but who, in humble state,
+learn to see the divine vision], for they own the earth.”
+
+I know such an one. A laborer in the field, he spends his life toiling
+for the one he loves, living in a rented cottage, faring on common
+food, dressing in coarse-woven garments, and yet possessing untold
+wealth. With blistered feet and sweat-washed brow, I have seen him
+coming home, smiling with beaming tenderness, as he carefully held in
+his calloused hand the frail, pink petals of the first spring beauty he
+had found blooming by his way. He never owned anything in particular,
+yet there was nothing in the universe that he did not possess and enjoy
+with rapturous heart. He knows that the voice of God is heard, not
+only in the roar of turbulent cataract, or reverberating peal of the
+majestic thunder, but also in the bog and quagmire.
+
+ “For in the mud and scum of things,
+ There’s always something, something sings.”
+
+He possesses a wealth that is indestructible. When one gazes so
+intently upon a flower that he beholds it as it really is, he has
+blessed the flower with immortality and his soul with an unfading
+beauty. The moment he truly beholds it, God transplants it to his soul,
+where it can never die, but live and bloom forever and forever.
+
+Christ came to enrich man’s experience by the process of extending his
+range of vision, teaching him that what meekness does for magnifying
+his conception of the natural world, piety does for the soul’s
+conception of the spiritual world. “Blessed are the pure in heart: for
+they shall see God,” and afterwards adding, “God is love.” As humility
+gives one possession of the earth, purity gives one vision to behold
+the divine mystery of love.
+
+One of the secrets of Christ’s triumphant place in history was this
+vision of purity that enabled him to see the redeeming goodness in
+the hearts of the world’s outcasts. Christ could see love, therefore,
+when the pious priests were sitting with folded hands waiting for
+something to transpire that was worthy of their attention, he was busy
+in city street and country lane seeking to save that which was lost. He
+could see love, therefore when the self-righteous churchman, through
+prejudice, was blind to his neighbor’s need, he was toiling in the
+service of the loving heart. Busy men and women could see nothing in
+childhood, while Christ, with purity of heart, could look down upon
+these little ones, and, seeing the love that bubbles up in baby hearts
+to overflow in kisses, smiles, and laughter, lifted them to that high
+throne where value is measured only in terms of love. The pious ones
+saw the raving demoniac standing amid the desolations of the tombs, and
+felt that he was too far gone to help. Looking deep within this poor
+man’s heart, Christ saw his innate love for home, and never stopped
+until he had brought him into subjection to his words of power, and
+sent him, well and happy, to his home and family.
+
+The zealous religionists saw only evil in the poor woman who, escaping
+the rough grasp of her captors, was crouching at the feet of Christ,
+fearful and ashamed to look upward. Looking into her heart he saw less
+sin than love--love that was deep, and pure, and changeless, as only a
+woman’s love can be; therefore, instead of killing her because of sin,
+he forgave her because she loved, and then bade her go and live the
+life triumphant.
+
+Men accustomed to the scenes of crucifixion were not stirred when
+one of the crucified uttered a prayer for pardon. It was a common
+occurrence and put down as one of the strange expressions of
+loneliness; but to Jesus it was all important. Looking into the heart
+of the dying thief, Christ saw a worth-while love for that which was
+good and of finer quality, therefore he astonished even those who knew
+him best by lifting him out of sin and taking him with him to paradise.
+
+Living triumphantly necessitates one possessing the vision of purity,
+without which one cannot see God. Mother holds the preeminent place in
+every life, because her true living has kept her vision clear, and she
+sees the good that lies deep within the hearts of her children. Her son
+may become an outcast in the sight of others. Filled with iniquity,
+and helpless in the terrible grasp of passion, he may have lost faith
+in himself and says: “There is no hope for me.” The world hears, and
+readily agrees, and says that the young man is hopeless. But not the
+mother. To mother there is always hope. Her boy must not be thrown
+away, for he is of infinite value. She never notices his sin; she sees
+only the soul that lies hidden like a jewel beneath the rubbish of his
+transgressions. Seeing the love within his soul which others could not
+see, because they lacked the necessary love to see, her vision became
+the power that not only defies but completely changes public opinion.
+Because she loves much, she redeems and saves him, and compels the
+community to accept him as one who has wandered away, but has come back
+to the Father’s house. Blessed are the pure in heart, for unto them
+is given vision to see good in every one, and to behold their Lord in
+every event of life.
+
+
+
+
+ XX
+
+ THE DIGNITY OF LABOR
+
+
+There is no liberty without toil. To enjoy the freedom of the sunshine,
+the germinating seed must lift and throw aside the clod which outweighs
+it a thousandfold. Before the blossom can unwrap its tinted petals in
+the sunlight it must, with the warmth of its own healthy growth, melt
+the wax that seals it in its winter sepulcher, and with its increasing
+strength tear away the rough bud-scales and hurl them to the ground.
+The oriole wings its way and fills the afternoon with song, only, after
+earnest effort, it has liberated itself from the imprisoning shell.
+
+Toil is the golden key which God gave the human race, that it might
+find escape from the self-inflicted slavery of sin. “In the sweat
+of thy face shalt thou eat bread” was not a curse pronounced by an
+offended Deity, but Love’s whispered secret of escape from harm.
+Standing amid the wreck of a sin-torn paradise, man looked through the
+open archway of these six words--“In the sweat of thy face”--and saw
+the possibilities of a world-wide Eden. Beholding the fruit begin to
+fail, and the greensward become tangled with brush and bramble, Fear
+said: “You shall die of hunger.” “In the sweat of thy face” revealed
+broad acres filled with health-giving ripening grain and orchards laden
+with luscious fruit. Beholding the lakes become stagnant, and the river
+beds becoming dry and parched, Fear said: “You shall perish of thirst.”
+“In the sweat of thy face” revealed vineyards adrip with purple wine,
+and desert lands abloom with beauty because man would learn to train
+the mountain streams to follow where he led. Yea, more, “In the sweat
+of thy face” opened a pathway through which Hope ran to find salvation
+from the deadly power of sin. Coming back, with face aglow, that bright
+clad Angel bade man first to give his strength in building an altar on
+which to offer heartfelt thanks to God, who had made the human hand
+with which to toil and rebuild paradise.
+
+Happy and fortunate is the man who learns to do his daily stint of work
+with a cheerful heart. To him shall be the joy of understanding that
+the ordinary duties of life are not burdens sent to crush him to earth,
+but blessings through which he is to work out his own salvation.
+
+Behold how man’s labors have redeemed the world from barrenness. Soft,
+yielding swamps have become hard-paved streets of famous cities,
+over which the unappreciative multitudes walk or ride in perfect
+comfort. Where once the heated winds blew the drifting sands to-day the
+gentle zephyrs fan the rich, green meadows. Where once the untrained,
+tangled vines broke down the struggling tree upon which they clung,
+the vineyards yield their purple clusters, and the orchards give
+forth their wealth of sweet and luscious fruit. Where once the wild
+weeds threw their choking pollen to the wind, the aster, rose, and
+proud chrysanthemum wave upon graceful stems and toss their pretty
+petals to and fro. Where once the savage stretched his tents of skins,
+brown-stone mansions lift their open portals in invitation to the
+weary sons of toil. By the sweat of man’s brow, by the toiling of the
+multitudes, we are saved from desolation and made to dwell securely
+among the gardens.
+
+Toil saves from sickness. Without the putting forth of physical effort
+all men are weaklings. To be a producer, to change the strength of
+brain and muscle into that which is of value to his fellow man, is
+not only necessary if he would play his part in the great social
+institution of which he finds himself a part, but it is necessary
+for his own mental, physical, and spiritual salvation. Grinding out
+his days in unceasing industry, many a man curses his lot and wishes
+earnestly for idleness, not knowing that toil is the making of a
+man with strong muscles, firm flesh, large lung capacity, and good
+digestion, for toil forces the blood in rapid circulation. Honest toil
+is the best tonic. When asked what was the secret of his good health,
+a great statesman responded, “Hard work.” Overfed, full of gout, and
+ill humored, a certain man of ease requested a celebrated physician to
+prescribe for him. “Live upon sixpence a day, and earn it,” was the
+advice. Over one half of the invalids of the world could be almost
+instantly cured, if they would concentrate their attention, and direct
+all their strength, in carrying forward some worthy enterprise.
+Caring for a garden is a good preventive for consumption. Labor means
+exercise, exercise means health. Common toil is God’s prescription by
+which we are to work out our salvation from many days of sickness and
+depression.
+
+Labor preserves us from needless sorrow. Imagine the condition of Adam
+leaving Eden with all his faculties save that which would enable him to
+concentrate his energies upon some worth-while task--with the power to
+think and ponder over the hardships of his fallen situation; with the
+marvelous power of memory to recall his faded days of gladness; with
+the power of a good imagination, to paint fairer, brighter pictures
+for the future, and yet without the power to organize these faculties
+for action, thus having no force of character with which to achieve.
+Such life would be worse than death, no matter what evils death might
+bring. But through the gracious promise of the sweat-washed brow man
+found surcease for sorrow in attempting to build a better garden for
+himself and little ones. There is no happiness save that which results
+in using one’s strength and talents in honest endeavor. Idleness breeds
+discontent, worry, and fear. It adds a thousand pangs to every grief
+and sorrow. The most unhappy and therefore the most unfortunate people
+in the world are those who have the financial resources to sit in
+idleness and nurse their grief. Better by far be the poor woman who
+leaves her dead, and goes to scrub the floors of a public building, for
+in her honest toil she finds a healing, comforting touch. Toil makes
+one forget his grief, soothes him with a gentle hand, and permits the
+grace of God to heal the wounded soul and broken heart.
+
+Labor is a strong tower that shields one from the onslaughts of
+temptation. It is the idle hand that Satan seeks. One half of our
+incarcerated criminals owe their position to the fact that they
+refused to accept the protecting power of toil to keep them in the
+way of righteousness. Having nothing to do, they fell in with evil
+companions. Having nothing to do, they partook of questionable
+amusements. Having nothing to do, they followed the evil leading of
+their passions. Having nothing to do, sin and disgrace made them easy
+captives. One way of salvation is to escape from temptation, and one
+of the best ways to escape temptation is to be so busily occupied with
+clean, honest, manly endeavor, that the devil has no access to the mind
+with either spoken word or secret thought. Work out your salvation from
+temptation.
+
+Labor may also contribute largely to the developing of Christian
+character. There would be no backsliding in our churches if those who
+profess the name of Christ would engage in his great enterprise of
+saving and redeeming the world. The growing spirit of indifference,
+that is paralyzing so many of our religious activities, could not be,
+had men not become idlers in the Kingdom. Business men look upon the
+church and say that it is weak because it has no program. This is
+true. We lacked a program, not because we had no program, but because
+we refused to follow the one that God gave us. The church is far from
+being dead. Those who have kept true to their Divine Lord, and have
+humbly, but earnestly worked his works, have been saved from all these
+temptations to sin and worldliness, and their ardor to-day is brighter
+than on the day they first gave their hearts to Christ.
+
+Then let us get to work. Labor cannot save us from the penalty of sin.
+Nothing save the grace of God can do that for us, but it can save us
+from barren surroundings, from much of our sickness, from the deadening
+influences of sorrow, from the power of many of our most dangerous
+temptations, and aid us in spiritual development. Work with a good
+will. Let no man laugh you out of its benefits. Say to the world,
+“Yes, I am a laboring man.” Let no blush come to your cheek, unless it
+be because you are not a better and more earnest workman. Labor with
+the knowledge that while you are at your task you are ranked with the
+mightiest and most illustrious characters of the world. Labor adds to
+dignity. Hard, honest work gives self-respect. Toil saves one from the
+life of a parasite, enabling him to pay his own way, at the same time
+leaving the world brighter and richer because of his toil. The richest
+jewel that ever adorned the brow of man is not in the King’s crown. It
+is the beaded sweat that stands upon the tanned forehead of an honest
+laborer. Wear it with the dignity with which a king wears his crown
+of gold. In the light of God’s approving smile it will pale and make
+insignificant the crown jewels of all the nations.
+
+
+
+
+ XXI
+
+ ABOVE THE COMMONPLACE OF SIN
+
+
+Individuality is one of God’s ways of expressing his greatness. His
+voice penetrates the centuries like the sound of silver bells, but
+there is never an echo. No duplicates are ever found among the works of
+God’s creative power. He gives his gifts unto the world with boundless
+generosity, but through the centuries no single gift has ever found
+its counterpart. Everything coming from the hand of God is original,
+unique, entirely dissimilar to anything else in the realm of nature.
+No two oak leaves are alike. They may be cut from the same pattern,
+so that, no matter where you find them drifting in the winds, you
+instantly recognize them, saying, “These are oak leaves”; yet, of all
+the millions of leaves that have unfolded upon branches of the oaks of
+countless ages, no two have been identical in size or form or in the
+delicate tracery of the tiny veins which are as delicate as hoarfrost,
+yet strong as leaden pipes.
+
+God never duplicates. The wild rose is a simple flower, possessing
+but five petals, held securely in the golden chalice of pollen-laden
+stamens. Nothing could possibly be more liable of duplication than this
+quaint flower of simple garb, yet of all the wild-rose blooms gathered
+by lovers’ hands and pressed to maidens’ lips, of all the wild-rose
+blooms that grace the old-fashioned gardens and trellis the fences
+of the country roads with their picturesque, sublime simplicity, no
+two are alike. God so respects the pretty things about which human
+sentiment revolves that no two are cast from the same mold. Consider
+the blossom that you once kissed, and pressing, stored away. It is
+hidden in a secret place, intended for no eyes save your own, and
+viewed only through the clear tears that memory revives. Guard it with
+the tenderest care, for God will never make another blossom just like
+it. He respects the tender affections of your heart that chose this
+blossom from a lover’s hand to be the sweetest, fairest blossom of your
+life.
+
+When a mother stoops and plucks a blossom from her baby’s grave, covers
+it with mingled tears and kisses, and puts it away between the leaves
+of the family Bible, thus binding in one cover the sweetest sentiments
+of this world and the best hopes and aspirations of a better world, she
+does a beautiful thing, and our heavenly Father so honors her love and
+reverence for her precious dead that, though a thousand centuries come
+and go, he will never make another blossom just like that.
+
+We love all mountains because of their rugged strength and majesty,
+yet no two mountains are alike, for to the mountains God has given
+personality. The Rockies stand like naked giants with knotted muscles
+ever ready to grapple with storms that smite their rugged sides,
+rejoicing, like strong men, at the ease with which they break the
+strength of their adversary, and hurl the whirlwind, like a helpless
+zephyr, into the mighty chasms at their feet. The Alps are like a
+procession of kings, bejeweled and berobed for coronation day. To
+see the Alps is to have a holiday and have one’s soul thrilled with
+boyhood’s wonderment and praise. The Catskills are a languid group of
+charming country folk with whom you can sit and chat, and feel the
+magic wonderment of childhood creeping through the soul, as you listen
+to quaint voices repeat their myths and legends. No two mountains are
+alike, for God likes versatility in heaped-up piles of rock as much as
+in fluttering leaves and blooming flowers.
+
+No two sunsets are alike. The hanging tapestries of the west may be
+woven in the same looms of mist, and dyed in the same vats of scarlet,
+purple, red, and orange; they may be laced with the same golden
+strands of unraveled sunbeams; and their drapery may reveal the
+self-same angel touch, yet no two sunsets are alike, each having its
+own individuality, and living forever as a master painting to beautify
+the walls of memory. Well do youth and maiden stand with clasped hands
+as they face the sunset. Let them feast upon its gorgeous beauty until
+their hearts are filled with light and love, for they shall never see
+another sunset just like that. Returning to the valley’s old familiar
+paths, where they shall walk together amid their mingled lights and
+shades, they shall rejoice through many years because of the brilliancy
+of that one sunset which God made for them, and for them alone.
+
+This love for originality is seen in the play of the wild waves’ crest
+whose molten silver falls into beads and necklaces and pendants of
+unequaled workmanship to fill the unseen jewel caskets of the deep.
+
+What is true of the natural world is also true of man. Consider the
+variations of the human face. Reflecting upon the limited number of
+features, one is amazed to think that such an infinite combination
+of facial forms and expressions can be created. There are only two
+eyes, two ears, one nose and one mouth, and yet out of that small
+combination, behold what God hath wrought! From the soft, pink rosebud
+of a baby’s smiling face, looking with wistful wonderment at a newly
+found world; through all the charming sweetness of maiden’s cheek
+and love-laden eyes; through all the grandeur of the hero’s chiseled
+features; through the glory of motherhood smiling affectionately
+upon her little brood; through manhood making battle for home and
+righteousness--through all these until, at last, you behold the
+unequaled beauty, majesty, grandeur, and dignity of old age, no two
+countenances are alike.
+
+The glory of God is revealed through individuality. No two persons
+are alike in form or feature, gift or grace. No two minds have
+exactly the same characteristics. No two souls look upon life from
+identical viewpoint, so that each one varies in his conception of
+events and expression of art and letters. A king wears the crown of
+his predecessor, but for each brow God has fashioned the fairer crown
+of individuality. Men, as God made them, are not pegs to be placed
+in holes, but kings, to sit upon thrones and rule kingdoms all their
+own. “Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee,” are the words of
+Jehovah when he wished to impress Jeremiah with the infinite care with
+which he had been prepared for a noble work.
+
+To endeavor to reshape this divinely appointed life and mold it after
+an earthly, man-made pattern is the height of folly, yet this is
+the demand of very much of our modern social life. Society employs
+a system of repression, the subduing and crushing of deep emotions,
+and substituting a shallow artificiality. It curbs all naturalness
+in development and demands a conformity to certain rigid molds in
+which every word, gesture, thought, and impulse must be cast. Instead
+of employing the art of expression, permitting the deep feelings to
+find normal outlet, and allowing the salutary unfolding of individual
+strength and grace, they check and curb and repress until the beauty
+and normalcy of life is gone. Our present system of society custom and
+usages cannot produce great character.
+
+Failing to recognize individuality as the universal plan, many
+educators mistake their function, endeavoring to mold men according
+to their conceptions rather than instructing men. Instead of leading
+the mind away from the narrow cloister of tradition, form, and
+ceremonialism, into the open air where it can function normally,
+and unfold its strength and beauty in perfect individualism, many
+intellectual leaders continue the practice of pitilessly dwarfing minds
+and stunting souls.
+
+Sin also leads to the commonplace. Realizing that man’s strength lies
+in developing those characteristics that mark personality, the arch
+enemy of the soul is ever endeavoring to destroy them. He tempts
+to sin, knowing well that there is no other agency so powerful in
+destroying individuality. Sin never lifts men upward toward lofty
+heights but always levels downward. It knows no royalty of character,
+so it tears down thrones, casts man’s crown aside, blurs the eye,
+palsies the nerve, blotches the countenance, deadens the brain, hardens
+the heart, and makes its victim a member of the common herd. Sin is not
+error; it is poison that stunts the growing aspirations, dwarfs the
+spiritual nature, lowers spiritual vitality, and completely destroys
+all the royal gifts of God that would distinguish one in character and
+achievement.
+
+Therefore righteousness must be preached as never before. Only through
+virtue can one lift himself above the commonplace and his individuality
+reach its maximum power. Wrongdoing destroys while right living makes
+possible the complete development of all the noble faculties of the
+soul, permitting one to experience the fullest possible realization
+of life. Men must not be repressed by the foolish processes of a
+misguided social, educational, or evil custom. Righteousness must be
+preached that youth may know the freedom of goodness and the joy of
+righteousness. As birds greet the dawn, by rising on rapturous wing
+and filling the blue with exultant song, let youth and maiden greet the
+coming day with gladness as they rise above the commonplace of sin. The
+Divine plan for their lives must not be marred by sin or foolishness.
+The uniqueness and originality of God’s plan are the secrets of
+success. The joys of righteousness are too valuable to exchange for the
+misery and heartache of a wasted life.
+
+
+
+
+ XXII
+
+ THE INVESTMENT OF A LIFE
+
+
+The problem of investment provides much of the romance as well as
+the tragedy of life. The fascination of expending one’s energies or
+possessions in legitimate undertakings holds all men spellbound,
+whether it be the peasant investing in seed for the coming harvest,
+the newsboy buying his bundle of papers for the evening trade, or
+the merchant purchasing wares against the changing styles and fitful
+customs. The investment proving good furnishes the joy and romance
+of existence. The investment proving bad causes the tragedy that
+shatters the brain, breaks the heart, smolders the homefires, and sends
+multitudes reeling and cursing into the darkness.
+
+All men are investors. Some of them invest their brain. Finding that
+God has honored them with an intellect capable of development, they
+have closely applied themselves to study and research, until the
+meanest flower enlarges itself into an Eden where each petal vein
+becomes a winding pathway leading to fountains of nectar that ever
+sport and play amid the golden pillars and tapestry of stamen and
+pollen. They study until oak trees become mighty ships, iron fashions
+itself into sky-scrapers, forked lightning becomes a servant of the
+humblest child, sunbeams become physicians, stars become pilots, and
+the sky a playground in which the mind leaps from world to world and
+wheeling constellation to wheeling constellation. Very rich indeed are
+the dividends coming to him who invests his brain against the world’s
+ignorance and mysteries.
+
+All men are investors. Some men invest their bodies. They bend their
+back to the burden until the blood vessels stand out upon their temples
+like silken nets. They give the strength of their arms to the hammer
+and drill until the flinty cliff becomes broad highways beneath their
+feet. They toil until mountains become winding corridors leading to
+chests of silver; valleys bloom with harvests, and frail cocoons become
+silken robes. They toil, earning dividends of daily bread, a happy
+home, and the consciousness that the world is better for their toil.
+
+All men are investors. Æsthetic in temperament, some invest a love for
+the beautiful. They find rhythm in swaying tree branch, harmony in the
+moving of winds, music in chirp of crickets, symphonies in the carol of
+birds, poetry in gleaming lights upon the water, visions of glory in
+the morning and evening sky. They adorn our cities with temples, fill
+our homes with immortal songs, transform white marble into immortal
+shapes, and fill our galleries with visions of sunsets that never fade,
+trees whose leaves are never driven by the November winds, children
+who never grow up, and family circles unbroken by death. Dividends
+surpassing belief belong to these true and faithful lovers of the
+beautiful.
+
+All men are investors. Some men invest their gift for business. They
+concentrate their energies on the art of trade until gigantic ships cut
+the ocean waves, steel rails join nations and continents, wire threads
+bind home to home, keeping each ear within instant reach of loved one’s
+voice, refrigerator cars that bring the fruit of the tropics to the
+Christmas table, and means of transportation that finds a world-wide
+sale for the handiwork of the humblest toiler. All honor to such men!
+Nations do not coin currency for business. Business is the mint whose
+products fill the coffers of the nations.
+
+All men are investors. Some invest their heart’s affections upon things
+divine. Their ears are closed to evil and they know not concerning
+things that blight and blast, scorch and consume the soul. Their eyes
+are closed to the suggestive, therefore evil finds no lighted pathway
+to their imagination. Their hands are held firmly and will not touch
+that which contaminates. Their lives are like unto that of the Lord
+Jesus, and therefore they are the children of freedom. Their words drop
+like the dew, each crystal drop reflecting the heavens toward which
+they journey. Their smiles are like unto sunbeams upon harvest fields,
+making the grain sweeter of kernel and more golden of husk. Their
+voices melt with tenderness as ripe grapes drip wine. Their opinions
+are permeated with charity as ripe fruit is filled with fragrance.
+Their coming is like that of a messenger from a friendly king.
+
+Each man is an investor, whether he invests his intellect for
+education, his body for physical betterment, his æsthetic nature for
+art, his business sagacity for prosperity, his heart for the fellowship
+of God, receiving benefits and meeting his honest obligations to the
+world. Honesty demands that each individual should be such an investor,
+investing himself and all that he possesses, for he who refuses to do
+so robs his fellow man. For such hell is a moral necessity. He who
+refuses to yield himself to the plan of God must not be disappointed
+when he finds himself outside of God’s plan for his happiness and
+welfare.
+
+There are no safety deposit vaults for God’s gifts to man. When times
+of financial panic come, frightened and panic-smitten men withdraw
+their currency from circulation, store it away in a vault, thus
+hastening the national disaster. Panics come when men refuse to invest.
+In an hour like the present, when moral forces are facing a panic, when
+organized forces for evil are using every possible unprincipled means
+and method to press righteousness to the wall, no man has any right
+whatever to withdraw and hide his talent. Every lover of truth, every
+believer in immortality, should give the best he has, every faculty and
+talent, the widest possible circulation. Invest, and invest heavily, is
+the order from on high. Invest in order to restore confidence to the
+people of God. Let them feel encouragement by seeing that the very best
+you have is at the disposal of all mankind. Refusing to do so makes one
+a miser deserving of nothing save the curse of man. Upon the wholeness
+of the investment depends one’s destiny on the Day of Judgment. To the
+one who, by investment, has increased his talent, God says: “Well done,
+good and faithful servant, enter into joy.” To the one who refuses to
+make investment of his life, he says: “Take away that which he hath.”
+The Judgment hinges on the problem of investment.
+
+That we make not fatal mistake let us remember that no talent is
+properly invested unless done so with a reverent purpose. Talents may
+be invested aimlessly and without results. To bring paying dividends
+the investment must be backed by a life having a noble purpose. To
+illustrate, if you were compelled to sum up your entire life in
+one sentence, what would you be able to say of yourself? What one
+predominant characteristic do you recognize as being the index of your
+life? You reply, “I am a student.” Is that all you can say? You have
+invested brains, are an educated man, but is that all?
+
+Unless you have applied your intellect to successfully solving some
+problem for those who, denied your blessings, are ignorant and
+superstitious, your knowledge is valueless and will be buried with
+you. You may be a toiler, but unless you have tugged away and lifted,
+with all your might, at the world’s burdens, your strength will go
+with you to the grave. If your investment of the æsthetic does not
+make the world more beautiful, it is valueless. Are you successful in
+business? Is that all that can be said? You may be worth many millions
+of dollars, but if your gold has never gleamed in true philanthropy it
+will crumble into dust with your body. You may be good, but unless your
+goodness expresses itself in sacrificial service, it is worthless.
+
+That which is enduring demands, not the investment of talents
+alone, but the investment of the whole life. To give your talents
+indifferently marks you, not as an investor, but as a spender, and
+anyone can spend money, especially inherited money. To make an
+investment demands a whole life centered upon one holy and noble
+purpose, for which one spares neither toil nor sacrifice, energy nor
+time, until the united efforts become permanent in the world and
+forever identify your name with that noble purpose. To invest wisely
+is to endow one’s name until it stands out the rich embodiment of
+some worthy purpose, as the name “Dante” stands for poetry, the name
+“Abraham Lincoln” stands for the emancipation of the slaves, the name
+“Garibaldi” stands for liberty, the names of Peabody and Shaftesbury
+stand for benevolence, and the names of Wesley and Moody stand for the
+redemption of a world.
+
+
+
+
+ XXIII
+
+ THOUGHT PLANTING
+
+
+There is nothing more common, and seemingly insignificant, than the
+planting of a garden. There are the simple upturning of the sod, the
+mellowing of the soil, and the burial of a hard-shelled seed. Let a
+chemist analyze the soil, and a scientist examine the seed, and they
+will be unable to find anything signifying relationship between the
+two. There is nothing, so far as the human eye can see, to suggest that
+the combination of seed and soil would be other than the combination of
+stone and stubble. But when once planted all the universe knows about
+the little brown seed. The earth and the seed were made for each other,
+and no sooner do they come in proper contact than the whole universe
+is set in motion about and for the development of that buried germ.
+There is not a cloud floating afar nor a star gleaming mildly in the
+distant blue that does not exist for that tiny seed until, through the
+ministration of sunbeam and moonlight, shower and baptismal dew, the
+seed arises, clothed in the glory of a resurrection, to lift itself in
+right royal grandeur above the clod.
+
+No one can explain how the inanimate can thus become living tissue, but
+the sun keeps warming its leaves with caresses, and the kindly winds
+bring tribute from distant lands; and the guarding stars keep sending
+their benign forces, and the cool hand of the darkness offers its
+chalice of dew, so that the seed becomes a tree, whose nectar attracts
+the bees and butterflies, and whose wide-extending branches become the
+home and playground of the birds.
+
+There is nothing seemingly more insignificant than the planting of
+a garden unless it be the beginning of a good and useful life. It
+is simply planting a thought in an ordinary human brain. The wise
+philosopher may examine the thought and pronounce it quite commonplace;
+the grammarian may test it and say that it could be constructed in a
+more exact and polished manner; the physiologist may examine the brain
+and pronounce the texture of its convolutions as being most ordinary.
+There is nothing anywhere to indicate that the combination of that
+particular thought and that particular brain could result in anything
+particularly extraordinary. The possessor of the brain may feel no
+different after the planting of the thought and have no presentiment
+of what it shall mean to him in the years that follow. But the whole
+universe knows about the thought planting. As the stars remember the
+buried seed, so all the divine forces of earth and heaven are set to
+work about the planted thought. Days and weeks may pass without the
+world observing any appreciable results, and it may even forget the
+planting. But God has not forgotten. He is remembering it, guarding it
+with divine care, and the results will appear sooner than we think.
+
+That is the reason, I believe, that Christ took the mustard seed for
+the foundation of a parable. The seed is not only one of the smallest,
+being so little that it can slip unnoticed from your grasp, and hide
+within the crevice of a clod, mocking your solicitous search, but it
+is of most rapid growth. Within a fortnight it will overshadow the
+garden, and before the season is ended will tower twelve to fifteen
+feet in height, its sturdy branches affording shelter, and protected
+nests, for many birds. Divine thoughts within the brain are capable of
+this marvelous development. The planting may be an unattractive thing
+to do; the mind itself may be as unresponsive as the soil at the first
+planting of the seed, but God has not forgotten his truth, and all the
+universe is working for its fullest development. Soon, very soon, will
+it manifest its marvelous nature by rapid growth and bloom.
+
+Here is a little lass, living among the forests of Domremy. Day by day
+she watches the soldiers of hostile powers tramping along the dusty
+highways to devastate the land she loves so dearly. Her heart aches
+as she sees her people languishing helplessly under the heavy yoke of
+oppression. Standing with tear-filled eyes one day she hears an old man
+say: “God will one day raise a deliverer for the French.” Amid the dust
+arising from the tramping of an invading army a thought was planted in
+the mind of a child.
+
+Here is a little girl at Ledbury, near the Malvern Hills, sitting in
+her father’s dooryard, looking at the mysterious letters of a Greek
+book, whose secrets refuse to yield themselves to her inquisitive
+brain. Disappointed, she buries her face in her book and weeps, only
+to be found by a kind friend who picks her up and whispers in her ear:
+“There, do not cry. A little girl can learn Greek if she tries.” The
+world goes along as usual, not knowing that a new thought has been
+planted, and that girls may learn Greek as readily as do the boys.
+
+Here is a little boy, standing by a harpsichord, watching his father’s
+fingers find the notes upon the ivory keyboard. His soul is filled with
+delight as he listens to the melodies that arise. Beholding the nervous
+twitch of the tiny fingers longing to earnestly and reverently touch
+the music-making keys, the father bends low, and says: “Be patient,
+son, and keep loving your music, for some day you will be a great
+musician.”
+
+Here is a little boy drawing with charcoal upon the white walls of his
+mother’s kitchen, while a precious old grandmother sits watching the
+young artist. Taking him in her arms, she said, “Do not paint to rub
+out, paint for eternity.” Commonplace words uttered in a commonplace
+home by a very commonplace old lady.
+
+Here is a bright-eyed little boy kneeling at his mother’s side to say
+his prayers. Having finished his petitions, the Christian mother says,
+encouragingly, as she strokes his head, “Only be good, my precious boy,
+and God will use you to help the thousands.”
+
+We have seen these five persons putting ordinary thoughts in what
+seem to be ordinary brains. These five children felt no enraptured
+thrill, the ones who sowed the thoughts did not remember the day.
+But all the universe of spiritual power knew about the planting, and
+consequently the seeds grew. Watch the little girl among the forests of
+Domremy, leaning against the trees, buried in thought, and listening
+to the voices that ever speak of redeeming France. Watch the little
+girl bending over her Greek book, day after day, finding the key
+that unlocks the beauty of Homer and Thucydides. Watch the little
+lad sitting past the midnight hour, his long curls falling in rich
+folds about his face as he bends over the harpsichord awakening the
+slumbering strings. Watch the little lad gathering clays of various
+colors and grinding them into paint, which shall, at the touch of his
+brush, awaken angels upon the canvas. Watch the little lad who learned
+to pray at his mother’s knee, gathering the students of Oxford about
+him to spend the evening hour in prayer. God has not forgotten the
+good thoughts sown in the days gone by, and all the spiritual forces
+of the heavens are working for their most complete development. Soon
+the little lass of Domremy, obedient to the call of the voices, mounts
+her charger and compels King Charles, the invader, to flee and give
+back the government of France to her people. Soon the little girl
+who studied so diligently to learn Greek will become Mrs. Elizabeth
+Browning, to make the centuries happy with the music of her poems. Soon
+the little lad at the harpsichord will become the mighty Mozart, whose
+music lingers like the sweet fragrance of dew-wet flowers. Soon will
+the little boy, drawing with charcoal, begin to paint for eternity, and
+the “Angelus” and “The Man with a Hoe” begin their deathless career,
+as a tribute to toil, and an eternal protest against oppression. Soon
+the boy of Epworth and the youth of Oxford will become John Wesley, the
+leader of the great revival which swept England at a critical period
+and directed her on the right track.
+
+No one can understand the mystery of the growing seed, or the greater
+mystery of the growing thought, but each individual can have such a
+love for childhood and its future that he will guard with jealous care
+each word that leaves his lip, determined that in the sowing nothing
+but good seed shall find lodgment in any heart. An evil thought planted
+in a child’s mind grows into a ruined life and blasted character. Let
+not even the idle word be an evil one for fear of the harvest. What an
+incentive to become good husbandmen planting righteous thoughts in the
+minds of childhood, looking forward to harvests that shall never end!
+
+
+
+
+ XXIV
+
+ THE ROSARY OF TEARS
+
+
+God meant man to be happy. The sweetest music of this world is clear,
+ringing laughter. Beside its resonance the majestic voice of the
+cataract, the rolling melody of dashing billows, the gurgling ripple of
+the sun-kissed streams, the thrilling throb of the wild bird’s song,
+the merry chirp of the cheerful cricket, the lyric of the wind-tossed
+leaves are as nothing. Better one sudden, spontaneous outburst of
+childish laughter than all the symphonies and oratorios of the long
+centuries. Nothing can equal it. It comes with the spontaneity of a
+geyser, rolls out upon the atmosphere like a volley of salutes, thrills
+like martial music, its quick vibrations making the sunbeams tinkle
+like silver bells. It is contagious, causing the facial muscles of our
+friends to relax and begin to run and leap into the radiant smiles,
+their vocal cords to burst into song, and the whole world becomes a
+better and happier place for all mankind.
+
+As the sunshine makes battle with shadows, so men and women should
+wage warfare with everything that depresses. Children have a right
+to laugh, and youth has a right to rejoice in the morning light of
+life that floods the pathway with the bright and brilliant colorings
+of hope. We must not be too exacting with others, neither must we
+endeavor to abnormally repress our own feelings. There is a restraint
+that is not culture and a self-control that is not temperance. Some
+people would be far more honest in their dealings, and have better
+rating in their own community, if they did not exercise such an
+exacting self-control over their deep feelings of honesty, justice, and
+brotherly love. There is a boundless strength in emotion, therefore
+laughter and happiness are absolutely essential. Let happy hours be
+golden beads, which, strung upon the silken cord of memory, will become
+a rosary with which to count our prayers.
+
+Laughter is essential, because of its relationship to tears. In the
+truest sense pure tears and pure laughter are one. It requires a
+raindrop to reveal the hidden beauties of the sunbeam. Beholding the
+rainbow spreading its many-colored folds over the dark shoulders of
+the storm cloud, we utter exclamations of gladsome surprise. How
+marvelously beautiful it is! But every sunbeam would be a rainbow if
+only it had its raindrop through which to pass. It requires vapor
+to reveal the hidden depths and treasures of the sunbeam. Tears are
+to laughter what raindrops are to sunshine. They reveal the deeper
+meaning of our joys. Without them we should never appreciate or
+understand the brighter moments. When we count each hour of happiness
+as a golden bead, we must consider each teardrop as a crystal or
+polished diamond, to gleam upon the rosary of the heart.
+
+Sincerely pity the man who has lost the art of shedding tears, for he
+has, through self-control, restricted his emotions, so as to exclude
+life’s best experiences. Without a tear-moistened eye one cannot
+clearly comprehend the brightness of the sky, the majesty of the
+sea, the commanding splendor of the mountains, or the wealth of gold
+that lies buried in every human heart. Without tears one can never
+experience the rapturous joy of truest love or holiest patriotism. The
+greatness of the soul is measured by the depth of its emotions, and
+the extent of influence is determined by the readiness with which one
+permits the deep emotions to shed their glory.
+
+Herein is hidden a secret of triumphant power. The greatest victories
+are won, not by gun and cannon, but by deep emotions expressed in
+tear-dimmed eyes. Great achievements are wrought by men who can feel
+keenly and deeply. Behold Garibaldi conquering a great Italian city.
+A thousand soldiers, armed with rifles, and supported with heavy
+artillery, stood ready to oppose him. Commanding generals, with drawn
+swords, stood ready to give command to fire the moment he made his
+appearance. This was the day that he had announced that he would take
+the city. Hours passed and neither he nor his army came in sight.
+Finally, in the afternoon, amid a cloud of dust, a carriage is seen
+rapidly nearing the city. Every eye is strained to see its passenger,
+when lo, above the dust, rises the stalwart form of the great Italian.
+Without gun, sword, or protecting soldier, the great general who has
+come to take the city, is standing erect in an open carriage, his arms
+folded in peace. Each defending soldier is ready to obey command, but
+no command is given. In the presence of such remarkable courage each
+officer is motionless and speechless. No moment of Italian history was
+more tense. Suddenly some sympathizer shouted, “Viva la Garibaldi!” and
+in an instant every weapon is dropped and Garibaldi takes the city and
+holds it as his own. The power to advance in the face of great odds,
+with no weapon save a burning heart and tear-filled eyes, has wrought
+more victories than we know.
+
+To cry is not weakness, for tears are evidences of strong character.
+We have always loved Mark Twain, enjoying his travels as much as he,
+and laughing away dreary hours with his bubbling humor. But humor never
+revealed the true man he really was. It was not until his daughter
+died, and he sat all alone at home on Christmas day, amid the unopened
+gifts, and broken hopes of life, and wrote the matchless story of her
+death, that the world caught glimpse of the real Mark Twain. Beholding
+her lying there so quietly, he said: “Would I call her back to life
+if I could do it? I would not. If a word would do, I would beg for
+strength to withhold the word. And I would have the strength; I am sure
+of it. In her loss I am almost bankrupt, and my life is a bitterness,
+but I am content; for she has been enriched with the most precious of
+all gifts--that gift which makes all other gifts mean and poor--death.”
+It required the teardrop to reveal the real character of Mark Twain.
+
+While for our friends we would have nothing but golden hours, for
+ourselves the rosary of tears is the most precious treasure we possess.
+None other creates such a spirit of devotion, none other so thoroughly
+prepares us for conquest; none other opens the heart to those diviner
+emotions which should thrill the inner life of all. The golden beads
+will become tiresome, but the crystal rosary of tears will always be
+attractive. Count over its beads. There are the large, fast-falling
+tears of childhood. Tell them one by one, and behold how they bring
+back the holy memories and yearnings for childhood purity and childhood
+faith. Hold fast those blessed beads that were once kissed away by a
+mother’s lips, but still sparkle in the light of her precious love.
+There too are the glittering tears of youthful ambitions, when the
+heart burned with passion, the brain whirled with plans for conquest,
+and the eyes were moist with tears of hope. How precious those tears
+that have long since ceased to flow! But they are not lost. We still
+have them on our rosary when we offer prayer, and the touching of them
+revives our old-time hopes. There also are the tears of love. The
+busy, all-consuming fires of worldly ambition cannot dry them away.
+They gleam in the eye every time memory presents the portrait of that
+precious face. How wonderful to love until the eyes blind with tears of
+ecstasy!
+
+There too are the priceless tears of sympathy. The sight of another’s
+wrong or sorrow unloosed the fountains of the deep, and your heart
+responded. In order to right the wrong you gave yourself to work of
+reform, and made your influence a powerful factor in the remaking of
+the world. There, gleaming more beautiful than all, are the tears of
+sorrow. They were shed at the side of the grave; they came into the eye
+at the sight of an empty chair. How unbearable the world until relief
+came in a flood of tears! Only through tears do we find the sweetest
+comfort.
+
+Thus, our devotions become more helpful when we hold this rosary of
+priceless treasure. These beads can be purchased of no merchant; they
+cannot be blessed by any priest. They were wrought in the fires of our
+suffering, and, because we trusted him, they were blessed of God. They
+cannot heal the soul--only God can do that; but they help heal the soul
+by quickening our memories and reviving our past experiences. Let no
+one rob you of the beneficent influences of deep feelings, whether of
+joy or sorrow, for we are never so much in the spirit of prayer as when
+we hold in our hands the rosary of tears.
+
+
+
+
+ XXV
+
+ THE HEARTHSTONE OF THE HEART
+
+
+Speaking to a young man who was about to assume the more weighty
+responsibilities of religious work and living, Paul bade him stir up
+the coals of genius, and build a fire of enthusiasm that would warm and
+set aglow with holy zeal his every endeavor. “I put thee in remembrance
+that thou stir up the gift of God, which is in thee.” As the housewife
+stirs the living coals out of the dead ashes of the old fireplace,
+and fans them until they glow with sparkling fervor, setting aflame
+the newly placed faggots, making the room radiant with good cheer as
+shadows dance along the walls and ice melts from the frost-screened
+windowpanes, so out of the dead ashes of past enthusiasm he was to stir
+up the living coals of his best gifts until they snapped, and sparkled,
+and burst aflame, filling the heart with brightness, and creating an
+atmosphere that would melt the ices of indifference from the windows of
+his soul, and give him a clear vision of a great wide world. Yea, as
+in the days of Paul, one would take a dying torch, and placing it to
+his lips, pour out his breath upon it until it burst in flame, that he
+might have a torch of burning fire to guide his footsteps through the
+darkness of the starless midnight or to flash a message to the people
+living upon the distant hilltop, or to kindle the fireplace wood until
+the cold corners of the house breathed a hearty welcome to the tired
+and frozen travelers, so the young man was to take the divine elements
+of the soul, breathe upon them the breath of prayer and devotion, until
+they blazed and burned and cast abroad their helpful influence.
+
+Within each human heart, however covered with the smothering ashes of
+sin, are God-made sparks of celestial fire that long to rise on wings
+of flame and make heroic battle with oppressive darkness. There are too
+many lives which, through carelessness, never burn bright, but, like
+smoldering flax, slowly eat themselves away, darkening and corrupting
+the very air they should illumine. When they began the Christian life
+they were radiant with hope, beaming with enthusiasm, and flashing
+with chivalric courage; but the spirit of worldliness choked and
+smothered them, until now, like the dead hearthstone of some shell-torn
+house upon the battle line, they offer to a worn-out world no hope of
+hospitality. To guard against this choking of the soul, this smoldering
+of genius, this reckless burning out of the priceless gifts of God,
+Paul urges all young men to stir up these coals and fan them into
+radiant and glowing character.
+
+It is not the will of God that any life be formal and indifferent.
+How much all forms of life, plant, and animal owe to the hidden fires
+within the bosom of the planet, no scientist has been bold enough to
+state; but this we know about mankind, without the inner fires of
+burning thought and all-consuming zeal there is no productivity. And
+no life need be cold-hearted. For the hearthstone of every heart there
+are three divine qualities that should burn with all the intensity and
+fervor as in the hearts of ancient seer and prophet.
+
+There is the quality of Faith that makes God real. To many people God
+seems so far away that it is an impossibility for him to be a very
+important factor in their daily lives. He is a sort of good-natured
+Generality, to whom they may address petitions of greater or less
+degree of piety, without fear of being embarrassed by an answer. Should
+it be announced with certainty that at a given time the accumulated
+prayers of a twelvemonth would be answered, fifty per cent of the
+people would be afraid to face the hour. Some have prayed for purity
+of heart, but if there is anything in the world that they do not
+want, it is purity of heart. Nothing would be more embarrassing to
+carry into their haunts of enjoyment and more difficult to explain to
+their companions. Others have prayed for God to accept them as living
+sacrifices, yet sainthood, to them, is as shocking as yellow fever. I
+once knew a man who prayed “Let justice rule supreme.” It is a pleasing
+phrase and a consummation to be devoutly wished for, but had it been
+answered in this particular case, the man who uttered the prayer would
+have gone to the penitentiary. Few people deny the existence of a God,
+but many live as though there were no God. But these are not the real
+lives. The men who really live and give a homelike feeling to the world
+are those who have stirred up the embers of their faith until they
+burn with an all-consuming warmth that makes God a guest of honor. To
+such souls God is marvelously real, and they rejoice to have him dwell
+within. When faith once lays hold on the Almighty no other experience
+is half so real. One needs read about it in no book, consult no priest
+or preacher, nor plead with friend to lend the information, for he
+knows it for himself. Sitting beside the hearthstone of a living,
+flaming faith, our hands feeling the pressure of that mighty Hand that
+never harms but always serves, our souls rejoice with unmeasured joy to
+realize that we are in the presence of God who knows and understands,
+and who not only walks the weary ways with us, but gladly dwells within.
+
+There is the quality of hope that makes heaven real. So long as hope
+burns within the heart there is no fear of winter winds, but when hope
+dies the soul dies. How gladly may old age look over the world in which
+it spent the four-seasoned life of toil! Here is the spring of life
+where the daisies grew and the cowslips scattered gold about the feet.
+Yonder the harvest fields of manhood’s power in which a bared arm of
+strength gathered the treasures of the soil while right merry thoughts
+centered upon a nearby cottage toward which he knelt each time he tied
+a band of gold about the garnered sheaf. Yonder the carefully planted
+violets grow upon a tiny mound, bright children of the sun making
+battle with the cold shadows of a marble slab. Now the autumn time of
+life fades into wintry quiet. The song of the brook is hushed beneath
+ever-thickening ice, the trees are robbed of color, the fields are
+trackless wastes of snow. The four seasons of life are growing to a
+close, the last afternoon is coming to its twilight, and yet one is not
+sad. The fires of hope still burn upon the hearthstone of the heart,
+and fill the soul with the light of its immortal home. Heaven is not a
+far-away land, vague with mystery, and dim with distance, but a place
+that is real and very close. We breathe its scented air, and bathe
+in its golden light while hope is burning divinely bright within our
+hearts.
+
+The hope of heaven does more than offer us compensation for the
+wrongs of life; it gives man an intelligent interpretation of the
+things of time. Until one believes his citizenship is in heaven he
+cannot intelligently perform his daily task. The painting that lacks
+perspective is a daub; the hopeless life is dismal failure. Therefore,
+as one prizes the best, he should stir up the gift of hope until heaven
+is as real as home.
+
+There is the quality of love that makes the world seem real. At the
+fireside of a loving heart, one readily learns the true secrets of the
+world in which he dwells. There is nothing so potent as love to give
+vision to the soul, clearness to the eye, effective service to the
+hand. Then stir up the gifts of love. Build in your heart the fires of
+a quenchless affection that refuses to believe the worst, that will
+never give consent that anyone has gone too far in sin for reclamation,
+but ever believes that one more touch of kindness will bring the person
+back to God; a love that gladly sacrifices everything of value in his
+effort to redeem that which has no value; a love that knows no selfish
+interest and daily seeks the welfare of another. Then will the world
+cease to be hazy and fantastic, but will be as real as the ones of your
+own household, who gather each evening hour about your fireside.
+
+Let not your love for one single individual die; it robs you of too
+great a joy. Warm up your hearts by allowing the fires of faith in
+God, hope of heaven, and love for all men to blaze and burn in high,
+exultant flames that know not how to die. Without it your life will be
+as barren as the deserted house through which the winter winds pass
+undisturbed. Make your life homelike by keeping bright the hearthstone
+of the heart.
+
+
+
+
+ XXVI
+
+ THE UNOARED SEA
+
+
+Each one spends his childhood playing upon the golden sands of an
+unoared sea, over which in the after years he must find his way to
+shipwreck or safe harbor.
+
+How little does childhood in its helplessness know of life! Pleased
+with simple things, it greets the world with gladness, and shouts for
+very joy when finding a tinted shell or bit of seaweed. With spades of
+tin it undertakes to dig a hole “clear through the earth,” and smiles
+in contemplation of a vision of the Chinese sky. With chains of sand it
+undertakes to bind the rushing waters of the tide which granite cliff
+and flinty rock cannot subdue. The child undertakes great things while
+he himself is not strong enough to withstand the smallest wave, but,
+leaving his unfinished task, runs homeward at the coming of the tide.
+The waves roar with laughter and the spray sparkles with merriment as
+they destroy the feeble efforts of his puny hands. Childhood knows
+little of the unoared sea of life whose marvelous power of wave and
+tide threatens to destroy all the childish and manly efforts of his
+life.
+
+The desires of the sea may be fulfilled. With youthful enthusiasm and
+unguarded courage he may make fatal venture and be lost. There are
+many such of wholesome soul and worthy purpose whose most cherished
+hopes and plans came to shipwreck and disaster. The seas of life are
+strewn with wreckage. Yet one must not be pessimistic and forget that
+the raging sea is not omnipotent. With all its wild dashing waves and
+boisterous winds it is not as strong as that little lad may become. The
+weakest child may yet be able to dig a pit large and deep enough to
+bury all the swollen waves; and build a cable of sand strong enough to
+bind securely the rising and the falling tides. Some day, over the calm
+and quiet waters of a perfectly conquered sea, this tiny lad may pass
+into the harbor of safety and success.
+
+Man was not made for the sea, but the sea was made for man. Man was
+created with the gift of complete dominion over all the world in which
+he finds himself. Standing like a discoverer upon the shores of his
+own unoared sea of life, it is his to conquer, for each individual
+faces a sea newly created, whose waves have never been cut by the prow
+of any boat. No two people sail the same sea. Each person faces a
+life as original as it is unknown, but one that is singularly suited
+to himself. Age may be enriched with much dearly bought and valuable
+experiences, and be most helpful in counseling youth, but age can never
+fully understand the child, or youth, who stands upon the sun-kissed
+sands of the unoared sea of his own individual life. The beauty and
+pathos of life is that each one must solve the problem for himself.
+
+This does not mean that the training and counseling of youth
+should be neglected. The ennobling influences of a godly home with
+Christian parents; the steady, guiding hand of school and college;
+the inspiration of good books and imperial thinking, as well as
+the soul-strengthening forces of the church, are all of most vital
+importance. They should never be omitted from any life. These are
+things to which each child has an unquestioned right. All the forces
+for good, of earth and sea and sky, must be centered upon the ambitious
+but ofttimes thoughtless youth, that he may recognize and faithfully
+employ the agencies created for his service and success.
+
+The best that education can do is to help the individual to help
+himself. Education is not a compass by which to steer his craft; it is
+not the rudder that determines the course; neither is it the propelling
+power that drives it through the waves against an adverse wind. God
+has made especial provision for these equipments. The chart is the
+inspired Word; the compass, a divinely guided conscience; the rudder, a
+will surrendered fully to the will of God; while the power that propels
+lies in the skillful using of two plain oars that God has placed within
+his easy reach. Education is the intellectual training that enables him
+to use these agencies in the most efficient manner.
+
+Many centuries of experience and experiment have produced no
+labor-saving machinery for reaching the harbor of success. If one would
+make successful voyage, he must be willing to grasp the oars with his
+own hands, bend his back to heavy strain, employing all his mental,
+physical, and spiritual power to the task of making good. It is not a
+joy ride or a pleasure trip. There is a joy unspeakable in the task,
+but it comes not from without but from the consciousness within that
+one is winning in a moral strife. This consciousness will be found
+to be the chiefest of life’s joys. None shall excel it this side the
+welcome we shall receive when safely anchored in the presence of our
+God, and even then this consciousness will be the inspiration of the
+heavenly song. Life must be considered not so much a pleasure as a
+struggle, but a worthy struggle, that sends the blood tingling through
+the veins, and builds the tissues of a noble character.
+
+After the training in life’s fundamentals the choosing of the oars is
+the most important thing. The craft in which one sails is character,
+built to weather any storm on any wind-swept sea. The haven is God’s
+homeland of the soul. The oars are varied, and the success or failure
+of the voyage, the safety or shipwreck of character, a victorious
+landing or sinking beneath the waves of obscurity, depend entirely upon
+the choosing of these oars by means of which his life energies are to
+be directed.
+
+To this end all the educational influences of home and school and
+college must be directed. Youth must be taught the value of an
+intelligent choice of the instruments through which his powers shall
+flow. He must not be led by fancy or prejudice or by the words of
+dishonest men who have oars to sell. He must not choose by the color
+of the paint or beauty of their decorations. He must not listen to the
+honeyed words of an evil one whose sole purpose is his destruction.
+Leaving the sands of childhood and starting voyage upon the unoared sea
+of life is a moment in which all earth and heaven are concerned, and
+therefore the choice of oar must not be left to chance or fortune. He
+must know that all the proffered oars are not alike, and that false
+teachers profit from the wreckage of the boats they set adrift. He must
+know that a broken oar means a drifting boat, and that no drifting boat
+can ride a storm-tossed sea. All the difference between heaven and hell
+is in that moment of decision when he picks up his chosen oars and
+begins to use them as his own.
+
+There are two oars that never fail when once grasped by a hand that
+is firm and true. The first oar is called Virtue. With this oar of
+moral excellency, of pure heart and clean hands, with this oar of real
+integrity of character and purity of soul, man’s energies are never
+wasted as he makes battle against opposing powers. The real sinfulness
+of impurity is its resultant waste of strength. Behold the wan faces,
+sunken eyes, wasted energies, emaciated forms, staggering steps of
+weakness, and the uncertainty and indecision of character, and one sees
+the consequences of abusing the laws of purity. But virtue means more
+than purity of body, it means absolute cleanliness of heart and mind
+and purpose.
+
+The second oar is Righteousness. Unrighteousness is the abuse and waste
+of power. The New Testament word for sin is “missing the mark,” energy
+that is wasted by not being carefully and accurately directed. To be
+upright in life, free from wrong and injustice, to yield to everyone
+his just dues, is to have a means for directing strength and vital
+energy that never fails to bring the desired result.
+
+Two oars--“Virtue,” rightness with God; “Righteousness,” rightness with
+man--two oars that have never been known to break no matter how much a
+great soul bends them in his battle with the waves. Two oars that have
+never yet failed to bring the ship to harbor.
+
+This, then, is the opportunity of the church, not to manufacture oars,
+but to aid youth and maiden to choose the ones that God hath made. They
+are not new inventions, but as old as God and rugged as the Hand that
+made them. Firmly grasped and resolutely employed, the harbor is made
+in safety, although the voyage be upon a hitherto unoared sea.
+
+
+
+
+ Transcriber’s Notes
+
+
+_Underscores_ added around text that was italicized in the original.
+
+Page 157, “robs his fellowman” changed to “robs his _fellow man_.”
+
+Page 173, “cannot dry them alway” changed to “cannot dry them _away_.”
+
+Page 180, “does more tnan offer” changed to “does more _than_ offer.”
+
+Other oddities have been retained from the original printing, as it
+isn’t obvious what the author intended.
+
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+ Unfinished Rainbows and Other Essays,
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+<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Unfinished Rainbows, by George Wood Anderson</p>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
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+
+<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Unfinished Rainbows</p>
+<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>And Other Essays</p>
+<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: George Wood Anderson</p>
+<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 13, 2022 [eBook #67624]</p>
+<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
+ <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: MFR and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNFINISHED RAINBOWS ***</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg"
+style="width:50%;height:auto;max-width:100%;"
+alt="Book cover, with the text “Unfinished Rainbows, George Wood Anderson” in red on a textured purple background."/>
+</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h1>Unfinished Rainbows<br/>
+<span class="subtitle">And Other Essays</span></h1>
+
+<p class="center" style="font-size:120%;font-variant:small-caps;">by<br/>
+GEORGE WOOD ANDERSON</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<img class="logo" src="images/abingdon.png" alt="Abingdon Press logo"/>
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">THE ABINGDON PRESS<br/>
+<span style="font-size:80%"><span style="margin-right:5em;">NEW YORK</span>
+<span style="margin-left:5em;">CINCINNATI</span></span>
+</p>
+
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p class="center" style="margin: 2em 0;">Copyright, 1922, by<br/>
+GEORGE WOOD ANDERSON</p>
+
+<p class="center"><small>Printed in the United States of America</small>
+</p>
+
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">Contents</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<table class="toc" summary="Contents">
+<tr><th></th><th></th><th class="pag">PAGE</th></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">I.</td><td class="cht">Unfinished Rainbows</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">II.</td><td class="cht">Gathering Sunsets</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">III.</td><td class="cht">Beyond the Curtained Clouds</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">IV.</td><td class="cht">Tilling the Sky</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">V.</td><td class="cht">Unquarried Statues</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">VI.</td><td class="cht">The Ages to Come</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">VII.</td><td class="cht">The Unlocked Door of Truth</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">VIII.</td><td class="cht">Weaving Sunbeams</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">IX.</td><td class="cht">The Pathway of a Noble Purpose</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">X.</td><td class="cht">Swords for Moral Battles</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XI.</td><td class="cht">Spiced Wine</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XII.</td><td class="cht">The Fever of Health</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XIII.</td><td class="cht">The Wisdom of the Unlearned</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XIV.</td><td class="cht">The Strength of Weakness</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XV.</td><td class="cht">Crumbling Palaces</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XVI.</td><td class="cht">The Echo of Life’s Unsung Songs</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XVII.</td><td class="cht">Modern Judases</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XVIII.</td><td class="cht">The Adjustable Universe</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XIX.</td><td class="cht">Seeing Love</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XX.</td><td class="cht">The Dignity of Labor</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XXI.</td><td class="cht">Above the Commonplace of Sin</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XXII.</td><td class="cht">The Investment of a Life</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XXIII.</td><td class="cht">Thought Planting</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XXIV.</td><td class="cht">The Rosary of Tears</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XXV.</td><td class="cht">The Hearthstone of the Heart</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chn">XXVI.</td><td class="cht">The Unoared Sea</td><td class="pag"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_5"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 5" id="Page_5"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="I">I<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+Unfinished Rainbows</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="first-word">The</span> rainbow was only a fragment of an arch
+because the needed sunshine was withheld. Had
+the sunlight been permitted to permeate all the
+atmosphere with its golden glow, the arch would
+have spanned the entire heavens.</p>
+
+<p>This is the reason why, in hours of sorrow, we
+do not grasp the fullness of God’s promise; we
+permit the denser clouds of doubt and faithlessness
+to keep the light of God from shining
+through our griefs; or, with a little faith, we get
+a gleam of light that gives us but a tiny fragment
+of the bow.</p>
+
+<p>While all the operations of this natural world
+are tokens of God’s unfailing thoughtfulness in
+keeping his covenant with man, a great event
+has made the rainbow peculiarly the embodiment
+of that thought. Looking from the narrow
+window of the wave-tossed ark, upon the silent
+grandeur of a world slowly arising from the
+waters of an universal flood, Noah beheld the
+rainbow and rejoiced in the blest assurance,
+that, while the things of man are subject to the
+ravages of time and destruction of contending<a href="#Page_6"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 6" id="Page_6"></span></a>
+elements, the things of God are always stable
+and secure. The most permanent products of
+man’s hand and mind are soon swept away, but
+the things of God endure, and continue faithful,
+in working out their appointed courses. Through
+storm or calm, events march with steady, unceasing
+tread, knowing that God’s roads are never
+worn, and God’s bridges never tremble and fall.
+Above the placid, mysterious world, calmly
+emerging from the muddy, wreck-strewn waters,
+was the peaceful, radiant bow, smiling in confidence
+upon him and his companions. The
+world had changed, but the rainbow was just as
+it had always been, stately, serene, and unaffrighted.
+The crumbling, flood-torn earth had
+not weakened its foundations, the drenching
+rains had not faded its colors, the hurrying,
+wind-swept clouds could not disturb it. Though
+it were made out of hurrying light and drifting
+mist it would not be swayed or moved even a
+little. Under its archway walked the guarding
+angels of God. Over the waters came the clear
+voice once heard in Eden, uttering the promise,
+“And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud
+over the earth, that the bow shall be seen in the
+cloud: and I will remember my covenant.”</p>
+
+<p>That is a sweeping promise that is literally
+fulfilled in nature. All clouds carry rainbows.
+Most of them are never seen by us because we<a href="#Page_7"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 7" id="Page_7"></span></a>
+lack the necessary keenness of vision, or the
+proper point of view to behold their woven
+colors; many are only partially seen because
+something intervenes and prevents a perfect
+intersection of heavenly sunlight with our earth-born
+mists; many are within the vision of all
+observing men; but, whether we see it or not,
+for every cloud there is a scarf of red and orange
+and yellow and green and blue and scarlet and
+purple. So, in spiritual matters, we find that for
+every sorrow there are beautiful assurances of
+God’s presence and unwavering covenant-keeping
+power. If we do not see them it is not God’s
+fault, for the light of his faithfulness transfixes
+every cloud that arises above his earth-born
+children.</p>
+
+<p>There are the clouds of bereavement. The
+Death Angel defied your love-locked doors and
+bolted windows. Heeding neither your cry nor
+your pleadings, he entered your home and
+pushed aside the doctor and attending nurses
+and friends, and touching the heart of your loved
+one, stilled it to sleep. Your grief was such that
+you did not see how you could live. The home
+seemed empty and strangely silent. The entire
+pathway seemed shrouded in the somber
+shadows of your grief. Life was a desolation.
+But you did not give up in despair. There was
+a bow in the cloud. An arch of seven brilliant<a href="#Page_8"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 8" id="Page_8"></span></a>
+hues reached from one horizon to another
+horizon, and you knew that the One in whom
+you had placed your trust had proven true. He
+had not forgotten you. Looking at the rainbow,
+the token of his covenant, you read in its
+mingled colors the words of the Lord Jesus,
+“I am the resurrection, and the life: he that
+believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall
+he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in
+me shall never die.” In your sorrow you found
+that the bow of God’s promises never trembles.</p>
+
+<p>You were facing financial disaster. All your
+investments had proven bad. You had been
+misled by false counsel. The savings of years
+had been swept away by one fell swoop of disaster,
+and with them had gone all the fond plans
+for the future of your family and loved ones.
+Your head reeled as you felt the earth giving
+way beneath you; you were about to close your
+eyes in despair, when suddenly, in the darkest
+part of the overshadowing cloud, you saw the
+rainbow. God had not forgotten you. Amid the
+whirl and destruction of things his promises
+never trembled. Its gleaming colors told you
+that you were not alone, and spelled such a
+message of hope and inspiration to your soul,
+that you smiled in the face of adversity. Here
+was the promise, “There is no want to them that
+fear Him.” You had never seen the beauty of<a href="#Page_9"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 9" id="Page_9"></span></a>
+those words before. You felt the thrill of a new
+life and the confidence that you once placed in
+riches, you now centered upon God.</p>
+
+<p>There were the dark clouds of misplaced
+friendship. You were confident that the one in
+whom you were placing your trust was worthy,
+but through that friendship you were betrayed,
+and misrepresented, and made the object of
+scorn and criticism. No cloud is darker than
+that, no sorrow is harder to bear, and yet you
+did not lose confidence in man. Above the
+feathered edges of the cloud was the rainbow of
+God’s promise, and you knew that if even father
+and mother forsook you, the Lord would take
+you up. The rainbow, as the symbol of God’s
+promise, said: “Lo, I am with you always, even
+unto the end of the world.”</p>
+
+<p>But some one says, “I have never been able
+to grasp the <em>fullness</em> of these promises. Amid
+life’s clouds I cannot see the presence of the
+Almighty.” That is not God’s fault, but because
+one hinders the coming of the light. If you do
+not permit the Spirit of God to shine upon your
+sorrow with its golden light, the ministration of
+the rainbow to your sorrow-smitten soul will
+never be complete. The comforts of God are
+known only by those who are willing to receive
+his holy ministrations. The rainbow is never
+finished for the one who refuses to receive Christ<a href="#Page_10"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 10" id="Page_10"></span></a>
+fully and completely into his life. He is the
+Light of the world, and his presence always
+brings the promises of the Father to their fullest
+possible earthly revelation and application. His
+revelations are always complete and as comforting
+as they are beautiful. His clear light of
+goodness has always been making battle against
+the darkness of sin’s mists and fogs. He is never
+satisfied until his love has intercepted every
+overshadowing cloud so that when you behold
+the streaming banners of the bow, that always
+follows and never precedes a storm, you may
+know that you, through him, have already
+gotten the victory. Light triumphs. The overshadowing
+cloud is pierced. Instead of somberness
+there is beauty.</p>
+
+<p>The earthly rainbows will never be complete.
+Here we behold at best only a segment of a
+perfect circle. We have but a one-world view
+and therefore can behold but half the rainbow.
+In heaven we shall see the completed circle, as
+John beheld it in his vision and exclaimed, with
+rapturous delight, “There was a rainbow round
+about the throne.” So glorious is the light of the
+great, white throne, and the face, and the
+raiment of Him that sat upon it, that to angelic
+vision it is nestled in the center of a perfectly
+rounded bow of brilliant hue.</p>
+
+<p>The rainbow can never be destroyed, for the<a href="#Page_11"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 11" id="Page_11"></span></a>
+light of Christ can never fade. Ever about the
+throne of God, in perfect circle, shall gleam the
+steady, colored token of God’s faithfulness
+through all time and all eternity. The multitude
+of white-robed ones that worship before the
+throne are those who have come out “of great
+tribulation,” they are those who have “overcome
+through the blood of the Lamb,” therefore it is
+fitting that the one choicest treasure saved from
+the natural world in which they fought their
+battles, and won their victories, should be the
+rainbow, the richly colored symbol of God’s
+faithfulness and mercy. What emotions thrill
+our souls in this world when we look upon the
+rainbow! What memories shall sweep through
+our souls when we behold the rainbow that is
+ever round about the great white throne of
+God!</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_12"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 12" id="Page_12"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="II">II<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+Gathering Sunsets</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">The</span> sunset is the sheaf of the day’s activities,
+wherein are bound all the roses and poppies and
+fruits and grains of the passing hours, for the
+experiences of life are constantly coming to full
+harvest. Weary with toil and worn with watching,
+we do not see the riches of to-day; or,
+stirred by some new ambition, our eyes become
+so fixed upon the future, that to-day’s golden
+grain is trampled under foot and lost. Instead
+of facing the morrow’s morn, rich with garnered
+treasures, we greet it with empty hands. We are
+not householders seeking strong-walled dwellings
+and broad, extending acres, but are careless,
+nomadic folk, wandering aimlessly from day to
+day, as gypsies wander from town to town.
+Having all things within our grasp, we possess
+nothing. When touched by the hand of Death,
+and taken out of life, the world is no more
+disturbed than by the bursting of a bubble on
+the ocean wave.</p>
+
+<p>Sunsets are sheaves, and the brilliancy of their
+coloring is God’s way of calling our attention
+to their value. The waving of so many golden<a href="#Page_13"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 13" id="Page_13"></span></a>
+and scarlet banners, by a myriad of unseen
+hands, should awaken the most careless soul to
+the consciousness that something mighty is
+transpiring. Such banners and pageantry passing
+through our streets would awaken the entire
+city to wonderment and concern. For what king
+are the banners waving? For what worthy cause
+are all these ensigns thrown upon the wind?
+What victory is celebrated here? Yet the sunsets
+pass unheeded, and the golden sheaf of
+another day is trampled under careless feet, and
+left to mildew and decay.</p>
+
+<p>The art of gathering sunsets, the grasping of
+each day’s experiences with firm and constant
+hold, is one to covet. Days are not something to
+“pass through.” Each day is like unto an acre
+of land, through which one may hurry, as in a
+train, without thought of right or ownership; or
+unto an acre of land which he holds in perpetual
+ownership, adding that much to his estate, and
+increasing his income through all the days that
+follow. Rather, it is a sheaf of grain, supplying
+food and affording strength for an ever-increasing
+work which he may throw away, or keep for
+future use. Sunset time is harvest time, and the
+evening hour is the one in which to fill full the
+granaries and treasure chests for days unborn.
+Sunsets should be bound with the golden cords
+of memory and kept forever.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_14"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 14" id="Page_14"></span></a></p>
+
+<p>The pathway of life grows brightest for those
+who have wasted fewest of their yesterdays.
+Hours well spent and safely garnered never lose
+the brightness of their sunshine. It always
+glows in the sparkle of the eye, in the brightness
+of a winning smile, in the warm atmosphere of
+helpfulness with which they are surrounded.
+Hours spent in sin and dissipation have no luster
+to cast upon the afterdays, but goodness is
+always luminous. Hours of right-living may be
+likened to blazing suns that never cease to glow.
+The ability to retain their brightness means an
+ever-increasing splendor of life. It is this that
+the inspired writer must have had in mind when
+he wrote that the pathway of the just is as a
+shining light, that shineth more and more unto
+the perfect day.</p>
+
+<p>The secret of perfection along any line of
+endeavor is the gathering in and retaining the
+good, at the same time sorting out and permanently
+eliminating that which is bad. It is a
+work of patience and progression. It requires
+the fruitage of many days, the garnered glories
+of many sunsets, to endow one with the riches of
+genius; and not one single day should be lost.
+The lapidist, whose magic touch changes pebbles
+into glittering jewels to adorn the neck of
+beauty; the sculptor, whose mallet-stroke is so
+accurate that rough, ill-shapen stones become<a href="#Page_15"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 15" id="Page_15"></span></a>
+forms of grace to inspire the generations; the
+artist, whose brush quickens the common dust
+and clay into marvelous paintings of unfading
+color and undying sentiment; the botanist,
+whose carefulness transforms barren waysides
+into gardens, and the desert places into banqueting
+halls; the metallurgist, whose powerful hand
+takes the knotted lumps of ore and fashions
+them into the bronze doors of a great cathedral—all
+these represent that priceless frugality that
+will not permit a sunset to escape. Their first
+crude efforts were sheaves of rich experiences,
+which they garnered and stored away in the
+treasure chests of memory. They had the bright
+light of their first sunsets to add to the morning
+light of their second endeavors. They continued
+to store the brightness of the passing experiences.
+Day by day the light grew brighter,
+until at last there came the perfect day, when
+the whole world stood amazed at the perfection
+of their handiwork. The loss of one sunset
+would have faded the light and dimmed the
+glory of their final achievement. All perfect art
+is but gathered sunsets.</p>
+
+<p>This law holds in the matter of spiritual perfection.
+God does much for us at conversion,
+when, through faith in him, we are changed by
+his grace into new men and new women. It is
+like a lost planet finding its central sun, and resuming<a href="#Page_16"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 16" id="Page_16"></span></a>
+its accustomed place, and finding light,
+and warmth, and life, and joy again. Wonderful
+indeed is the power of God as manifested in the
+conversion of any individual, but conversion is
+not perfection. Perfection is something that the
+inspired writer urges us “to go unto.” “And
+beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith
+virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge
+temperance; and to temperance patience;
+and to patience godliness; and to godliness
+brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness
+charity.”</p>
+
+<p>Do not permit the colors of triumph to fade
+from your first day’s sky. Hold on to that sunset.
+Each day will furnish its added beam of
+light. Faith, hope, and love, and all the Christian
+graces will become more beautiful for you,
+to you, and in you. The pathway will become
+brighter and brighter. Life will have fewer
+shadows because the light falls upon you from
+so many angles and becomes more perfectly diffused.
+To-morrow can have no hindering uncertainties,
+for the light of the past experiences
+illumines the future. There is light for every
+darkened corner, and one may rejoice that all
+things are working together for good, because we
+do love God. Gathered sunsets make life’s trail
+ablaze with light.</p>
+
+<p>Let no to-day become yesterday, except in the<a href="#Page_17"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 17" id="Page_17"></span></a>
+calendar, as we reckon time. Each day must
+become part of us as we live in an ever-present
+now. The same alphabet we learned in childhood
+is ours to-day. Because we did not forget
+it with the setting of the sun, it served us to-day
+as we spell out, in polysyllables, a newly discovered
+truth. The alphabet did not fade with
+the death of the day we learned it, so that it is
+now part of our lives. As we cannot think apart
+from the words we learned long ago; and as we
+cannot calculate, save as we use the first-learned
+characters from one to ten; so, in the developing
+of the soul, we must not lose one single hour of
+prayer or inspiration of a noble purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Both building and growing are alike in this—they
+are processes of “adding to.” Brick added
+to brick and timber added to timber means a
+stately building. Cell added to cell means
+growth of body and increase in stature. But
+handling brick is not enough, they must be
+placed with a purpose and kept firmly fixed in
+the place desired. The brick of yesterday must
+be where it can have added to it the brick of
+to-day. Physical growth depends upon the keeping
+the cells of yesterday for a foundation upon
+which to build the cells of to-day. Christian
+living is similar. We build a character and grow
+a soul but the process is the same, with both
+character and soul. We gain by adding to.<a href="#Page_18"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 18" id="Page_18"></span></a>
+Therefore we must not permit any of our sunsets
+to fade away. All that we have gained through
+prayer and Christian service must be held to
+brighten each new morn. The spiritual victory
+over temptation, the answer to our intercessory
+prayers, the moment of spiritual illumination as
+we read the Bible, all these are priceless experiences
+upon which to add the newer conquests
+of to-day. We must not permit the disease of
+sin to sap our vitality and destroy the growth
+of yesterday. We must guard our spiritual
+health that we may grow. This is what Christ
+meant when he said: “Men ought always to
+pray.” The culture of the soul is an eternal
+process. Days must not pass; they must remain
+as part of our own selves.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_19"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 19" id="Page_19"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="III">III<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+Beyond the Curtained Clouds</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">One</span> of the rarest treasures of the May time
+is the richness and purity of the sky. The winter
+wraps the heavens in robes of somber hue as
+though in mourning for the summer dead; but
+at the coming of the first white cloud, and sound
+of first lark’s song, the sky seems to melt in
+tenderness, and assume the softest, richest hue
+of blue. As far as the eye can reach there is
+nothing but blue—soft, rich, warm, tender,
+melting, soul-entrancing blue. Blue, as clear as
+an unshadowed midland lake. Blue as a translucent
+sapphire without a flaw to disturb its
+gleaming surface. A great arch of caressing
+tenderness through which the white-flecked
+clouds ride in state, as they sail majestically
+from one port of mystery to another port of
+mystery. Among the richest treasures of the
+spring must be mentioned the deepening of the
+blue and the hanging of the snow-white curtains
+of the clouds.</p>
+
+<p>But life’s horizon is ever draped with rich
+folds of white and blue, that hang like silken
+curtains, to hide, with tantalizing secrecy, the<a href="#Page_20"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 20" id="Page_20"></span></a>
+mysteries that lie beyond. Day by day the
+curtains hide their treasure-chests of mystery,
+tempting us to strike tents and journey toward
+them. With the eagerness with which little children
+watch the unwrapping of a Christmas
+package we watch the moving of these clouds,
+trusting that each new shifting of the curtains
+will make the coveted revelation, but as we
+journey on they still evade us.</p>
+
+<p>Conservative people, ones who never startle
+themselves or their friends by doing anything
+new, not that they are averse to doing anything
+new but simply because they are not mentally
+capable of entertaining new ideas, say that the
+mysteries that lie behind the curtained clouds
+are childish fancies and youth’s illusions; and
+that energy expended in reaching the buried
+treasure at the rainbow’s end were as fruitful an
+enterprise. Those of us who have endeavored to
+solve these mysteries know better, for we have
+found that the curtained clouds that hide, are
+the ones that, like banners, guide us to the
+things we really need.</p>
+
+<p>Man must not be unmindful of the ministry of
+mystery. Over against everything enigmatic
+God has given man an insatiable desire to find
+out the hidden meaning. Yielding to that
+divinely implanted impulse develops powers
+that otherwise would atrophy. Behold the<a href="#Page_21"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 21" id="Page_21"></span></a>
+benefits of these endeavors as they lifted the
+human race out of stagnation and taught it the
+way of progress. Tented in the low swamplands,
+eating roots and bark, man saw these
+curtains that suggested to his hunger-pinched
+body the thought of a banqueting-hall where
+he might feed. His quest never brought him to
+the ladened tables of his desire, but as he
+journeyed he found grain and fruits and nuts
+and berries, substantial food for a full twelvemonth.
+Dwelling amid the sick and dying, man
+saw the moving of the curtains that God hangs
+along our sky-line, and felt that, somewhere,
+beyond their folds, must exist a spring, whose
+living waters would not only heal the sick but
+give the drinker perpetual youth. The spring
+was never found, but as man journeyed westward
+in the quest he found a land whose liberties
+and institutions crowd a century of blessings
+into every decade. Toiling with small recompense,
+like some dull beast of burden, man saw
+the clouds that suggested a palace of ease and
+luxury. He failed to find the palace of his
+dreams, but on the way he discovered labor-saving
+machinery that has made his labor a
+delight, and given to every laborer a home surpassing
+in comforts the baron’s stately castle.</p>
+
+<p>Because of the ministry of mystery he has
+been able to discover the depth and values of his<a href="#Page_22"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 22" id="Page_22"></span></a>
+own soul. In his effort to reach the curtained
+clouds man has had to rally his forces, and, to
+meet arising exigencies, he has been compelled
+to draw upon the resources of his nature, until
+he startled himself with his newly discovered
+possibilities and powers. He trained his body to
+wrestle against physical odds; he trained his
+mind to master the handicaps of ignorance; he
+found the glittering sword of courage with which
+to destroy defeating fear; he learned the value
+of faith and hope with which to enrich the soul
+when disaster would impoverish. Without the
+effort aroused by the cloudy curtains of mystery,
+he could not have found himself, and perfected
+his work of invention, art and letters.</p>
+
+<p>The cloud curtains are also the temple curtains
+beyond which men are ever seeking God.
+As the pillared cloud led Israel victoriously
+through troubled waters and desert sands, so the
+mysteries of life and death, and the natural
+world in which we live, have led the human
+mind to religious contemplation. Man found
+himself entangled in the maze of sin, helplessly
+confused amid the ways that wound about, and
+crossed, and led to still more hopeless entanglements.
+Despair pointed to the narrow, tangled
+ways and said, “There is nothing better.” Looking
+upward, the distant clouds spoke of a larger
+world and greater freedom, and beckoned man<a href="#Page_23"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 23" id="Page_23"></span></a>
+to try again. By faith he was saved. To a
+thoughtful, reverent man, all nature reveals and
+conceals the One who brought it into existence.
+An awakened soul will never be satisfied until he
+finds God. He longs to see the Hand that parts
+the curtains and hurls the lightnings. He yearns
+to see the Face whose smile fills the sky with
+sunlight, and transfigures the cloudy curtains,
+until they become the portals of the heavenly
+temple. While mystery is not the mother of
+religion, it is, and ever has been, an important
+part of the Christian faith. “It is the glory of
+God to conceal a thing,” says King Solomon.
+He might have added, “It is the glory of man to
+search until he find it.”</p>
+
+<p>It was from behind the curtained clouds that
+God spoke, introducing Jesus as the world’s
+Redeemer, saying, “This is my beloved Son,
+hear ye him.” It was an overhanging canopy of
+cloud that curtained the disciples on the Mount
+of Transfiguration, and it was in this curtained
+tabernacle that they beheld the glory of their
+Lord. To hide the shame of those who crucified
+His Son, God hung a curtain of cloud about the
+sun, enveloping Calvary in the shades of night.
+It was a curtain of cloud that hid the ascending
+Lord from the sight of the wondering, astonished,
+fear-filled disciples. It was from amid
+their soft drapery that the angels spoke of his<a href="#Page_24"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 24" id="Page_24"></span></a>
+coming again, and it is upon the clouds that the
+Son of man shall come in his glory to judge the
+nations. From the glory of the Patmos vision,
+John exclaimed, “Behold he cometh with
+clouds; and every eye shall see him!” To the
+very end Christ is surrounded with the curtained
+clouds of mystery. “And I looked, and behold
+a white cloud, and upon the cloud One sat like
+unto the Son of man, having on his head a golden
+crown, and in his hand a sharp sickle. And he
+that sat on the cloud thrust in his sickle on the
+earth, and the earth was reaped.”</p>
+
+<p>Mystery has a large part in the Christian
+faith, not to discourage, but to encourage the
+prayerful, aspiring souls of men. The drapery of
+cloud hangs all about, not to defeat, but to
+challenge. It is no illusion like a great desert
+distance filled with the blue of emptiness, that
+strews the sands with the bones of those whom
+it deceives, but is as real as the curtains of the
+ancient tabernacle that held the symbol of Jehovah’s
+presence. Life’s mysteries are often
+most tantalizing; its problems artfully made
+difficult of solution; but always within their
+depths is God.</p>
+
+<p>To-day, for our development, it is the glory
+of God to conceal a matter, but it is the promise
+that some day we shall see, not through the mists
+darkly, but face to face with God. Some day we<a href="#Page_25"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 25" id="Page_25"></span></a>
+shall pass beyond the cloudy portals, and the
+vision of God and our own immortality shall lie
+before our enraptured vision. The puzzle of life
+shall there find perfect solution. The equation
+in which life is now the unknown quantity shall
+find its answer. In that cloudless land we shall
+know even as we are known. The shadows of
+death are the last shadow the soul of the
+righteous shall ever see. Until that glad day
+comes, let us fit ourselves, through prayer and
+goodness, to receive such revelations of the
+mystery of godliness as God may care to reveal
+as he parts the curtains of our life’s horizon,
+knowing that we journey to a perfect, unclouded
+day.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_26"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 26" id="Page_26"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="IV">IV<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+Tilling the Sky</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">Man</span>, that must till the soil for the building
+of his body, must also till the sky for the growing
+of his soul. This was the thought of a little
+woman among the Ozarks, who had given a long
+and beautiful life in training her people of the
+hills. It was Commencement Day in the college
+she had founded. Gathered about her were the
+young men and young women from the humble
+homes of those rugged hills. They were now
+leaving her sheltering care to “commence” life.
+She was such a tiny bit of woman, but through
+the lens of tears in those students’ eyes, she was
+greater and more stately than any queen. Her
+eyes gleamed with a love-lighted moisture, her
+lips trembled with great emotions as she rose to
+offer her last words of counsel. She knew that
+very soon they would be beyond the reach of her
+voice, and her desire was to write just one more
+message upon the pages of their memories, a
+message that should never be erased. Breathlessly
+we awaited her words, which were these:
+“My children, whatever you do, or wherever
+you go, this one task I place before you. Continue<a href="#Page_27"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 27" id="Page_27"></span></a>
+your study of astronomy, for there is
+nothing that so uplifts and widens one’s life as a
+study of the sky.”</p>
+
+<p>These were not the words of a mere dreamer,
+but of a very practical woman, and were words
+of wisdom uttered to young men and young
+women who were practical students, yearning to
+make their lives count. These students were
+trained observers who would travel that they
+might see things as they are; they were scholars
+who would study in order to make discoveries.
+They were to enter the strain and struggle of
+competition. They were to match their brawn
+and brain against honest rivalry and unscrupulous
+dishonesty. They were not entering paradise,
+yet, amid it all, the one who yearned most
+for their unmeasured success and honor, urged
+them to cast their plowshare deep into the wide
+expanse of overarching blue, whose owner is God,
+but whose harvests belong to the reaper.</p>
+
+<p>The little woman was very practical, for a
+man must not permit the narrowing influences of
+earthly endeavor to cramp and destroy the soul.
+This is the tendency of most of our daily duties,
+even those of the most fascinating and absorbing
+scientific character. A man may follow the footsteps
+of Luther Burbank and devote his life to
+the study of plants, and through his magic touch,
+may bring beauty of form and richness of flavor<a href="#Page_28"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 28" id="Page_28"></span></a>
+to bud and blossom, vegetable and fruit, and yet
+the very fascination of the work may bind him
+into a narrow world of just buds and blossoms,
+vegetables and fruits. He may, like Edison or
+Steinmetz, choose the fairyland of electricity;
+or, like Madame Curé, enter the enchanted realm
+of radio-activity; or, like Morse and Bell and
+Davenport, become wizards in the world of
+invention, and find a joy that is as perilous as it
+is unutterable. Any realm of nature or invention,
+absorbs and fascinates as clover blossoms
+claim the bee. He who studies will find that a
+lifetime is too short to fathom the unmeasured
+depths of an atom or explore the mysteries of one
+drop of dew.</p>
+
+<p>But the very fascination of these things is
+their peril, for the tendency of any line of endeavor
+is to narrow and to restrict one’s life.
+One need not yield to this tendency, but the
+chances are that he will. Darwin reports spending
+several delightful years studying fish-worms,
+but while engaged in this absorbing task he lost
+all taste for music. Ericsson had a similar experience.
+Planning, with steel armor, to remake
+the navies of the world, he refused his soul all
+sound of blended tones, endeavoring to feed his
+whole nature on armor plate. It was not until
+Ole Bull, against Ericsson’s desire, entered his
+factory, and began playing his violin, that the<a href="#Page_29"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 29" id="Page_29"></span></a>
+great inventor became a weeping, willing captive,
+kneeling at the shrine of music, tearfully
+confessing that he had then found that which he
+had lost, and for which his soul had been
+craving. When a man, through the microscope,
+begins a life study of the infinitesimal, he is apt
+to get his own ego into the field of vision and
+magnify himself. On the other hand, considering
+only his own achievements in art or architecture,
+one is apt to exaggerate his own importance
+saying, “Is not this great Babylon, which I
+have builded?” However, when he begins to
+study the stars and comprehend something of
+the vastness of the plan upon which God has
+made the heaven and the earth, he will see his
+own littleness and exclaim with the psalmist,
+“When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy
+fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast
+ordained; what is man?”</p>
+
+<p>No earth-made ceiling is high enough for a
+growing brain. Each individual must have a
+God-made sky in which to lift his head and think
+the thoughts of the Almighty. The earthly thing
+upon which we set our affection and which we
+think so essential may mean the wreck and ruin
+of the soul. It is easy to neglect the brain, and
+direct all one’s energies toward gaining earthly
+possessions, not for the opportunities afforded
+for benevolence, but that one may dress in style<a href="#Page_30"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 30" id="Page_30"></span></a>
+and enjoy a social life, not knowing that it is far
+better to be a great thinker than to be the best
+dressed man in Paris. Poverty may be infinitely
+better than wealth when the individual has a
+familiar sky above his head and a good book in
+his hand. How insignificant are earth’s greatest
+obstacles compared with the immensities of
+stellar space! Nothing can hinder the man who
+is accustomed to measure the distances between
+stars. With his eyes on the distant suns, poverty
+becomes a mole-hill; poor health, but a breath
+of mist; and success is within easy reach. It is
+good for one to till the sky until he learns the
+vastness of his Creator’s thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>One of the richest harvests garnered from the
+sky is a revelation of the accuracy with which
+God works. The stars do not dwell in a land of
+“Hit and Miss,” and eclipses are not accidental
+happenings. No ship cuts the waves of the sea
+with half the accuracy as star and planet move
+in their appointed courses. There are no swervings
+nor deviations from the plan of God, so that
+an astronomer can calculate the exact second
+when a comet will return from its long journey
+through unseen realms; as well as foretell the
+conjunction of planets a thousand years from
+now. God has appointed an exact second for the
+rising of the sun, and another exact second for
+its setting, and man knows what both of them<a href="#Page_31"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 31" id="Page_31"></span></a>
+are a thousand years before the day arrives.
+Then let us till the sky until we learn that He
+who planned the high-arched blue, and marked
+orbits for stars and planets, is also the Designer
+of our own lives, and has set for us a divine
+purpose somewhat like the vastness of the sky.
+Yielding ourselves to God as the heavenly constellations
+yield themselves to their controlling
+powers, each one has a greater life to live, and a
+more sublime destiny to attain, than his fondest
+dreams. How foolish it is to till the soil for
+money, and miss the very essence of life, by
+failing to utilize the sky that yields such tender
+ministries with so little effort!</p>
+
+<p>It is well to look upward and learn a lesson of
+patience, for the open sky teaches that the plans
+of God are not worked out in a day. The journey
+from star-dust to harvest-ladened planet peopled
+by a happy family of contented men,
+requires many millions of years, yet, from the
+beginning it was in the mind of God. He has
+never altered his plan, but with divine accuracy
+the work has passed from stage to stage of
+development with perfect progression. With
+such an example, we must learn patience and
+not become discouraged when we cannot see the
+end from the beginning. A child can make a
+shelf full of mud pies in one summer’s afternoon,
+and they will last no longer than the first rain.<a href="#Page_32"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 32" id="Page_32"></span></a>
+Hasty work means wasted effort. Life that
+endures must be planned of God, fulfilled with
+astronomical accuracy, and most patiently
+developed.</p>
+
+<p>How wonderful the brain that is molded after
+something of the vastness of the open sky, and
+how thrilling to walk and till the fields of
+heavenly blue! We were meant for those
+heights. It does not require a very great elevation
+in the pure atmosphere of a Western State
+to push back the horizon forty and fifty miles.
+This planet is not the objective of life. It is
+only the hilltop where God has placed us for a
+little while that we may catch a vision as wide
+as the universe and as high as his own White
+Throne.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_33"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 33" id="Page_33"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="V">V<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+Unquarried Statues</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">Michael Angelo</span>, with his statues of David
+and Moses, proved that Phidias and Praxiteles
+had not exhausted the marvelous possibilities of
+the art of sculpture. Rodin, with his “Thinker,”
+has shown, while Phidias and Praxiteles demonstrated
+the possibility of giving immortality to
+the unsurpassed beauty of Grecian form, and
+while Michael Angelo revealed the power of
+expressing grace, as in David, and commanding
+leadership, as in Moses, that the achievements
+of these two schools of art were the Pillars of
+Hercules, not marking the limit of art, but the
+open gateway to uncharted seas and undiscovered
+realms in the art of reshaping marble.
+There is not a lofty sentiment of the soul, a
+struggling aspiration toward goodness, or form
+of idealism that cannot be made to live in
+marble, and exert undying influence. There is
+more than “an angel in the block of marble.”
+There are all the hopes and fears, joys and
+sorrows, laughter and tears, longings and aspirations,
+desires and despairs; there is all that is
+manly, noble, and heroic, lying in any block of<a href="#Page_34"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 34" id="Page_34"></span></a>
+marble awaiting the coming of the liberating
+chisel. What inspiration to the young artist of
+to-day, and what joy to all lovers of the beautiful!
+The depths of earth are stored with a
+wealth of unquarried statues.</p>
+
+<p>The progress of civilization is ofttimes
+hindered because youth, in thinking of statues,
+consider the pedestals upon which they rest
+rather than the depth from which they were
+quarried. They very often do not care to begin
+life at the right place. Because they covet
+praise, and enjoy the warm, congenial atmosphere
+of appreciation, they shun the depths,
+hours of loneliness, the unrequited toil of
+preparation, and the laborious efforts of beginning.
+Modeling clay is an important part of
+the achievement; but getting the proper marble
+is one of the first essentials.</p>
+
+<p>The experience of Michael Angelo is common
+to all men of real achievement: he found that
+the market place does not offer marble blocks of
+sufficient size for him to work out his divine
+conception. Hucksters and makers of money in
+the market place seldom understand ambitious
+youth that asks for larger blocks than they are
+capable of handling. Their idea of a great
+thought is an ornament for the mantelpiece. But
+men of achievement will not be daunted. Locking
+his studio, Angelo went to superintend the<a href="#Page_35"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 35" id="Page_35"></span></a>
+breaking of blocks in the mountain of Carrara,
+and when the sluggish-minded people of the
+mountains refused to do his bidding, he opened
+new quarries in Seravez. Before he could carve
+his statue he knew that he must quarry a block
+of marble sufficiently large. He knew also that
+the block of marble could be had for the digging.
+He found what he needed but did not exhaust
+the treasury. The world still has the material,
+richer than that which made Angelo and Rodin
+famous, awaiting the youth of ambition to
+undertake great things, and the willingness, at
+any cost, to superintend the breaking of the
+marble blocks from the buried storehouses.</p>
+
+<p>The pleasure of nature is to store her raw
+material in seemingly inaccessible strongholds.
+She does not willingly yield them to men lacking
+vision and great conceptions. If they were of
+easy access, common men would crush them to
+make roads for donkeys to tramp over. Nature’s
+treasures are too valuable for ignorance to
+destroy, so she locks them in secret depths or
+inaccessible heights, awaiting the coming of the
+man of genius. If only a man yields himself to
+the divine leadings, and catches a vision of a
+statue like Moses, or a façade for the Church
+of San Lorenzo, or for a mausoleum for the
+Medici, no mountainside is too steep to chisel
+a roadway through the jagged rocks, no morass<a href="#Page_36"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 36" id="Page_36"></span></a>
+so yielding but that a solid highway may be
+erected, no water so troubled but that boats may
+safely transport the precious marble. He will
+not depend upon hirelings nor lean upon borrowed
+strength. The dream of beauty must be
+wrought in marble, the unquarried statue must
+be lifted from obscurity and made to live in
+some public place, therefore he will personally
+attend to the breaking of the blocks.</p>
+
+<p>It is not an easy matter to live out a divine
+idea and make it a thing tangible and real for a
+critical world to examine and criticize and afterwards
+love and venerate. Sluggards and lovers
+of ease cannot do it. To them an unquarried
+statue is only a stone. For centuries no one has
+given it any attention; why should they? They
+would rather have something to eat and drink.
+A cushioned chair is far more comfortable to sit
+on, and a potato is much more substantial food.
+What they want is something to eat, and a place
+in which to lounge, and because they do not see
+the value of great ideas they can never be forgotten
+when dead, for they were never known
+while living.</p>
+
+<p>He lives who forgets to live and concentrates
+all his powers in bringing to light the vision of
+his beauty-loving soul. It may be the beauty of
+art or the beauty of worthy living; it may be
+the beauty of perfect workmanship in shop or<a href="#Page_37"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 37" id="Page_37"></span></a>
+factory, or the beauty of a wholesome influence
+flowing from noble character; it may be loveliness
+of sympathetic serving, or the beauty of
+aggressive battle for righteousness; it may take
+any one of many forms of exalted thinking and
+endeavor, yet its realization comes only when
+one eats, and drinks, and bends every energy,
+not for the sake of living, but for the realization
+of that which is more than living.</p>
+
+<p>How lamentable for a human life to end and
+find at the final judgment that all its days were
+of less value to the world than that of a coral
+polyp! How wonderful for one to be made out
+of dust, and after a while to crumble back into
+dust, and yet, refusing to grovel in the dust,
+leave the world richer, and better, and more
+beautiful, so that people of another age will
+breathe his name in reverence as they behold
+that which he hath wrought. Professor Finsen,
+the inventor of the “light cure,” was an invalid
+for many years, yet he labored like a slave, in
+the severest self-denial, to bring his invention,
+without compensation, to the service of the
+world’s sick and suffering. He had but one dread
+and that was the regret of dying, and leaving his
+little five-year-old boy without any memory of
+his father. He desired to live long enough to
+impress his face and life upon the memory of
+his son, that, in the after years, the growing<a href="#Page_38"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 38" id="Page_38"></span></a>
+man would never forget the one who toiled so
+earnestly for him. He did not want to be forgotten.
+How little did he dream of the immortality
+that was his! He found an unquarried
+statue in the sunbeam where others had overlooked
+it. Through ceaseless toil he brought it
+within the vision of the world and gained a name
+that countless ages will not forget.</p>
+
+<p>How wonderful to be the son of such a man!
+And though the image of the father’s face be
+blotted from the memory, the statue that he
+carved will help and heal the generations. How
+wonderful to be the son of such a man, but how
+much more wonderful it is to be the man himself!
+To fight with optimistic heart against the
+ravages of disease, to overcome the natural
+yearnings of a father’s heart, to endure the most
+slavish toil without thought or hope of compensation,
+to be a sick man fighting for others
+who were sick; a dying man making battle
+against disease that others may not taste of
+death!</p>
+
+<p>This is the joy unspeakable, to know that life
+is not in vain, but everlastingly worth while.
+The visions shall not fade as summer clouds at
+twilight time, but shall live in that which is as
+imperishable as marble. Each one can say with
+deep resolve: “Men shall behold the beauty of
+my soul by beholding the beauty of my daily<a href="#Page_39"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 39" id="Page_39"></span></a>
+life. Since words are blossoms, I shall, with
+gracious speech, show my friends how choice a
+garden I have planted in my heart. Since every
+blossom bears a seed I shall take pleasure in
+planting them within the hearts of others, that
+the beauty of my life may live in them. Out of
+the marble block that it has been mine to break
+from its hiding place, I shall carve the image I
+have treasured so long within my heart.” To
+do this is to find a joy unspeakable. Life is not
+useless, but gloriously worth while. Eating, and
+drinking, and toiling for that which is far more
+than life, one can never die.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_40"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 40" id="Page_40"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="VI">VI<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+The Ages to Come</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">No</span> matter how earnestly we may love our
+life-calling, and rejoice in our chosen field of
+activity, there are hours when the easiest task
+becomes irksome and its daily repetition seems
+unbearable. However healthy the soul and
+robust the moral nature, a constant onslaught of
+sorrow may wound like a poisoned dart, filling
+the soul with painful forebodings. Beholding the
+transitoriness of life, and the apparent frailty
+and uncertainty of those things upon which we
+place our heaviest dependence, we become depressed,
+and feel that nothing is permanent and
+that life’s products are but empty shadows.
+These are common experiences, and their frequent
+repetition does not lessen their depressive
+power. Coming upon us to-day they are just as
+hurtful as when they challenged us for the first
+time.</p>
+
+<p>That we may overcome these disagreeable
+tendencies, and live a life victorious, Paul revealed
+the secret of his own achievements. To
+him work never became drudgery, sorrow never
+festered or left a feverish wound, while even the<a href="#Page_41"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 41" id="Page_41"></span></a>
+most commonplace incident was of the deepest
+significance because he had learned to acquire
+and maintain a deep perspective that placed
+each moment of time in the white light of
+eternity. He believed that we are not created
+for the hour but for the centuries, and that we
+must work not so much for the present hour as
+for the years that are yet to be. The one purpose
+of every word and deed, to Paul, was to “show the
+ages to come the exceeding riches of God’s grace.”</p>
+
+<p>As the prolific and luxuriant vegetation of the
+carboniferous age bordered the lakes with ferns,
+the rivers with reeds, and the hillsides and
+valleys with gigantic trees of grotesque form,
+that, in the ages to come, man might have the
+exhaustless coalbeds to protect him from the
+cold; as the coral polyps, buried beneath the
+waves, love and labor and die, generation after
+generation, until a coral island lifts its head to
+receive the kisses of the passing waves and extend
+the arms of a protecting harbor, that, in
+the ages to come, the storm-tossed mariners may
+find safe shelter against the stormy wind and
+wave; so you and I are to love, and labor, and
+die, not for ourselves, but that the ages to come,
+through our goodness and fidelity, may behold
+the riches of God’s grace.</p>
+
+<p>This does not mean that we are to so bury
+the present in the future that our lives shall<a href="#Page_42"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 42" id="Page_42"></span></a>
+consist of nothing save vague dreams and idle
+contemplations. It means the opposite. We are
+to magnify the present and give it increasing
+value by crowding it with an eternal significance.
+We are not to drop to-day into the
+silent ocean of the future and see it fade from
+sight, but into to-day we are to crowd to-morrow
+and all the other to-morrows that shall
+follow. Instead of losing the drop of water in
+Niagara we are to crowd all the dash and splendor
+and power of Niagara into the single drop of
+water; instead of losing the dew in the ocean, we
+crowd the ocean into the dewdrop; instead of
+burying the present into the future, we gather all
+eternity and crowd it into a single lifetime, so
+that every second of time becomes as precious as
+a thousand years of eternity, and the smallest
+task we have to perform becomes as sacred as
+the songs of the angels.</p>
+
+<p>When one possesses this conception of life
+that crowds a vast eternity within the compass
+of a single individual life, no toil can ever become
+drudgery. Every deed has divine significance.
+The most ordinary task will be performed carefully,
+knowing that it must stand the scrutiny
+and criticisms of the passing centuries. We
+labor then with the various elements of life, as
+the artists of Venice toil with their priceless
+mosaics, willing to spend a lifetime of painstaking<a href="#Page_43"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 43" id="Page_43"></span></a>
+endeavor in forming a single feature of a
+saint, knowing that long after they themselves
+have ceased to toil the wisdom of untold centuries
+shall review their efforts to either praise or
+blame. Hitherto we have despised the commonplace
+things that fell to our hands, while we
+busied ourselves searching for some great thing
+worthy of our effort, with the result that nothing
+has been accomplished; now we find, that that
+only is truly great which is commonplace.
+Divine opportunities are everywhere. In the
+low-browed man upon the street we see the
+possibility of an ennobled and redeemed humanity.
+In the waif, crying from hunger, we see
+the center of world-wide and eternal destinies.
+Words are winged messengers, so we learn to
+study them with care, and speak them with the
+precision with which a musician strikes his
+chords. Divine destinies are depending upon the
+perfection with which we toil, adding a charm to
+every endeavor that never fades with weariness.
+There can be no drudgery to him who has a
+perspective eternity long.</p>
+
+<p>This conception of life which Paul gives us
+will carry us unharmed through all the misfortunes
+of life. It is impossible for us to escape
+sorrow. By rigid economy we may save our
+money only to have it stolen by a deceitful
+friend; we may build a home, only to find it<a href="#Page_44"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 44" id="Page_44"></span></a>
+purchased and occupied by another; loved ones,
+more precious than our own lives, have been
+lured from our side by the hand of death. These
+hours are naturally dark and of tortuous length,
+and if it were not for the fact that we have
+learned to think in terms of eternity, we would
+die of a broken heart. But we do not die; we
+pass through them with triumphant tread. The
+soul sobs but does not bleed; the heart hurts but
+does not break. We are not living for this world
+alone; our horizon has been widened because we
+have been lifted to a higher level; we can now
+see two worlds; our faith sweeps onward as far
+as God can think. The earthly home for which
+we planned and toiled has passed into the hands
+of another, but we rejoice in the knowledge that
+we have a home, not made with toiling, blistered
+hands of earth, but one eternal in the heavens.
+Our loved ones no longer greet us at the table or
+occupy their accustomed places in the family
+circle, but we have not lost them forever. They
+have simply passed from time into eternity, and
+because we also are the children of eternity, they
+are still our own, and we shall see them once
+again. Thank God for the transforming power
+that comes into every human life when, by
+divine aid, one crowds eternal significance into
+his days, and works, not for himself, but for “the
+ages to come.”</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_45"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 45" id="Page_45"></span></a></p>
+
+<p>Paul’s view of life enables us to find perfect
+satisfaction in working with the frailties of time
+in building that which is immortal in character
+and service. Possessed with such a purpose, the
+spider’s web becomes a cable, dust becomes
+slabs of marble, and seconds becomes decades.
+There is nothing more fragile than a word,
+spoken in stammering weakness, but with a
+trembling desire to be of service, yet out of one
+word fitly spoken may be created an influence
+that sweeps heaven and earth. A faltering word
+of Christian testimony was spoken by a godly
+man made weak by an unconquerable embarrassment,
+but his utterance proved mighty.
+Lodging in the heart of Charles Spurgeon, it
+started him on his wonderful career that is yet
+shaking all Christendom. The smile of the face
+is far more delicate than the frailest blossom that
+opens its soft petals in obedience to the caressing
+influence of the sun, for its existence is but for
+the fraction of a second; yet one kindly, love-illumined
+look has been the force that has lifted
+multitudes of mortals out of despondency and
+uselessness, and made them the creators of
+mighty moral and religious forces. It was a
+smile that saved John G. Wooley for the cause
+of temperance. A smile, and a word, and the
+gift of a handkerchief were all that Frances E.
+Willard used to redeem one of the most notorious<a href="#Page_46"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 46" id="Page_46"></span></a>
+characters of Chicago, and make her one of
+God’s ministers of light among the fallen.</p>
+
+<p>When one learns to live with the light of
+eternity flooding his pathway there is not an
+event in life so small and insignificant that he
+cannot employ it to create, and afterward use it,
+to sustain eternal influences. There is joy now
+in living for Christ, but let us live, not for that
+joy alone, but that, in the ages to come, we may
+show the exceeding riches of God’s grace. Let
+them, through us, behold what the grace of God
+can do to save, to keep, to empower, and to
+make immortal such sin-smitten ones as we
+have been. This is the secret for making toil
+pleasant, sorrows helpless, and the humblest
+effort an enterprise of such character as crowds
+earth with richer meaning, and fills the heavens
+with new-found joys. Show them that the
+greatest of all known forces is a Christ-filled
+life.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_47"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 47" id="Page_47"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="VII">VII<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+The Unlocked Door of Truth</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">History</span> has proven that the power of the
+“All Highest” War Lord is as weak as a baby’s
+arm compared with the power of the humblest
+individual who has entered into and taken
+possession of some great truth. A thousand
+lords and ladies were gathered within the
+Babylonian palace which was ablaze with light
+and filled with music. All hail to King Belshazzar!
+His praises were upon every lip. All honor
+to the royal family that had lifted the hanging
+gardens above the low-lying plains, who had
+swung gates of bronze and planned the mightiest
+city in the world. Every lip praised and every
+heart feared the power of the daring king. But
+when the finger of God wrote a message of fire
+upon the palace walls it was no longer Belshazzar
+who was ruler. The fate of king and lord and
+ladies was in the hand of Daniel. He alone of
+that great throng had seen and entered into the
+truth of temperance and self-control. Such was
+the sustaining power of that possessed truth
+that when the man-made king trembled, and a
+nation crumbled into oblivion, he alone stood<a href="#Page_48"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 48" id="Page_48"></span></a>
+unmoved and triumphant amid the wreck and
+chaos.</p>
+
+<p>Before the throne of ecclesiastical autocracy
+the rulers of the nations bowed in weakness and
+everlasting shame. The autocracy of superstition
+is the most merciless and deadly known, but
+when the power of Rome was at the zenith of
+her unscrupulous reign, Martin Luther, a common
+man with uncommon sense, discovered and
+entered into the great truth that “the just shall
+live by faith.” Entering into that truth, he
+found a power before which the claims of the
+Pope became insignificant, and by his boldness,
+brought religious liberty to the people, thus
+gaining universal love and immortality.</p>
+
+<p>Mary was Queen of England, and with that
+overzeal of religious bigotry, was ruling with unquestioned
+power and severity. Hugh Latimer
+was only a humble preacher, one of the least of
+the queen’s subjects, living among the poor, but
+beside him, Queen Mary sinks into everlasting
+contempt. The robes of fire wrapped his body
+in their golden folds, hiding him forever from
+the sight of man, but the world has not forgotten
+him. His dust knows no burial place, but because
+he lived in the sheltering tabernacle of a
+great truth he will live forever in the hearts of
+those who love religious tolerance, while the dust
+of Mary crumbles in the gruesome vault at<a href="#Page_49"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 49" id="Page_49"></span></a>
+Westminster Abbey, with no lip to sing her
+praises to the passing generations. Royal or
+ecclesiastical power is nothing compared with
+the enduring authority of a common man who
+has found, and entered into, and wholly and
+completely lives a great eternal truth of God.</p>
+
+<p>Truth incarnate in human life is almighty, but
+truth in the abstract is as helpless as is the dust
+of the Egyptian highways, which witnessed the
+world’s mightiest pageants, but which are unable
+to tell the story of mighty armies, royal
+cavalcades, and kingly processions that once
+tramped upon them. Truth has always existed.
+However conceited a religious leader may be, no
+one ever dared to presume himself the creator
+of a truth. Long before the world had settled
+upon its foundations, and the constellations of
+stars, like chandeliers, swayed and swung their
+pendants of light, all truth beat and throbbed
+within the heart of the Almighty. Throughout
+the beauty of verdant slope, crested wave, and
+starlit sky, these words of encouragement have
+ever rung: “Ye shall know the truth, and the
+truth shall make you free.” The truths of
+civilization have been in existence since creation,
+yet in every century heathenism has flourished.
+The truth about human freedom has always
+been, yet Rameses sat upon a throne and drove
+the Hebrews to their task, beating their backs<a href="#Page_50"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 50" id="Page_50"></span></a>
+with knotted thongs and murdering their children;
+the barons lived in palatial palaces fed in
+luxury, while serfs toiled for harvests which they
+could never gather, and starving, dared not
+plead for a morsel of the food their toil provided;
+the Sultan of Turkey reveled in orgies, flagrant
+and disgusting, while humble Armenians were
+torn asunder, their bleeding bodies fed to swine,
+their wives and children tortured beyond belief,
+while no civilized nation dared lift its hand in
+protest. Truth, in itself, is not omnipotent. To
+be of value, truth must be entered into and
+possessed.</p>
+
+<p>Every truth has a door. To ignorance the
+door is barred and bolted. To thoughtlessness,
+the door remains unseen. Only to the eye
+trained with prayer, faith in God, and love for
+man, is given the vision of these bright portals,
+and the possession of the key by which he can
+unlock the door and enter into and enjoy the
+truth, which the world has long known by heart,
+but which had never enveloped, sheltered, and
+controlled their lives. If he has the courage to
+use the key and open the door and enter in, he
+shall not only feel the saving power of God, but
+he shall leave an open way through which all
+men may pass to greater power. If he refuses
+to unlock the door, and, like the learned ones of
+whom Christ spoke, carries away the key, entering<a href="#Page_51"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 51" id="Page_51"></span></a>
+not in themselves and hindering those who
+would enter, he becomes an exile, without home
+through time and eternity.</p>
+
+<p>That we may more clearly comprehend this
+truth let us consider a chapter of American
+history. Hayne had finished his classic and convincing
+speech. With gracious charm he had
+proclaimed the doctrine of union without
+liberty, a nation of free people, half slave. The
+rapt attention and tribute of silent applause
+from the audience told how critical the situation
+had become. Opposed to him was Daniel
+Webster, America’s favorite child of genius,
+whose face was as classic as a Greek god’s, and
+whose commanding bearing won battles like a
+general. He was a scholar of the strong New
+England type, searching for the key to unlock
+the truth that the nation needed, and make it
+of easy access to the people. He saw that there
+could be no union without universal freedom.
+Hour after hour he proclaimed the truth, making
+the mightiest speech the nation had ever heard,
+swaying his audience back to the realm of clear
+thinking. Finally, with one sentence, “Union
+and liberty, now and forever, one and inseparable,”
+he revealed to an awakened nation that
+he had found the key that would unlock the
+door of truth that the hour needed. But in his
+hour of triumph, dazzled by the possibility of<a href="#Page_52"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 52" id="Page_52"></span></a>
+becoming President, he refused to use the key.
+To gain the solid South he uttered his fateful
+speech for compromise. The North held its
+breath in expectancy while New England sobbed
+like one bereft of his favorite child. He who had
+the key refused to enter in himself and hindered
+those who would have entered.</p>
+
+<p>But New England had another son of genius
+who, on the eventful night that Webster, with
+trembling fingers, tried, and failed, to pick up
+the key that he had thrown away, left Faneuil
+Hall with blazing, burning thoughts. He too had
+found the way, but was unknown and untried.
+Again he was in Faneuil Hall sitting beside
+James Russell Lowell, listening to the mad
+mouthings of men, who, for the money involved,
+were endeavoring to rechristen Wrong and call
+it Right. He had waited weary weeks, but now
+he was unable to keep back his flaming indignation.
+Rising, he began to speak. On the very
+platform where Webster had fallen he began to
+plead the right of human liberty. New England
+was thrilled with hope. Here at last was a man
+who not only saw the truth but was determined
+to enter into it. With the confidence of a
+prophet he used the key, unlocked the door and
+showed a nation the way it ought to go.</p>
+
+<p>Truth must become incarnate in man and man
+must be incarnate in truth. Every Christian<a href="#Page_53"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 53" id="Page_53"></span></a>
+man will testify to this. In childhood you committed
+scripture which had little meaning to
+your childish mind. It was not until in the after
+years when sorrow came, and grief blinded the
+eye, and pain wounded the heart, that the clear,
+sweet voice of memory began to repeat these
+verses, and what had been meaningless in childhood
+became great, wholesome, sheltering,
+protecting truths, in which you found all the
+consolations of God.</p>
+
+<p>It is a wonderful hour when the soul enters
+into and takes possession of God’s great truth,
+becomes the master of all its stored up power,
+and begins to use it in the service of love. It is
+a wonderful experience and need never be
+delayed, for the door is easy to find. Years ago
+earth was blessed by the coming of One who
+worked hard at the carpenter trade, and in the
+school of toil and prayer, found the way that
+scholars had overlooked. Standing before kings
+and earthly potentates he said: “I am the way,
+the truth, and the life.” His spirit is the way
+for men to live, the door through which they
+pass into all truth, the life of fullest spiritual
+development. Christ is the open way to every
+truth. Through him men attain the proper
+point of view, and, learning to obey the Father
+as did he, begin to live the life triumphant.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_54"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 54" id="Page_54"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="VIII">VIII<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+Weaving Sunbeams</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">Nature</span> is always busy weaving sunbeams,
+and not one of them, like a knotted thread, is
+cast from her loom. The waves cast their crystal
+spray upon the sands to waste away, but not so
+with the sun as he lavishly casts his beams
+broadcast o’er the earth. Not one of them goes
+upon a fruitless errand, and not one of them fails
+to reach its intended goal. It is not that the sun
+is wise in directing its energy, but because the
+earth is ready to utilize, with untiring fidelity,
+the gift of sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>How abundantly the sunbeams come! The
+arched sky is an upturned basket, out of which
+God is pouring his wealth of sunlight upon a
+thirsty, needy planet. These rays of light fall
+everywhere, because they are needed everywhere.
+Upon arctic snow and desert sand and
+undiscovered ocean waves they fall as readily as
+upon the forests of Brittany or the vineyards of
+France. They place their gleaming coronets
+upon the crystal brows of the Alps. They dance
+and flash their jewels, as they hold carnival in<a href="#Page_55"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 55" id="Page_55"></span></a>
+the Northern Lights. Even after the sun is set
+they peer at us through the parted clouds and
+leap at us from their hiding places in the moon.
+They fall in the most inaccessible places, yet
+none of them are ever wasted. As the parched
+earth drinks raindrops, so the old world absorbs
+sunbeams. Swifter and more powerful than the
+leaping waters of a cataract are they poured
+upon the earth—a Niagara, world-wide and sun-high,
+with never-ceasing floods of light that
+bathe each portion of the globe. They are not
+piled in heaps; they do not swish and whirl,
+cutting a gorge through solid rock, or form
+a whirlpool to menace humanity, but the earth
+absorbs them all, however rapidly they come,
+and places them in her mysterious loom. Here,
+in the depths, beyond our sight, the sunbeams
+are woven into invisible cords that hold the
+needles of all the compasses to the north that
+no traveler need be lost in the forest, and no ship
+perish in the sea. Here, in the depths, the sunbeams
+are woven into mighty cables of electric
+power that man picks up with the fingers of the
+dynamo and compels to lift his burdens, pull
+his trains, propel his ships, and serve him in a
+thousand ways. Here, in the depths, is woven
+that mysterious power that carries the wireless
+message through the rocks of the mountains and
+the channels of the sea, and wraps the earth in<a href="#Page_56"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 56" id="Page_56"></span></a>
+a diaphanous garb that makes the wireless
+telephone a possibility.</p>
+
+<p>The world we see is but woven sunbeams. The
+forests of oak are the sunbeams of yesterday,
+wrought into gnarled and knotted fingers to
+grasp the sunbeams of to-day and wind them on
+a myriad unseen shuttles. Soon they shall appear
+woven in the texture of notched leaf and
+carved chalice of the acorn’s cup. The sunbeams
+falling upon the tangled branches of the hillside
+vineyard, are woven into buds, and leaves, and
+clinging tendrils, and afterward into the rich
+cluster of luscious grapes. The sunbeams fall
+upon the buried seed and are woven into an
+emerald lever with which the clod is lifted, into
+sturdy leaves that are chemical laboratories
+where crude sap is changed into milk, into heads
+of golden wheat with which to feed a thoughtless,
+hungry world. Sunbeams are woven into
+corn and oats, into apples and peaches, into nuts
+and berries. Falling along the railroad grade,
+they are woven into violets; falling in the
+swamps, they are woven into buttercups; falling
+in the thicket, they are woven into the silken
+folds of the wild-rose petal.</p>
+
+<p>As nature weaves the sunbeam and not the
+shadow so man ought to develop his power of
+utilizing happiness and joy. The sunshine of life
+ought not to be thrown away like confetti and<a href="#Page_57"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 57" id="Page_57"></span></a>
+ribbon papers on a gala day. Thoughtlessly our
+youths and maidens dance and sing in giddy,
+senseless manner, throwing away sunbeams as
+though their lives were only bits of colored glass
+through which the light of joy and happiness
+should pass. Having no looms with which to
+weave their sunbeams into that which would
+adorn their souls with garments of ever-growing
+life, they soon become old and haggard, lifeless
+and dead, a burned-out planet like the moon,
+unable to appreciate the sunlight that never fails
+to fall. Much of the difference between men
+is due to the ability of one and the inability of
+the other to make the passing joys of life become
+a permanent, abiding element of his life.</p>
+
+<p>There is no life without sufficient sunlight to
+weave a gracious personality. Wholesomeness
+of character is not the result of partiality on
+God’s part, neither is hideous irritability of disposition
+occasioned by God’s neglect of one
+of his children. The difference between wholesomeness
+and unwholesomeness of character is
+that of the right and wrong use of the blessings
+which God bestows upon all alike. He who casts
+his sunbeams away will find old age desert and
+lifeless, while he who weaves them all into a
+pleasing personality, will always experience the
+joy of a more abundant life. A smile is softer
+than a silken fiber and wears far longer. Its<a href="#Page_58"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 58" id="Page_58"></span></a>
+colors never fade, nor pass out of style. Woven
+into a robe of genuine cheerfulness the soul
+possesses rich adornment. These are the individuals
+whom children love, men seek to honor, and
+all the world respects. A king’s robe is commonplace
+compared with the attractive vesture of a
+healthy, cheerful disposition which anyone may
+weave out of sunbeams, with which God crowds
+even the most secluded, humble lives.</p>
+
+<p>This occupation is also the secret of sound and
+vigorous influence. All men possess the power
+of influence, but even when one has the best
+intentions he may wield a harmful, baleful influence
+because of an irritable and complaining
+disposition. A petulant temper and irascible
+disposition are the thunder that curds much of
+the milk of human kindness, and an application
+of alum will not tend to sweeten the curd. With
+a sharp tongue one may be driven to hard labor,
+but the wounds he carries in his heart will prevent
+him from performing a perfect task. Scolding
+and fault-finding have driven multitudes into
+iniquity. It is difficult to drive bees, but one can
+lure them any distance with a field of blooming
+clover. By forgetting to weave sunbeams into
+wholesome character one not only loses the joy
+of being cheerful but fails in one of the supreme
+objectives of life—that of wielding intelligently
+a helpful, healthy, and enduring influence.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_59"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 59" id="Page_59"></span></a></p>
+
+<p>The secret of achievement may also be
+described as weaving sunbeams. In a victorious
+life the blessings of God take permanent place
+in the work of hand and brain. Such a life is a
+loom which receives only that he may produce,
+the quality of the production depending upon
+the care and patience with which he works, indifference
+producing mediocrity, carefulness
+leading to perfection. What the world calls
+genius is simply the mastery of the gracious art
+of weaving sunbeams into polished sentences,
+enduring thoughts, embroidered tapestry, living
+poem, inspiring painting, and graceful statue.
+The way out of mediocrity is to weave one’s
+personal blessings into world-wide benefits.</p>
+
+<p>Here also is found the way to overcome life’s
+obstacles. A frown never wins a battle. It was
+a singing army that crossed the sea and helped
+win the World War. Amid the dangers, hardships,
+and privations our soldiers gathered sunbeams,
+and with a cheerfulness never before
+witnessed upon a field of battle did their full
+part. Trenches, barbed-wire entanglement,
+and treacherous pitfall are nothing to one who
+weaves his sunbeams into song. Thus all difficulties
+fade away and vanish.</p>
+
+<p>These statements are only another way of
+saying that one should weave God into every
+fiber of life. The sun is always emblematic of the<a href="#Page_60"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 60" id="Page_60"></span></a>
+Father, and he who weaves sunbeams will know
+and love God. This is no idle saying, nor a bit
+of rhetoric, but a soul-saving truth. It is the
+sun that banishes the shadows; it is God who
+enables us to overcome our temptations, pain
+and sorrow. The more we utilize his revelations
+the brighter the pathway, until at last we shall
+stand in his presence and have no more need of
+the sun, for we have him. “They shall hunger
+no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall
+the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the
+Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall
+feed them, and shall lead them into living
+fountains of waters: and God shall wipe all tears
+from their eyes.” Weaving sunbeams in a world
+of shadows, we prepare ourselves for the unshadowed
+land where God is the everlasting
+Light. There, without sin or suffering, we shall
+know God.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_61"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 61" id="Page_61"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="IX">IX<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+The Pathway of a Noble Purpose</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">As</span> the sleepless eye thirsts for the dawn, and
+the troubled child hungers for the sound of its
+mother’s voice, so each growing soul seeks a
+coveted goal the attaining of which, to him,
+means success. As boys, to be boys, must dream
+their dreams of strife and conflict upon a battle’s
+front, and girls, to be girls, must dream their
+milder dreams of love, so coming maturity demands
+of each aspiring soul that he linger long
+upon the visions of strife that lead to success.
+It is well to seek for great things, for each success
+that enters the golden portals of our lives
+brings many chariots filled with golden gifts.
+Returning to his home, the Roman victor was
+honored with a triumph in which, on golden
+plate and velvet spread, the trophies and spoils
+of conquest were displayed. In this way the
+ambitious Roman youth learned that success is
+always attended by a great procession of rich
+rewards. The one who conquers feels more than
+the soul-thrill of victory. Like Samson, he finds
+the unexpected reward of a carcass filled with
+honey awaiting his hungry lips.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_62"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 62" id="Page_62"></span></a></p>
+
+<p>While success is worthy of one’s best efforts,
+and all men hunger for it, very few, indeed, have
+ever reached that happy goal. They failed because
+they refused to follow the pathway of a
+noble purpose. They believed that success was
+altogether a matter of outward form. Seeing
+the conqueror riding in triumphant procession,
+they thought that the applause arose, not because
+he had conquered, but because he wore a
+helmet and a shield. Hurrying to an emporium,
+they too purchased helmets and shields and
+strutted forth to win a world’s applause. Foolish
+souls! The public eye is keen and penetrating
+and always apprehends the truth. If the people
+greet a king with shouts, it is not because they
+see a gleaming crown, but because they recognize
+a royal soul beneath the crown. If the
+multitude cheer a warrior, it is not because he
+bears a standard, but because, in courageous
+conflict, he won a battle for the people. Spain
+greeted the discoverer of America, not because
+of the grain and fruit he brought, but because
+he had braved the dangers of a dark unknown,
+and blazed a pathway through untracked
+wastes.</p>
+
+<p>History repeats the story of a weird Scythian
+custom. When the head of a house died his
+family would adorn his corpse in finest raiment,
+place it in a chariot, and, amid shouts and<a href="#Page_63"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 63" id="Page_63"></span></a>
+hosannas, draw it to the homes of former friends.
+Coming to each dwelling place, the corpse would
+be greeted with pomp and splendor. For the
+final home-coming the steps would be carpeted
+with silken shawl and choice embroidery, while
+lighted chandeliers flashed welcome to the dead
+and sunken eyes. Within the doorway the
+crowned corpse was placed at the head of a
+banqueting table at which his gay companions
+sat and made merry, eating and drinking in his
+honor. Thus many days were spent in honoring
+the dead before the body was laid away in the
+tomb. To us it was a most gruesome custom, but
+each Scythian youth struggled to possess a home
+of his own, that some day he might be carried as
+a crowned corpse through the city streets, and
+finally, be seated in honor at his own banqueting
+board.</p>
+
+<p>This ancient custom was the outgrowth of a
+mistaken view of life still prevailing in many
+quarters, for the crowned corpse is seen to-day
+in many public gatherings. What else is the man
+who seeks office for the selfish purpose and
+pleasure of holding office? In youth he saw the
+governor’s chair or Senate seat, and found that
+every chord of his nature was awakened and
+longed to reach that goal. He determined that
+this vision of his soul should be transcribed from
+the pages of his imagination to the pages of his<a href="#Page_64"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 64" id="Page_64"></span></a>
+nation’s history. Two pathways opened. The
+one of a noble purpose, saying, “Seek office, that
+you may render needed service to your fellow
+countrymen.” The pathway of selfishness
+opened its portals saying, “Seek office for the
+sake of gain.” Seeing that trickery and deceit
+promised the easier way to gain his end, he
+started with leaps and bounds. He cast lots with
+dishonesty and dissipation. He became a perjurer,
+a liar, and a thief. He sold himself to an
+unworthy cause, at last the coveted crown was
+his. To-day he sits at the head of the table, not
+a great ruler, but a crowned corpse. In his
+struggle for power he lost all that constitutes
+real living.</p>
+
+<p>What else is the man who seeks wealth for the
+sole sake of having money? For years he has
+lived the life of a slave, denying himself beauty,
+music, books, devotions, and benevolence, until,
+at last, his name appears in Bradstreet marked
+“AA,” and the world greets him as a king. Who
+is he? A crowned corpse. When he began his
+career two pathways opened. The one of a noble
+purpose saying, “Make money for the sake of
+doing good.” The other way, the way of selfishness,
+saying, “Make money to satisfy your own
+desires.” He chose the latter way. He has his
+robe and crown, and is seated amid light and
+applause, but he is not capable of appreciating<a href="#Page_65"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 65" id="Page_65"></span></a>
+its meaning. Long ago he died to honor, and
+truth, and love, and generous impulse. He
+knows not the meaning of life.</p>
+
+<p>Among the crowned corpses should also be
+mentioned those who follow society for society’s
+sake. Through imitation they have destroyed
+personality. They have smothered their souls
+under the weight of their self-adornment. In
+their wild search for physical pleasure all the
+radiant, sparkling glory of a cultured spirituality
+has faded into the pallor of death. They are
+richly robed, they ride in state, receive the
+plaudits of their followers, sit at table spread
+with gold and silver plate, but they are now
+dead to all the higher things of life and are unable
+to appreciate the empty honors they
+receive.</p>
+
+<p>The secret of successful living is to follow the
+pathway of a noble purpose. At first the path
+may seem a long and arduous one, but it is the
+only way that has booths in which to rest the
+weary feet and crowns for living souls to wear.
+It is in this pathway that one learns the secret
+of the Christ life, for as he journeys on the way
+to nobility a voice is ever whispering in his
+ears: “Life consists in living unselfishly. Seek
+power only that you may have strength to serve
+those who are weak. Gain wealth only that you
+may be able to multiply your usefulness.” The<a href="#Page_66"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 66" id="Page_66"></span></a>
+road of a noble purpose leads to a throne, not
+one for the dead body, but a throne for the living
+soul. Here too is applause, not such as the
+Scythian dead received but such as was accorded
+the Roman conqueror. What a thrill follows
+noble endeavor! What a joy to come to old age
+having fought battles for those who were too
+weak to fight for themselves, and brought victory
+where otherwise his people would have
+suffered defeat and death!</p>
+
+<p>The world honors those who honor it. The
+ruler who has followed the pathway of a noble
+purpose is always honored by his people. Before
+him is spread the banquet of a nation’s reverence
+and homage. The man who, in getting money,
+has kept his hands clean from dishonesty, made
+just returns for all labor he required, and has
+kept his heart tender toward his fellow man, is
+honored by everyone. Men delight to fill his
+days with happiness, as honeysuckle loves to fill
+the air with sweetness. When the world discovers
+a woman whose desire for society is not to
+satisfy her vanity, or fill a shallow soul with
+selfish pleasures, but her desire is to scatter
+jewels of love and gems of inspiration to make
+rich and beautiful the lives of the common folk,
+it crowns her in the temple of its heart and calls
+her an angel sent of God.</p>
+
+<p>The days of autocratic power are ended, but<a href="#Page_67"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 67" id="Page_67"></span></a>
+the hands of the people are busy building
+thrones and weaving crowns of gold. So long as
+there is a love for nobility in the human heart
+men and women of nobility will be placed in
+power. Life consisteth not in the abundance of
+the <em>things</em> which a man possesseth but in following
+the pathway of a noble purpose.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_68"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 68" id="Page_68"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="X">X<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+Swords for Moral Battles</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">The</span> best weapons with which to fight moral
+battles have already been forged, sharpened, and
+polished, waiting to be unsheathed for conflict.
+There are some things that the ingenuity of man
+cannot improve. Man’s genius may perfect the
+locomotive to give swiftness to his feet; it may
+magnify his voice until his whispers are heard a
+thousand miles away; it may perfect machinery
+giving speed and accuracy to his busy fingers;
+it may print his speech and multiply his audience
+a millionfold; it may open new fields of
+endeavor, thus increasing the circle of his influence;
+it may do many things to break down
+barriers, and increase usefulness; but all the
+genius and skill of man can never devise nor
+contribute to any life a better or keener weapon
+with which to fight moral battles than belonged
+to us the eventful morning we left the old homeplace
+and mother’s presence, to begin, among
+strangers, our first conquest with the world.</p>
+
+<p>As a royal exile David was facing a grave
+crisis. The relentless enemy was pressing hard,<a href="#Page_69"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 69" id="Page_69"></span></a>
+and he possessed no means of defense. Leaving
+his hiding place, he hurried into the presence of
+Ahimelech and asked for a spear or a sword. As
+Ahimelech was a priest, and not a warrior, he
+was about to dismiss the young man empty-handed
+when, suddenly, he remembered.
+Wrapped in cloth, hanging behind the high
+priest’s robe, was an old sword, the very one that
+this young man had one time taken from the
+stiffening fingers of a dying giant, whom he had
+slain on the eventful morning of his first great
+conflict. Slowly and carefully the old man took
+the gleaming blade from its resting place, unwrapped
+it with reverent touch, explaining that
+it was all that he had to offer. David was instantly
+filled with delight. His eyes gleamed
+with fire, his heart and soul were thrilled with
+memories of that bright morning, when, filled
+with the ardor of youth, he had run down the
+mountainside to make conquest with the giant.
+This was that giant’s sword! The very one that
+he had wrenched from the stiffening fingers of
+the vanquished foe. Reaching forward he
+grasped it in his strong right hand saying:
+“There is none like that; give it me.” There
+may have been and probably were better and
+more beautiful swords in the world; keener
+steel may have been forged into swords for the
+generals and kings of other lands, but for David<a href="#Page_70"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 70" id="Page_70"></span></a>
+there was none other quite so efficient as the one
+with which he had gained his first victory.</p>
+
+<p>There are no newly discovered weapons with
+which to fight the moral battles of to-day. As
+David was aroused from the shrinking spirit of
+a fugitive to become a conquering king, by being
+given the weapon of his former battle, so each
+man must make requisition upon the past.
+Behold the weapons which hang in the sacred
+temple of our souls awaiting the grasp of a
+courageous hand.</p>
+
+<p>There is the sword of our childhood dreams.
+Let memory make you a little child again with
+brother and sister about the hearthstone on a
+winter’s evening, and let your heart glow with
+good cheer. Or let the sunshine of summer fall
+across your way until you are a child once more,
+running with bare feet through the winding ways
+of the meadow, chasing moths and butterflies, or
+wading the stream back of the old schoolhouse,
+your heart as carefree as the rippling waters.
+Let the dull monotonous hum and soothing
+influences of those happy days of wonderment
+come back to your heart until your eyes half
+close and you begin redreaming your youthful
+dreams. Blessed dreams, that cause the muscles
+of your face to relax, while laughter comes to the
+lips, and compels you to forget the blistering
+ways you have trodden since those sun-bright<a href="#Page_71"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 71" id="Page_71"></span></a>
+days. Dream your dreams of tenderness and
+confidence, for the tendency of the city is to
+harden the heart and dull the sympathies. Then
+will you have a worthy weapon with which to
+make battle. You need your old-time faith in
+God and confidence in man, your former optimistic
+view of life that gave brightness to every
+future fancy; your trustfulness in mother’s love
+and father’s counsel; the belief that divine power
+was working for your success because your heart
+was pure; let these memories and fond dreams
+come to you once again. You need them. Without
+the dreams of life the arm has little strength
+and the will but little power. Let them come
+back, bringing smiles for your face, and wreaths
+for your brow, and heaps of gold for your coffers.
+Youthful dreams must never fade from the
+gallery of memory if men would achieve. Lay
+hold upon them with all your power, knowing
+that while manhood’s wisdom is valuable, it is
+not half so effectual in fighting life’s battles as
+are the warm dreams of youth. With the sword
+of a worthy dream a man can defeat any adversary,
+scale any rampart, take any stronghold.
+Youth’s dreams were never intended to be lost.
+They are stored away in the most sacred part
+of your nature. Plead for their return, and finding
+them, exclaim with David, “There is none
+like that; give it me.”</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_72"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 72" id="Page_72"></span></a></p>
+
+<p>There is the sword of your old-time enthusiasm
+and resolution. There was a time when you
+believed yourself the possessor of a divine
+quality that would compel your brightest
+dream to come true. With age you are becoming
+more prosaic. You are not so confident and
+self-assertive. You excuse your shortcomings by
+asserting that you are becoming “more conservative,”
+forgetful that conservatism is very
+often only a refined name for dry rot or petrification.
+No man can win a fight with merely the
+weapons of conservatism. What you need is the
+old-time enthusiasm with which you announced
+your determination to leave home, the enthusiasm
+with which you packed the old trunk, and
+that fired your soul as you drove away from the
+old homestead, and made you determined to
+win fame and fortune at any cost. Time instead
+of deadening should kindle the fires of enthusiasm.
+You are living in the greatest hour of
+history. You are better equipped and environed
+and protected than the people of any generation.
+The quest was never so valuable; the rewards
+for noble endeavor never more abounding.
+There is no reason for any man giving up to indifference
+or despair. Take up your old-time
+enthusiasm until your heart burns with power
+that quickens the step and strengthens the arm.
+Lay hold of this conquering sword with which<a href="#Page_73"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 73" id="Page_73"></span></a>
+you have slain many a giant and cry with the
+spirit of a true conqueror, “There is none like
+that; give it me.”</p>
+
+<p>There is the sword of your childhood faith in
+God. As you have grown older you have
+acquainted yourself with many theories and
+tried many dogmas strange and fanciful, but
+none of them have had sufficient strength and
+keenness to win your battle. You have been
+compelled to throw them aside, and now, in the
+crisis, you are compelled to face the enemy of
+your soul without means of defense. Then take
+up the sword of your childhood faith in God that
+filled your younger years with beauty, that
+warmed your enthusiasm, and made you fight
+single-handed while an army trembled. Kneel
+once more as you knelt at your mother’s knee;
+look up with an open face toward your Father
+in heaven; cherish his words and keep his commandments;
+and from this hour no man can
+defeat you. In the outstretched hand of your
+Christian mother is the sword of your old-time
+faith in God. May you have the wisdom of
+David when he saw the sword in the hands of
+the priest and exclaim with all the earnestness
+of your repentant soul, “There is none like
+that; give it me.”</p>
+
+<p>There is no modern improvement in making
+swords for moral battles. Man’s progress in the<a href="#Page_74"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 74" id="Page_74"></span></a>
+sciences is not because he has improved but
+because he has employed the laws of nature,
+laws that have coexisted with the world. The
+telephone, telegraph, and incandescent are not
+the result of man inventing electricity. Science
+wins all her conquests by using old swords but
+perfect ones, because they come from the hand
+of God. We need no new religions, cults, or
+creeds. Being man-made they have no excellence
+of steel or temper. The emphasis must be
+placed, not upon the theory, but upon the moral
+laws which are just as vital to the spiritual life
+as natural laws are to the development of
+science. These laws are perfect. The Ten Commandments
+are incomparable. Not one of them
+is unnecessary but each one vital to triumphant
+living. Add to these the new commandment of
+Christ that we are to love the Lord our God with
+all our mind and heart and soul and strength
+and our neighbors as ourselves, and we have an
+arsenal with which to conquer all the powers of
+earth and hell.</p>
+
+<p>The world is weary following the ways of men.
+Righteousness alone exalteth a nation. “Back
+to God!” is the war-cry. “There is none like
+that; give it me.”</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_75"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 75" id="Page_75"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XI">XI<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+Spiced Wine</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">In</span> his Songs Solomon referred to a beautiful
+Oriental custom. The bride and bridegroom
+drank from the same cup, that they might show
+the assembled guests their willingness to henceforth
+share all the cups of life, whether sweet or
+bitter. To add to the joy of the wedding banquet
+the cup from which the wedded ones were to
+drink would be passed first to the others who
+were seated with them. As it passed from hand
+to hand each guest would drop into the ruby
+wine a gift of fragrant spice, expressing thus
+the earnest wish that every bitter cup of life
+might be brightened and sweetened with the
+spices of good friendship. From the first moment
+of wedded life their loved ones wished that they
+taste of nothing save joy and happiness. In his
+great poem Solomon somewhat alters the
+ancient custom and represents the bride performing
+this service of spicing the wine for the
+husband, as much as to say, “I would render
+unto thee only the sweetest, the purest, and the
+best that earth can hold.”</p>
+
+<p>One of the greatest needs of to-day is a spirit<a href="#Page_76"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 76" id="Page_76"></span></a>
+of willingness to spice the sour wines which
+others are daily compelled to drink. There are
+few greater services to render both God and man
+than to proffer the cup of spiced wine.</p>
+
+<p>The church as the Bride of Christ should offer
+to him no service that is not sweet and aromatic
+with the spices of sincerity and love. This is the
+only way the world will ever be taken for Jesus
+Christ. The church must offer something better,
+more pleasing, and more wholesome than the
+wines that this world has to offer. It is the
+tendency to give to God the drainings from life’s
+vintage. We often spend the week in pursuit of
+selfish pleasures, drinking the sweetest wines and
+giving them freely to our chosen companions,
+and then, in hours of worship, give to God the
+cheaper, sourer wines, making religious worship
+unwholesome, acrid, bitter, and nauseous.</p>
+
+<p>Unless we do away with our acrimonious
+methods and make our services to God more
+aromatic and pleasant, the church is going to
+lose all hold upon her boys and girls. As a child’s
+growing body requires sugar, so his awakened
+spiritual powers need that which is sweetened
+with the spices of gladness and whole-heartedness.</p>
+
+<p>This is the only way by which the church shall
+get and retain its grip on men of affairs. All
+week long these individuals have been tasting<a href="#Page_77"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 77" id="Page_77"></span></a>
+the acid and the bitterness of earthly struggle
+and competitive ambition. Sunday morning
+comes and they are tired, and nervous, and all
+worn out. What they need is a cup of spices,
+each bit of spice a gift of love. They need to
+have their minds taken away from the bitterness
+and acidity of life and given something that is
+fragrant and stimulating, something that will
+revive and strengthen them for future activity.
+This is the purpose of the church. It is to gather
+from all quarters of the earth all things that are
+good, wholesome, and attractive, and press
+them, as a gift of love, to the lips of every
+worshiper. It is to crowd each service with
+inspiring song, short helpful prayers, warm-worded
+greetings, and enthusiastic handshaking,
+until the silver chalice brims with gladness.
+Bring all your spices into the house of God and
+offer to Christ a pleasing gift. There is no telling
+how much good you can do. Look into the face
+of your Creator whenever you enter his temple
+and pray with an earnest heart: “O Lord, I
+would this day cause thee to drink spiced wine.”</p>
+
+<p>This should not only be the attitude of the
+church toward its Lord, but it should certainly
+be the spirit with which it daily faces the world.
+As we confront each individual we should be
+able to say: “I would cause thee, my brother,
+my sister, to drink spiced wine.” We should go<a href="#Page_78"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 78" id="Page_78"></span></a>
+through life so prepared with the spices of good
+cheer that the moment we found one with a cup
+of bitterness we could remove all its disagreeableness
+before it is pressed to their parched
+lips. We should carry spices for their cups, and
+not pepper for the eyes, or salt with which to
+rub the sores of our enemies. Spices so sweeten
+the cup that men forget their hatred and find
+themselves glad that we are here.</p>
+
+<p>Give them the spices of a good disposition.
+Our dispositions are not unalterable gifts thrust
+upon us at birth, but are largely a matter of
+cultivation. If we associate with that which is
+sour and crabbed, our dispositions will, of necessity,
+assume the same nature. If we live a life of
+goodness, we will most naturally have a sweet
+disposition. The difference between peaches
+and pickles is far more than a matter of spelling.
+Peaches are not pickles, because they absorb the
+sunlight and the sweetness of the soil, until even
+their tartness is delicious to the taste. Pickles
+are not peaches because they absorb only those
+things which suggest and harmonize with salt
+and vinegar. We never think of pickles without
+thinking about vinegar. Their difference is in
+the choice of elements used in building tissues.
+The same thing is true with us. We make our
+dispositions, and because we do, we should be
+lovers of the aromatic spices with which God<a href="#Page_79"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 79" id="Page_79"></span></a>
+has crowded the world. O that those who profess
+to love God would cease shaking pepper into
+others’ lives, and begin to put sweet spices of a
+good disposition into cups already too bitter
+with the gall of sorrow and disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>Give them the spices of a cheerful conversation.
+No good comes from burning the mind
+of the world with the acid of criticism, or distressing
+their lacerated hearts with the story of
+our personal discomforts. Give spices. Instead
+of telling how the rheumatism made the joints
+creak on their hinges, tell the story of how once
+you were able to leap over the fences and how
+you swung from the topmost branch of the old
+apple tree. Instead of telling about the horrors
+of insomnia, and how little you slept that past
+week, and how miserably the morning hours
+wore away, tell about the red bird that sang
+under your window and awakened a thousand
+memories of your childhood, tell how you
+noticed the fresh air of the morning awakened
+symphonies among the dew-laden leaves. It
+is so much nicer to be a candle that gives light
+than a smoky chimney that belches soot and
+cinders. The world always appreciates its
+bearers of good news. Happy conversation is
+within the reach of every one. No matter how
+blind we may be to the blessings of to-day,
+memory holds a box of spices within easy reach,<a href="#Page_80"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 80" id="Page_80"></span></a>
+and we can fill our words with a sweetness that
+will cast an undying fragrance.</p>
+
+<p>It is not difficult to be cheerful when we
+remember that we meet only two classes of
+people, no matter how far we travel, or how long
+we live. The one class consists of those who are
+making failure of life. Each word we speak
+brings to them either the bitterness of wormwood
+or the good cheer of wild honey. The opportunity
+to give encouragement to the downcast
+comes every day. Tired, worn, and jaded,
+they meet us upon every street corner and press
+against us at every assembly. O that they might
+rejoice as they taste the spices we are placing in
+their wine! The other class of people whom we
+are meeting are those who are making success of
+life, and who are very often the most neglected.
+Because they receive worldly honor we think
+them extremely happy, not recognizing their
+loneliness. The world never hesitates to press
+its sponge of vinegar and gall to the lips of those
+who are serving it.</p>
+
+<p>Several years ago there was a large gathering
+in Calvary Church, New York City, to pay
+tribute to Dr. Edward Washburn. Phillips
+Brooks, Bishop Potter, and many other men of
+distinction met in that magnificent service and
+offered words of praise to the goodness, courage,
+clear thinking, untainted love and unselfish devotion<a href="#Page_81"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 81" id="Page_81"></span></a>
+of that mighty man. After all had ended
+their words of praise a little woman, dressed in
+black, who had been the companion of Dr.
+Washburn for so many years of married life,
+slowly arose to address the audience. Amid an
+intense silence she repeated over and over again
+these words: “O, if you men loved Edward so,
+why did you never tell him?” What a revelation
+of heart-hunger! Long years of bitterness when
+all might have been relieved with just a little
+spice, that is readily found and easily bestowed.</p>
+
+<p>Bring on the spices! Let us be more affectionate
+one toward another. The eldest son of a
+large family was kneeling at his mother’s deathbed
+saying, “You have been such a good
+mother.” The dying woman opened her eyes
+and faintly whispered, “You never said so before,
+John, you never said that before.” Let
+this be our motto as we meet all men: “I would
+cause you to drink spiced wine.”</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_82"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 82" id="Page_82"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XII">XII<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+The Fever of Health</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">One</span> of man’s richest possessions is the feeling
+of restlessness and discontent that ever pushes
+onward seeking something new. It is the secret
+of discovery. Beholding the sunset, like a
+thousand camp fires flashing their beams upon
+the crimson and purple curtained tents of ever-encamping
+angels, man determined to enter into
+and share their quiet place of rest and luxury.
+Hastening forward, he easily found the hills that
+yester-night formed the mystic camping ground,
+but nowhere would a torn leaf or trampled
+grass-blade betray a single footprint; while,
+looking farther westward than he had traveled,
+he saw the same crimson-and-purple tents
+stretched upon other hilltops bathed with sunset’s
+golden light. Month followed month while
+man continued journeying westward in fruitless
+quest for peace, but in his effort to reach the
+cherished goal he discovered new lakes and
+rivers, hills and valleys, plains and forests, until
+a mighty continent lay ready for his children’s
+children to build cities rivaling in power and<a href="#Page_83"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 83" id="Page_83"></span></a>
+splendor the mystic camps of sunset’s unseen
+hosts.</p>
+
+<p>Restlessness and dissatisfaction are the secret
+of invention. Satisfied with their condition,
+China, India, and Africa yield no inventions.
+Their people carry water in flasks of skin, travel
+upon weary-footed beasts of burden, and bequeath
+their children nothing but tradition.
+Such once was all the world until some individuals
+of courage and determination caught the
+fever of health. Dissatisfied and restless, man
+became weary of carrying water and would not
+rest until he had perfected the Holly Engine that
+presses a cup of cool water to every thirsty lip
+within the city. Tired of slow travel, he compelled
+the locomotive to give fleetness to his
+feet, and the telephone to give rapid transit to
+his voice. Restless because the singer’s voice
+must fade in silence, man built the phonograph
+to give the human voice, the frailest of all man’s
+possessions, everlasting life. Dissatisfaction
+with things as they are gives invention her rich
+achievements.</p>
+
+<p>Art follows only in the footsteps of restlessness.
+Every painting and tapestry hanging on
+palace wall, every anthem that thrills the
+templed throngs, and every melody that wafts its
+sweet cadence upon the trembling, vibrant air,
+exists because some sensitive soul refused to<a href="#Page_84"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 84" id="Page_84"></span></a>
+know contentment until he had given perfect
+expression to the beauty that dwelt within his
+soul.</p>
+
+<p>Only through the contagion of the divine
+fever can there be any reform. It was only when
+the restless soul of John Howard began to express
+its contempt for the foul floors and vitiated
+air of England’s jails and aroused the slumbering
+conscience of an indifferent people that the cruel
+prison systems of the world were changed. Reform
+in England’s colonial policy that made
+possible the unity of Canada and the founding
+of our own government came only when men
+began to chafe and grow restless under unjust
+treatment, and finally found expression in the
+burning, blazing, nervous eloquence of Patrick
+Henry, “Give me liberty, or give me death!”</p>
+
+<p>Because men were satisfied with things as
+they were, the city slums became deeper, fouler
+depths of misery entombing thousands of human
+beings in inexcusable death-traps, robbing
+parents of hope and childhood of its lawful inheritance
+of health and goodness. These things
+continued until one poor lad grew divinely restless.
+A little immigrant boy of poetic temperament
+and lofty aspirations, by the name of
+Jacob Riis, cried out in protest against the
+injustice of foul air and darkened homes. Restless
+himself, he made the city restless, until New<a href="#Page_85"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 85" id="Page_85"></span></a>
+York transformed her tenements, purified her
+slums, and reformed her government until she
+became one of the cleanest cities of the world—in
+many ways a worthy example for the cities
+of the Old World to follow. The restlessness of
+Livingstone redeemed Africa. The restlessness
+of Morris saved China. The restlessness of
+Thoburn is working miracles in India. When
+men found it impossible to sit at ease while their
+brothers were in chains slavery disappeared.
+Because men became weary with drunkenness
+and tired listening to the pathetic pleading of
+drunkards’ wives and children, an aroused nation
+closed the open saloons and placed a ban
+upon the sale of alcoholic drink. Men are now
+becoming tired of war. They believe that the
+world has drunk its fill of human blood. The
+hour for world-wide disarmament has come, and
+rulers must be made to think before sacrificing
+their people’s lives.</p>
+
+<p>Here also we find the secret of mental development.
+So long as the human mind is satisfied
+with tradition it cannot grow; but let it once
+become uneasy under the deadening power of
+superstition, its very restlessness will make the
+mountains unlock their secrets, the plants yield
+tribute of health-creating medicines, the clouds
+unbosom their mystery, and even the starlight
+becomes a pencil of gold to write upon the tablet<a href="#Page_86"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 86" id="Page_86"></span></a>
+of the sky the marvelous story of man’s growing
+intellectual power.</p>
+
+<p>No one of God’s gifts is to be valued more
+than this feeling of unrest that he inspires within
+the heart, making us dissatisfied with ourselves
+and our surroundings, and forcing us forward to
+become skillful in discovery, art, invention, reform,
+and intellectuality.</p>
+
+<p>But the beneficent influence of health’s fever
+does not end here, for it is also the secret of
+spiritual development. We have all experienced
+these seasons of holy manifestation. Our friends
+said that we had the fidgets; the physician
+diagnosed our case as one of nervousness; we
+insisted that we had the blues; but all were
+wrong. The restlessness was a sign of health.
+We were not satisfied with ourselves but longed
+for nobility. The dust-made body was refusing
+to grovel in the dust. The spiritual life was beginning
+to assert itself through these tissues of
+flesh. The chrysalis had lost its desire to crawl
+along the ground, for new life within claimed its
+right to rise upon joyous wing and cleave the
+sunlit air. It was not a thing to be despised, to
+mar and gnaw the budding leaf, but something
+to be admired and loved of man, something
+sylphlike to sip from chalices of gold and silver,
+porphyry and lapis-lazuli. The old man of sin
+was dying, and through the power of Christ a<a href="#Page_87"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 87" id="Page_87"></span></a>
+new man was coming into life; from now on he
+can never be satisfied with things as they were.</p>
+
+<p>One of the hopes of the world’s salvation is the
+fact that sin never satisfies the soul. Its promises
+are never fulfilled. Its obligations are never met
+at maturity. Men become restless in their sin,
+and through their restlessness are being led to
+God. Here alone can satisfaction be found, for
+only Christ supplies the soul with what it needs
+for the journey set before it. He offers guidance,
+saying, “I am the way.” Following him no soul
+has ever been lost amid the bewildering maze of
+sin. He offers sustaining power saying, “I am
+the bread of life” and “I am the water of life.”
+The dusty ashes of sin no longer choke, but for
+the hunger there is life-giving bread, and for the
+parched lip there is water. He gives illumination,
+saying, “I am the light,” and the terrors of
+darkness and the dangers of the night flee away.
+He offers an open way, saying, “I am the door,”
+and through him one passes out of the cramped
+prison house of past sins into untrammeled, unmeasured
+freedom. He offers immortality, saying,
+“I am the resurrection and the life: he that
+believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall
+he live.” The deadening power of sin loses its
+hold, and one tastes the unspeakable joy of
+living a life that is life indeed.</p>
+
+<p>Then be not confounded by the feeling of<a href="#Page_88"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 88" id="Page_88"></span></a>
+restlessness that ever creeps upon the healthy
+soul. What a tragedy our lives would be had we
+been satisfied with our first achievements! How
+terribly pathetic it is to become satisfied with
+ourselves now, while we are so far short of what
+we might be, and so lamentably short of what
+God meant our lives to be! Curb not the spirit
+of restlessness as though it were a fever of death.
+It is health’s fever. It is the call of the soul for
+its Creator who longs to lead us into better
+things.</p>
+
+<p>To-morrow will be a beautiful day because
+to-day is so restless.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_89"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 89" id="Page_89"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XIII">XIII<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+The Wisdom of the Unlearned</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">The</span> pathway of true brotherly love is
+bordered with deformed social conditions which
+must be faced and remedied. Entering the
+temple at the hour of prayer, Peter and John
+had their pious meditations interrupted by the
+appealing cry of a crippled beggar, who was
+crouching helplessly at the temple door. His
+haggard face, his wistful eye, his bony, outstretched
+hand, pleaded so passionately that the
+singing of the Levites was drowned and the
+temple call to prayer unheeded. The eyes of
+Peter and the beggar met, and Christlike
+spirituality stood face to face with the practical
+aspect of the world’s need. Instantly the great-hearted,
+impetuous Peter took notice of the
+helpless man, whose wan face began to brighten
+with hope. Taking him by the right hand, Peter
+said: “Silver and gold have I none. I cannot
+meet the requirements that you ask, knowing
+that it is not money that you need, so much as
+health and strength, with which to earn a livelihood
+for yourself and for your loved ones. Silver<a href="#Page_90"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 90" id="Page_90"></span></a>
+and gold have I none; but such as I have, give
+I thee. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth
+rise up and walk.” The cripple did not have
+time to waver, nor to debate, for the warm
+handclasp and the strong arm of the enthusiastic
+servant of Christ was lifting him to his
+feet and teaching him how to leap, and run, and
+sing the praises of God. Peter and John felt
+that they could not enter the temple to pray
+until they had proven their right to worship by
+practically meeting whatever part of the world-wide
+social needs chanced, at that moment, to
+confront them.</p>
+
+<p>But their benevolence was misinterpreted by
+those who should have been the most appreciative.
+Overzealous religionists, who usually
+mistake the form for the spirit of worship, had
+the two benefactors arrested, accused of violating
+their law concerning the observance of the
+Sabbath day. After a night spent upon the
+cold, damp stones of the inner prison, the two
+disciples were brought before the learned magistrate
+to explain their conduct.</p>
+
+<p>There is nothing more interesting than these
+unfriendly scholarly investigations of religious
+phenomena, conducted for the purpose of securing
+a rational psychological explanation. The
+high priests, the scribes, the rulers of city and
+province were seated in state, when the two<a href="#Page_91"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 91" id="Page_91"></span></a>
+humble followers of the Social Christ, with
+common garb, and net-calloused hands, stood at
+the judgment bar and heard the question: “By
+what power have ye done this?” A more modern
+phraseology of the question would be, “State to
+the Court what is the psychological explanation
+of this purported miracle?”</p>
+
+<p>It was a critical moment to these judges, for
+scholarship, with much ado, was studying and
+analyzing ignorance. But the Peter of Pentecost
+was not to be dismayed. He knew that the
+service of Christ is not formal but practical, and
+that his conduct in curing a lame beggar was
+more important to God than the observing of a
+thousand man-made forms and ceremonies. He
+knew from his former experience that ignorance
+need have no fear of the scoffer’s sneer, or the
+scholar’s questioning, when once the heart has
+been fully consecrated to the service of God.
+With confidence they faced the inquirers saying,
+frankly: “The power is not ours. This miracle
+was performed through the power of Christ,
+which you, in your learning, threw aside, and
+which we, in the simplicity of our untutored
+hearts, have accepted as the gift of God.” The
+power of Pentecost was with the preacher again,
+and the judges were filled with fear and wonderment.
+Against their most earnest desires they
+liberated the men, wondering why they, as<a href="#Page_92"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 92" id="Page_92"></span></a>
+learned men, should be influenced by men of
+such untrained intellects.</p>
+
+<p>While Christianity has always waged warfare
+against ignorance in all forms, and has been the
+leader in founding schools and colleges, the fact
+remains that many of our greatest achievements
+have been wrought by untrained men. God
+often takes the weak things of this world to
+confound the mighty.</p>
+
+<p>When an unorganized and badly scattered
+people needed a wise ruler, God passed by the
+palace doors and over the seats of learning that,
+in the open fields, he might crown David, a
+shepherd lad. When Jerusalem was a ruined
+city, overgrown with weed and briar, God
+ignored commanding generals and ruling monarchs,
+to honor Nehemiah, whose conquering
+courage rebuilt the city. When mad with power
+and wild excesses of sin, a mighty nation needed
+restraint, God stepped over the royal houses as
+though they were playthings upon the nursery
+floor, and lifted Daniel, an exile, to become the
+condemning conscience for them who had slain
+their consciences, and to become a radiant hope
+for those who were enslaved and had lost all
+courage. When the time had fully come for the
+kingdom of Christ to be preached to the
+cultured and aristocratic, he chose these two
+men of the fisher-craft, who, though ignorant<a href="#Page_93"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 93" id="Page_93"></span></a>
+and unlearned, made the scholars and statesmen
+dumb with wonderment, while the crowned
+power of the age was humiliated, unable to cope
+successfully against the growing faith.</p>
+
+<p>Christianity, while not encouraging ignorance,
+recognizes what the world often overlooks, that
+learning, in itself, has woeful limitations. When
+rightly employed, mental training multiplies
+one’s powers and talents, as the circling moon
+gives strength and swiftness to the rising tides;
+but misapplied book-learning has little value. In
+the crises of life the general information gleaned
+from books counts for but very little. The
+knowledge that water, when reduced in temperature
+to thirty degrees or less, freezes, so that a
+dangerous river is changed into a solid highway
+over which one can walk in safety, is of small
+value to a man who is drowning in the summer
+time, and very few drowning men would call for
+a thermometer to take the temperature of the
+water in which they were sinking. Standing
+beneath a falling wall, no man is going to begin
+to calculate the specific gravity of the falling
+elements or estimate the force of impact upon
+his head. All learning is good, and nothing
+in the line of information should be ignored,
+for, along the more or less narrow line of its
+own application, each truth is of inestimable
+value. Each added truth that one learns pulls<a href="#Page_94"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 94" id="Page_94"></span></a>
+up the tent stakes of the horizon and widens the
+world just so much, but no man can save himself
+with learning alone. Success depends, not
+upon scholarship, but upon a spotless love for
+God and a boundless love for man. Herein is
+the wisdom of life, and the weakest man or
+woman may possess it. All men may not become
+learned, but all men may become great
+and enthusiastic lovers of their fellow man. The
+little child that bends its arms in fervent hugs
+to show the measure of its affection; the struggling
+youth that stops to help a wounded companion;
+the widow, fighting against poverty in
+the tenement; the old man, patiently looking
+for the coming day—all these may possess the
+secret of royal living.</p>
+
+<p>The world will be saved, not by the scholar,
+as a scholar, but by the loving heart; not by
+platitude, but by kindly deeds. Goodness is
+such an easy thing to acquire, that it is within
+the reach of all. A little London newsboy was
+seen to daily follow an unknown man for many
+blocks. When asked by an observer why he did
+so he responded, “When he buys a paper from
+me, he always smiles, and calls me his boy. He
+is the only one who ever called me that, and I
+just love to see him.” Here was a life brightened
+and perhaps redeemed because a busy man of
+wealth took time to say what any one of us is<a href="#Page_95"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 95" id="Page_95"></span></a>
+able to say each day. When King Humbert
+would have lost his nation he saved it, not by
+scholarly exhortations or startling state papers,
+but by visiting the hospitals of Naples and
+ministering with genuine affection a plague-smitten
+people. It was a task of love that the
+weakest person might be able to perform, but it
+saved a nation for a king.</p>
+
+<p>The world will be saved. Righteousness shall
+ultimately prevail. The kingdoms of this world
+shall become the kingdom of our Christ. There
+are no failures in God’s mighty plans. We may
+vary in our beliefs, and differ greatly as to the
+process by which he shall accomplish his wise
+designs, but this is true: when this world is
+brought ultimately to the feet of Christ, it will
+have been accomplished not by prayer alone but
+by work and prayer, not by the scholar as a
+scholar but by the men, learned or unlearned,
+who have discovered the compelling and transforming
+power of a boundless, undying love.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_96"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 96" id="Page_96"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XIV">XIV<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+The Strength of Weakness</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">An</span> old man was once opening the treasury of
+his experience to enrich the young people of
+Corinth. Youth ever needs such a benefactor,
+for life’s most difficult problem is to definitely
+determine upon which element or elements of
+life the emphasis should be placed. Like a river,
+life has so many contributing streams of large
+volume that it is difficult to decide unto which
+one we are most indebted for our power. There
+is only one way to ascertain this fact, and that
+is to trace the current of life-power to its source
+and stand, with reverent feet, at its utmost
+gurgling spring. But this task is hard and is
+fraught with danger. What youth, standing at
+the joining of the currents, can tell to a certainty
+which is the real current and which the contributing
+stream of influence? Among the most
+pathetic incidents of history are those portraying
+some of our richest and most favored sons of
+genius mistaking a contributing element of life
+for life itself and spending their days within the
+narrow winding ways of mediocrity. Youth
+needs the open treasury of the past, therefore<a href="#Page_97"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 97" id="Page_97"></span></a>
+it is a rare privilege to have Paul thus open the
+treasure chest of his varied and triumphant experiences
+and tell us what is the secret source
+of life’s richest endowment. Looking over a life
+of many years, covering an intense and diversified
+experience, enriched with mental and
+spiritual training, he declared to the young
+people of Corinth that the source of personal
+power is weakness.</p>
+
+<p>That is the last place in the world that we
+would naturally look for strength, for we have
+always been taught that weakness is the absence
+of strength. To be enduring we believed that
+we should possess the rigidity and firmness of the
+rocks, forgetful that long after the red stone
+walls of Kenilworth have tottered into complete
+ruin the fragile ivy, planted by unknown
+hands, will still live to cover the rough, broken
+heap of weather-beaten stones with the graceful
+folds of its swaying branches. We have believed
+that stability depended upon rigid strength, not
+realizing that, in nature, the strong are the most
+fragile, while the weak are the most enduring.</p>
+
+<p>The source of triumphant living is not the
+adamantine will that refuses to bend or budge,
+but is the will that yields itself to higher power.
+Only when one finds that a feeling of weakness is
+creeping over him, and realizes that, in his own
+strength alone, he is inadequate for the task,<a href="#Page_98"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 98" id="Page_98"></span></a>
+does he possess true conquering power. One of
+the best hours of a man’s life is when, through
+sickness, toil, or persecution, he feels his physical
+powers giving way, and his soul rises to claim
+the occasion for God and his humanity. Knowing
+that while he himself is weak, the needed
+power is within easy reach, a man is strong. In
+such a crisis, to become self-confident is to be
+like the hunted partridge which, seeking escape,
+confidently enters the trap set for his destruction.
+Strength comes when, overwhelmed with
+a sense of unutterable weakness, one flings himself
+at the feet of Christ, and prays as did the
+sinking disciple, “Lord, save me.”</p>
+
+<p>How very true this is in the hours of our
+severe temptation! No man ever sought refuge
+from temptation in self-confidence who, in the
+strain of battle, did not find his fortress crumbling
+into dust, while he himself suffered humiliating
+defeat. Simon Peter learned this truth.
+Strong and boastful in his self-assertiveness, he
+stood amid the gathering shadows of the world’s
+darkest and most tragic night, and smiled as one
+who gladly greets the dawning of his wedding day.
+He was confident, beyond question, that he
+was equal to any emergency that might arise.
+It was easy for him to boast and proclaim loudly
+what he would do. Beholding the same fast-deepening
+shadows, Christ fell to his knees in<a href="#Page_99"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 99" id="Page_99"></span></a>
+prayer, and with broken voice and heavy, blood-stained
+sweat, pleaded for his Father to remove
+this cup of suffering. Christ, the everlasting
+Conqueror, prays for escape from trial, while
+Peter, filled with self-assurance, bids the coming
+of the worst with defiant spirit, saying, “Though
+all men should forsake the Master, yet will not
+I.” He boasted bravely that he was ready to die
+for Christ. There was a marked contrast between
+the ways these two met the same struggle,
+but the whole world knows the outcome. In the
+presence of trial Peter’s strength was scattered
+like heaps of withered autumn leaves. When he
+was strong then was he weak. Without the
+passing of the cup Christ walked forth strong
+enough to win a world from sin, while Peter sank
+in shame. But when, a few hours later, we find
+the defeated disciple, all alone, in midnight
+darkness, weeping like a little child over his
+weakness, we rejoice, for we know now that
+Pentecost has found its preacher, and the world
+has found a mighty champion for God.</p>
+
+<p>Temptation is a terrible thing. It is a band of
+armed brigands, storming the citadel of the soul
+to carry away everything that is of value. To
+yield is to have the soul ransacked and burned
+as though by fire. To face it confidently in one’s
+own strength is gravest folly. There is only one
+possibility of victory. In that hour of peril,<a href="#Page_100"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 100" id="Page_100"></span></a>
+when eternal destinies are at stake, let one feel
+his own weakness, and fall helplessly at the feet
+of Christ, and call with all the earnestness and
+pathos of his frightened soul, “Lord, save, or I
+perish!” and victory shall fill his heart with joy
+and crown his brow with the light of heaven.</p>
+
+<p>This truth is applicable to all our sorrows.
+There have been hours when we thought best to
+meet our sorrows and disappointments with the
+spirit of a stoic. With clinched fists, tight-pressed
+lips, and dry eyes, we stood, proud of
+our strength, defying sorrow by bidding it to do
+its worst. We insisted that we were not weak
+like others, and that we would boldly bear our
+own burdens. But the end was defeat and uncontrollable
+grief. The burden was so much
+heavier and the grief was so much more bitter
+than we had ever expected, that we were crushed
+and overcome. Meanwhile at our side stood one
+frail and weak, whose bloodshot eyes spoke of
+countless nights of grief and anxiety, but whose
+calm face and steady voice assured us that she
+had gained a wonderful victory, and, in spite of
+tempest, had inner calm and rest. How came
+the victory to the frail? Because she was frail
+and knew that she was frail. As headed wheat
+saves its life by bowing passively to the stroking
+of the violent winds, so she bowed low at the
+touch of sorrow. She yielded herself to the will<a href="#Page_101"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 101" id="Page_101"></span></a>
+of God. As Mary and Martha, in their hour of
+sorrow and puzzling questions, forgot everything
+and fell weeping at the feet of their Lord, so this
+woman poured out her prayer of utter helplessness
+to God, saying, “Save, Lord, or I perish,”
+and in her weakness she became strong. The
+strength that is needed to meet sorrow comes,
+not from self-control, but abandonment to God;
+not from dry eyes, but from tears.</p>
+
+<p>How true this is of our ministries to our
+brother man! It is not an easy matter for one to
+enter the Holy of holies of another’s grief and
+sorrow, and minister unto them as a true high
+priest. Before the growing work of the church,
+as it is beginning to live up to its conceptions of
+Christian social service, many of our strongest
+Christians are becoming faint of heart; in its
+growing work of evangelism they become paralyzed
+with fright; because they cannot see how
+they can approach and minister to those whom
+they do not know. They tremble, not knowing
+that their very weakness is their source of
+strength. Rash boldness and overconfidence are
+not part of the true Christian’s equipment.
+With such a spirit no one should dare to enter
+the sacred inclosure of another’s grief. It is only
+when one refuses to trust in human strength or
+wisdom, and, possessed of a spirit of humility,
+goes forward in the name of Christ, that he can<a href="#Page_102"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 102" id="Page_102"></span></a>
+work successfully for God. You may feel called
+upon to do works of charity. If so, go forth in
+weakness. Instead of polished speech upon the
+lip, let there be a teardrop in the eye. The
+hungry soul will understand and rejoice that you
+have come. In the hour of some one’s sorrow,
+you may be able to give only a tender, silent
+handclasp; but be not dismayed. The mourning
+one will fully understand and thank God that
+he sent you unto him. You may be sent to lead
+some sinful soul to Christ. In weakness your
+words may fail, leaving you nothing to offer
+save a look of love. That is enough. Each sinful
+one will understand, and through the light of
+your loving look will find a pathway back to
+God. Only when we are weak are we strong in
+the service of Christ.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_103"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 103" id="Page_103"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XV">XV<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+Crumbling Palaces</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">The</span> crumbling of our palaces does not necessarily
+mean loss, especially if they be the grotesque
+ones built in untutored childhood, or
+those planned in moments of unguarded enthusiasm,
+or given form by impractical impulse, or
+intended for selfish or sinful pleasure. We have
+never tried to live in the blockhouses built upon
+the nursery floor, neither do we mold our lives
+according to childhood fancies. There can be no
+progress without the compelling power of a well-guided
+enthusiasm, but overwrought enthusiasm
+is an uncontrollable power bringing moral,
+physical, and financial disaster. The ability to
+yield promptly to righteous impulse is akin to
+genius, but the impulses of an untrained soul are
+the frenzied switchmen who ditch and wreck the
+train that should have the right of way. When
+self-interest means the developing of brain and
+talents to establish a worthy character and
+beneficent influence, making one a constructive
+force in the community, it is not to be despised;
+but when self-interest becomes selfishness, the
+building of a fortified castle in which one lives<a href="#Page_104"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 104" id="Page_104"></span></a>
+at the expense of others, then is the soul smitten
+with leprosy, and the home becomes a pest-house,
+not a palace. A place of sin is never a
+shelter, but a death-trap, its elegance of architecture
+and furnishings making it all the more
+dangerous. There are many palaces unfit for
+habitation. To permit them to decay and
+crumble into nothingness is greatest gain, for to
+live unworthily is not to live at all.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand there is a neglect that
+means a helpless, hopeless poverty from which
+no influence or friendship can bring deliverance.
+When once these palaces are permitted to
+crumble we become homeless outcasts, begging
+from a world that begrudges us its crumbs.
+Therefore one must consider, not only the beginning,
+but the upkeep of life.</p>
+
+<p>There is the palace of Character that needs
+guarding. The beginning of the Christian life is
+only “the beginning.” Here is the peril of our
+present and very popular conception of church
+membership. A man often feels that all that is
+necessary for his soul’s salvation is to go through
+the soulless process of uniting with some religious
+organization, and it matters not which one
+he may chance to choose. “Joining the church”
+is looked upon as taking out a spiritual life insurance,
+without any thought of paying premiums
+through the passing years. Having his<a href="#Page_105"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 105" id="Page_105"></span></a>
+name duly inscribed upon the records of some
+church gives a man confidence with which to
+face death, and the coming judgment, not realizing
+that the Church Record will perish in the
+flames of the last day; and that men are judged
+by comparing the records which God has kept
+with the record that each man writes upon the
+pages of his own body, mind, and soul. Preachers
+have bigger business at the Judgment than
+carrying their Church Records and appearing as
+counsel for the members of their flocks. They
+must appear at the Judgment and answer for
+themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Christian living is righteous living, being
+right with God and right with man, in all the
+dealings of daily life. It is not, like vaccination,
+completed in one short operation, but, like
+breathing, an activity that includes every second
+of one’s earthly existence. It is not moving into
+a furnished apartment which you can secure by
+making certain payments, but the building of
+the palace of Character. Stone by stone, the
+great structure is erected, its foundation resting
+upon the solid rock, its walls built with God’s
+plumb line, its turrets and battlements lifted
+high to receive the blessings of the sky. It is not
+built in a day, but requires the unceasing toil of
+all our days, else it will crumble into hopeless
+ruin.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_106"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 106" id="Page_106"></span></a></p>
+
+<p>Character is not firmly established this side
+the grave. There are no character insurance societies.
+Right living on the part of youth may
+soon give one a reputation of worth, but after
+many years of faithful living have resulted in a
+palace, admired of men, one misdeed may become
+a conflagration that will reduce it to ashes;
+one single misspent day may cause the strongest
+palace to crumble and decay. The ruins of
+Kenilworth are beautiful because covered with
+English ivy; for the ruined walls of Character
+there is no ivy of sympathy to beautify, but the
+bleak and barren wreckage stands in ghastly
+hideousness to proclaim to all the world the
+story of the misspent day. Both youth and age
+alike must guard the palace of Character against
+decay.</p>
+
+<p>There is the palace of Benevolence that needs
+guarding. In childhood we learned the difference
+between the cold hovel of Selfishness and the
+great palace of Benevolence, with its windows
+ablaze with light to guide our footsteps, and its
+hearthstone aglow with welcoming warmth.
+How we feared and shunned the selfish soul, not
+for the lack of gifts, but because, with the
+clear vision of childhood, we beheld the deformity
+of his crabbed soul! How we loved the
+dweller of the palace, not for his gifts, but for
+the beauty of his smile, the soft light of friendship<a href="#Page_107"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 107" id="Page_107"></span></a>
+in his eyes, the joy-creating atmosphere in
+which he moved. Then and there we decided
+to mold our lives after the plans of that good
+man, and be benevolent individuals; not spendthrifts,
+but possessed of rich, red blood, and
+sympathetic hearts ever open to the beauties
+and needs of life. But we soon learn that the
+palace of Benevolence cannot be built with one
+deed of benevolence, no matter how large and
+generous it may be. The gift of some great
+public institution, however worthy and serviceable
+to the people, is not enough to mark a man
+as one who dwells in the palace of Benevolence.
+That coveted abode is built, not by gift or gifts,
+but by the generous spirit with which we daily
+and hourly meet the world. Benevolence is not
+a gift, nor series of gifts, but the wholesome,
+generous spirit which we manifest toward men.
+With such a spirit one builds a beautiful palace
+in which to dwell, but one that is very easily
+marred and destroyed. One selfish desire, once
+hardening the heart against another’s need, one
+greedy, grasping longing or desire, and the
+palace beautiful crumbles into dust; and they
+who once rejoiced at our coming will turn away
+with the contempt with which all men greet
+unworthiness.</p>
+
+<p>There also is the palace of Prayer. No earthly
+dwelling is so beautiful as that which one builds<a href="#Page_108"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 108" id="Page_108"></span></a>
+for his soul through communion with God.
+Always situated upon the lofty heights, above
+the lowlands of sin and dusty ways of worldliness,
+it lifts its towers and pinnacles into a cloudless
+sky. The view is clear and unobstructed, so
+that one sees the affairs of life in their true relations
+to the great world of which they are a part.
+The struggles of their fellow men are in clear
+sight and therefore observed with sympathetic,
+understanding heart. The sky is close, and
+when the sun is set the stars peer through the
+shadowy canopy, and smile. The atmosphere is
+fresh and pure, made fragrant with the breath of
+heaven, and he who breathes it feels a power
+divine. Nothing is more beautiful than the
+palace of Prayer.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, the palace may crumble and
+become a hopeless heap of dust. Where once
+stood a vision of spirituality one can see nothing
+but that which is of the earth earthy. A hidden
+sin within the heart, that slyly steals away one’s
+love for God; a subtle spirit of worldliness, that
+deadens the soul until it ceases to respond to
+things divine; a gnawing doubt that, like the
+white ants of India, honeycomb the timbers of
+the bravest, strongest souls—all these cause the
+crumbling of the palace.</p>
+
+<p>The palaces of the soul, however well established,
+require a watchful eye and careful guarding.<a href="#Page_109"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 109" id="Page_109"></span></a>
+The powers of evil are destroying elements
+that beat and pound upon the shelters of the
+soul with destructive fury. But even then, a
+well-built palace need not crumble. He who has
+the Carpenter of Nazareth as his daily Companion
+may build for eternity. Keeping the
+sayings of the Master means that the house is
+firmly fixed upon a strong foundation and that
+all its timbers are strongly knit together; so that
+when the floods come and the winds blow and
+beat upon it; when a legion of devils encamp
+about and lay siege upon the soul; when fires
+sweep, and earthquakes work their devastation
+to this planet, these palaces, not made with
+hands, and not constructed from earthly material,
+the palaces of Character, Benevolence,
+and Communion with God, shall not be moved.
+They shall shelter us here and be eternal in the
+heavens.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_110"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 110" id="Page_110"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XVI">XVI<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+The Echo of Life’s Unsung Songs</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">We</span> are familiar with the echo of life’s unfinished
+songs. The unfinished songs of confidence,
+sung by the martyrs as they stood upon
+the yellow sands of the Coliseum, looking upward
+beyond the soft blue of the Italian sky to
+heights hitherto unseen, have never ceased to
+vibrate through the centuries. The unfinished
+songs of sacrifice and patriotism which were sung
+by our soldiers and sailors who perished in the
+world-wide war are still echoing in the music of
+every wave that laves the shores of every sea.
+We are all familiar with the lingering music of
+life’s unfinished songs, but it is well for us to
+consider also the echo of the songs that have
+never found expression in word or tune.</p>
+
+<p>Each soul is a minstrel whether he wills it or
+no, for God has fashioned a harp for every heart.
+There is a tradition that above the head of
+David’s couch there hung his favorite harp. The
+mountain winds coming through the midnight
+silence would stir its strings, awaken the sleeping
+lover of song, and bid him weave words of
+love to fit the wind-wrought music. Thus were<a href="#Page_111"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 111" id="Page_111"></span></a>
+the Psalms created. To each individual God has
+intrusted a priceless harp, tight drawn with
+silver chords of love, and sensitive to every
+touch of passing wind and falling sunbeam. So
+delicate are these heart-strings that every event
+of life awakens the dormant music and fills the
+soul with harmonies divine. Behold how sensitive
+they are.</p>
+
+<p>The day has been dull and gloomy and you
+have not cared to go abroad. After a while you
+become reminiscent. As though led by an unseen
+hand you enter a quiet, unused room and lift the
+lid of a quaint, old-fashioned chest. You know
+not why your followed impulses led you there,
+but you are glad that you obeyed the leading,
+for there, resting quietly amid fragrant lavender,
+is a treasured gift that came from a mother’s
+hand. It has been lying there for many years,
+untouched and unseen, but how beautiful its
+faded colors, how lovely its wrinkled folds
+placed there by the hands so long since turned
+to dust! and how, out of the dim mists of the
+past, it brings the soft colors and clear outlines
+of a dear, sweet face! There are tears in your
+eyes, but more and better than that, there is
+music in your soul. Every string of your heart is
+vibrant with melody.</p>
+
+<p>One morning you were ill and did not care to
+go to the office. You were indisposed just<a href="#Page_112"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 112" id="Page_112"></span></a>
+enough to enjoy the rich luxury of being waited
+upon, when, suddenly and unexpectedly, your
+eyes rested upon an old-fashioned picture that
+strangely and wondrously stirred your heart.
+For years it had been hanging there with its
+treasured memories, but you had been too busy
+to notice it. How charming its exquisite beauty
+as it greeted you from out its odd, old-styled
+frame. Its colors, mellowed with the passing
+years, carried you back triumphantly to the sun-bright
+days of the long ago, and the soul was
+stirred with music that charmed, and soothed,
+and inspired.</p>
+
+<p>The harp-strings of the heart are very sensitive.
+A finger-print or tear-stain upon the leaves
+of the old family Bible, the frail petals of a
+faded blossom, the sight of a tiny yellow garment
+or baby shoe, a package of letters tied
+with ribbon, or a scrap of paper scrawled by unskilled
+childish fingers, just little things that no
+one else admires or notices, is all that is required
+to start the music ringing in our hearts.</p>
+
+<p>To this music the soul always responds with
+a song. This is true even when one’s musical
+education has been neglected. The ear may not
+be able to distinguish one note from another, or
+discern the difference between “Old Hundred”
+and “The Star-Spangled Banner”; the individual
+may know nothing about harmony, time, or<a href="#Page_113"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 113" id="Page_113"></span></a>
+measure, when listening to the music that others
+have given to the world, but his own soul can
+always sing its own melodies. There is no note
+so high in the scale that the soul cannot reach it.
+I have heard the English lark lift its silver notes
+until they melted into sunshine and fell in great
+billows of joy upon the listening earth. Every
+soul can sing like that. As above the couch of
+David hung the harp awaiting the touch of the
+passing winds, so each heart is a stringed harp
+awaiting the touch of some common event to
+awaken music and set the soul to singing its
+minstrelsies.</p>
+
+<p>However beautiful these songs, they never
+pass the threshold of the lips. Their sweetness
+surpasses the power of expression. That must
+have been the reason why Mendelssohn wept so
+bitterly at times. With all his marvelous power
+in weaving tones he could not give expression to
+the rapturous melodies which were surging
+through his soul. This also explains why
+Michael Angelo so often gave way to the
+dreariest despondency. Though he try never so
+hard, he could not express upon canvas or in
+marble form the heavenly symphonies that were
+thrilling his soul. The reason that Lord Tennyson
+stood for such long periods upon the cliffs,
+overlooking the sea, not hearing the call of an
+approaching friend, was that his soul was searching<a href="#Page_114"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 114" id="Page_114"></span></a>
+through earth and sea and sky, for words
+with which to express the songs his soul was
+ever singing.</p>
+
+<p>The deepest and most valuable emotions of
+life are always inexpressible. How useless is
+human speech in the presence of the deep feelings
+of awe and reverence! I stood with a friend
+upon one of the great heights of the Catskills.
+He was a genial man, and the day had been filled
+with merriment. Rounding a curve, we came
+suddenly to the edge of a great cliff overlooking
+the Hudson valley. At our feet were many miles
+of forest trees mantling the hills and valleys with
+the brilliant coloring of Autumn foliage. We
+could count a score of villages nestled peacefully
+among the meadows and fields of ripened
+grain. The Hudson River rolled its silver length
+in the distance, while, far, far beyond us, draped
+in blue, we saw the hills and mountains of
+another State. Beholding what, in many respects,
+was the most soul-entrancing revelation
+of nature’s glory I had ever witnessed, neither
+of us spoke. The moments slipped by with
+slippered feet and the mid-afternoon became
+evening, before either of us broke the silence.
+It is sacrilegious for one to undertake to express
+the holy sentiments of awe and reverence in the
+clumsy garb of human speech. This is true of all
+deep feeling. Standing in the presence of a<a href="#Page_115"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 115" id="Page_115"></span></a>
+bereaved friend, shallow souls can chatter idle
+phrases, but deep, healing, tender sympathy is
+expressed in the silence of a handclasp and unspoken
+word. Looking into the deep, expressive
+eyes of one whom we love, our lips are silent and
+only the tear-filled eye tells of the song the soul
+is singing. Have you ever been able to tell your
+mother how much you loved her? The real
+songs of the soul are of necessity the unsung
+songs.</p>
+
+<p>These songs are the real songs, for the soul life
+is the real life. They may never be heard by
+others, but you hear them, and their words never
+die. They echo through the years. There is
+never a moment of thoughtful meditation, never
+a season of seclusion; never a period of sickness
+when the things of the world are shut out and
+one is left alone with the things of the soul;
+never a season of disappointment, or sorrow, or
+bereavement, or heartache, but that the hour is
+made blessed and hallowed with the memory of
+these songs, and lo, while one listens, all earth
+and heaven become vibrant with music and one
+is charmed and soothed with the echo of life’s
+unsung songs. While exiled upon the lonely
+heights of Patmos John heard a song that
+thrilled the heaven of heavens, but none save
+the multitude before the throne could learn the
+song. That is easily understood. It was not a<a href="#Page_116"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 116" id="Page_116"></span></a>
+song blending the varied experiences of earth
+together into one mighty outburst of love; it
+was the soul weaving all the unsung songs which
+no one on earth had ever heard or could ever
+understand into one great symphony with which
+to praise the God of its salvation. Life’s unsung
+songs shall never cease to live in earth and
+heaven. Their echoes are our comfort here, our
+joy forever.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_117"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 117" id="Page_117"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XVII">XVII<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+Modern Judases</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">The</span> story of Judas casts a dark shadow
+through the sunlight of twenty centuries. His
+deed was more than a betrayal of friendship.
+Lady Macbeth, coming from the chamber of
+death into the candlelight and beholding her
+lily-white hands stained ruby red with the blood
+of murdered friendship, and fearing to wash
+them, lest the ocean’s flood should tell to every
+rock-bound coast the blushing secret of her guilt,
+was not half so bad as Judas. This deed was
+more than the betrayal of friendship; it was the
+dark hand of villainy, reaching from behind the
+dark curtains of selfishness, that with the keen
+blade of greed he might pierce the unprotected
+breast of innocence. It was a tragedy that, with
+each decade’s growth in love, becomes more
+atrocious in the eyes of men.</p>
+
+<p>Named after Judas Maccabæus, one of the
+most illustrious characters of Jewish history,
+good enough and gifted enough to be chosen as
+a disciple, and possessing such integrity of character
+that he was chosen treasurer of the group,
+Judas began his public career auspiciously. For<a href="#Page_118"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 118" id="Page_118"></span></a>
+three years he had been associated with Christ
+in the most intimate manner. He had entered
+cities and passed through country places,
+preaching and performing miracles, until returning
+with radiant face he said with the other
+disciples, “Even the devils are subject unto us.”
+Having been lifted out of his old self, he rejoiced
+in the delights of noble living. Within a few
+weeks he would have been able to stand
+with Peter at Pentecost and take his place
+among the world’s beloved immortals. Then
+came the awakening. He had followed Christ
+through the fragrant fields of the Beatitudes and
+under the clear sky of the Sermon on the Mount;
+he had seen Christ, at the sacrifice of rest and
+comfort, change barren lives into beauty, as the
+sun adorns barren branches with clustered fruit;
+and now, as his life was approaching the crisis,
+Judas could see where the road was leading, and
+he became frightened. He saw that the end of
+the Christ-journey was not toward worldly
+triumph, but toward sorrow, not to a palace,
+but a bleak mountainside, not toward a throne,
+but a cross; and he began to think of himself.
+“What shall I do?” Like one facing a panic he
+stood petrified with terror. Seeing the investment
+of three long years trembling in the balance,
+he did not think it businesslike to follow
+Christ any further. His love for money so<a href="#Page_119"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 119" id="Page_119"></span></a>
+blinded his eyes that he could not see the moral
+grandeur of Christ’s program. Angered and disappointed,
+he deserted his post, sought the
+seclusion of the night-time shadows to complete
+his plans. Well does the inspired writer add,
+“And it was night.” Of course it was night;
+dark, starless, moonless night, for he had
+allowed his love for money to eclipse the Light
+of Life.</p>
+
+<p>From then on there was only one light attractive
+to Judas, and that was the luring light
+of avarice and greed. Seeking for it, he found it.
+Like the red fires of hell it burst into flaming
+stream from the high priest’s windows, where
+Arrogance and Lust for Power were plotting
+against the innocent. Rushing toward it, out of
+breath, his hands clutching his garments, his
+brow wet with perspiration, his eyes staring
+madly with greed for gold, he demanded:
+“What will you give me?” Shrewd and crafty,
+these unscrupulous leaders of men knew that the
+language of love and friendship could not be
+understood by this grasper of gain; so they used
+the only language he could now understand and
+wanted to hear—the language of the market
+place; and “they promised him money.”</p>
+
+<p>This is one of the darkest pictures in history,
+its black shadow reaching through the centuries,
+but it does not hang alone in the galleries of<a href="#Page_120"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 120" id="Page_120"></span></a>
+death. There are others still making the awful
+bargain of Judas, and gladly sacrificing the
+innocent for the sake of financial gain.</p>
+
+<p>Behold the unscrupulous real-estate dealers
+who force houses of immoral character into
+clean, residential sections of cities, betraying the
+cause of righteousness, injuring homes, and
+damning the souls of hundreds. Because immorality
+promises a more handsome and immediate
+return for the investment they become
+partners in the exploiting of sin and crime. As
+Judas went into the quietude of the Mount of
+Olives and brought wreck and ruin, so these men
+insidiously lead marauding bands of immoral
+workers into the best communities, well knowing
+that their deed means the betrayal of youth and
+maiden, but refusing to give it a thought, their
+attention fixed only on the increasing volume of
+business. The good name of a city or community,
+the value of innocence, and the sanctity
+of the home are nothing to these modern
+Judases.</p>
+
+<p>Behold the employers of child labor, who,
+under the disguise of charitably giving employment
+to the poor, are reaping revenues that
+provide them with luxuries at the cost of blasted
+lives. Many of our shops, stores, and factories
+are but presses where the life, hope, vigor, and
+vision of childhood are crushed out in order to<a href="#Page_121"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 121" id="Page_121"></span></a>
+fill to the brim the intoxicating cup of extravagance
+for people whose own lives are too foul
+and unfit to be used as grapes in their own
+presses. Daily the bright-faced boys and girls,
+the hope of the nation, are crowded out of the
+public school into the vats. Hour by hour their
+lives are pressed out until, broken in body,
+dwarfed in intellect, incapacitated for works of
+social service, falling far short of the requirements
+made upon their later years, they are
+thrown aside as useless pomace. The uncontrollable
+spirit of greed that places money above
+the value of life and happiness and goodness is
+the spirit of Judas.</p>
+
+<p>Behold the owners of tenement houses, those
+breeding places of filth and sin, where little children
+are compelled to live and die, or live and
+curse the world. Their only memories of childhood
+will be those of the crowded alley, foul
+hallways, and darkened corners in which they
+hide in fear. The memory of a mother’s face will
+be vague, ever hidden in the darkness and gloom
+in which she spent her days. Why do they not
+have fresh air? Greed. Why do they not have
+fresh water to drink? Greed. Why do their
+buildings not have good sanitation? Greed.
+Modern Judases are they all.</p>
+
+<p>Behold the men who are commercializing
+amusements. Men and women need recreation,<a href="#Page_122"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 122" id="Page_122"></span></a>
+and children must have places to play. The
+human body is not made of harder material than
+the locomotive, that requires rest between its
+trips, or, growing tired, refuses to carry its load.
+Therefore it is necessary to have places of
+recreation and exercise. But where shall the
+children go? The best bathing beaches of ocean,
+lake, and river bank are owned by money-making
+syndicates, and the people are compelled
+to pay for privileges which are their own by the
+right of birth and citizenship. More than this,
+since money is the objective, and the people
+must patronize their places, having no other
+places to go, they offend decency by catering to
+the coarse and vulgar element of the community,
+thus becoming places of moral contamination
+instead of places of recreation. This is also true
+of our theaters, moving picture houses, and
+amusement parks. That which is presented is
+very often so uncouth that modesty must hide
+her face.</p>
+
+<p>The deadening influence of the modern
+movies, their teachings of sex and treatment of
+marriage, is clearly shown in their effect upon
+the actors and actresses themselves. They have
+enacted these parts so often, and lived in the
+atmosphere where these things are discussed as
+the predominating tastes of the people, that the
+unnatural teachings have become their conceptions<a href="#Page_123"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 123" id="Page_123"></span></a>
+of real life until the story of their divorces
+and remarriages has scandalized all decent society.
+Beside the colonies of moving picture
+celebrities, Salt Lake City and other Mormon
+strongholds seem quite tame. If the moving
+picture has such a demoralizing influence over
+the actors and actresses, who are matured men
+and women, what will be the effect upon the
+growing generations? Already the atmosphere
+of school and playground is vitiated. The evil
+effects are already manifest to every conscientious
+Christian social worker. To silence the
+protests of a righteous guarding of the morals of
+the young, the moving picture corporations have
+set aside large amounts to prevent the needed
+legislation regulating censorship.</p>
+
+<p>The work of these modern Judases does not
+end here, but they insist upon the prostitution
+of the Sabbath day for their ungodly enterprises.
+For the sake of making money they are endeavoring
+to lead America in the same direction
+Europe has been traveling, and to the same
+tragic fate. Childhood and the Christian Sabbath
+are being desecrated every hour by these
+Judases whose one question in life is, “What
+will you give me?”</p>
+
+<p>It is time for an aroused citizenship to enter
+protest against these evils. We cannot prevent
+Judas from having base desires, nor giving his<a href="#Page_124"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 124" id="Page_124"></span></a>
+traitorous kiss, but we can compel Pilate, the
+officer, to render righteous judgment. Jesus was
+crucified, not because Judas kissed him, but
+because Pilate was a moral coward. Pilate
+washed his hands, declaring himself “innocent,”
+but every man in the mob knew that he was
+guilty. We cannot prevent Judas betraying, but
+we can create public sentiment which will compel
+officers to reach protecting hand against the
+greed of our modern Judases.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_125"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 125" id="Page_125"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XVIII">XVIII<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+The Adjustable Universe</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">That</span> God should adjust a universe so that all
+of its forces and energies should be at the instant
+disposal of those who, through obedience to his
+laws, lay claim to them, should not seem strange
+when we realize how perfectly we are now
+adjusting our mechanical and social conditions
+to meet the hourly needs of the body. The water
+supply of many of our large cities is pumped and
+propelled by what is known as the Holly Engine.
+Its regulation is perfectly automatic. Without
+any apparent cause, there is a constant change
+in the amount of steam produced. The engineer
+busies himself by oiling the bearings and polishing
+the shafts, but seems utterly indifferent to
+the pressure of the steam as it relates itself to
+the varying demands of the great city. The fact
+is that the engineer does not need to concern
+himself with the regulating of the engine, for the
+people of the city regulate it for themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Whenever a faucet is opened the draft in the
+engine is correspondingly opened, the fires burn
+brighter, the steam is increased, and the action
+of the pumps instantly accelerated. The larger<a href="#Page_126"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 126" id="Page_126"></span></a>
+the quantity of water needed, the wider the
+drafts, the stronger the fires, the greater the
+pressure of steam, the more active the huge
+pumps that labor to meet the increased demand.
+Quickly close the faucets, stop the outlet of
+water entirely, and the pumps will become inactive.
+So perfect is this adjustment that the
+smallest child, many miles away, may change
+the speed of the engine at will. It is designed to
+meet the needs of every person in the city,
+whether it be but a cup of water to moisten the
+fevered lips of a little child or great streams with
+which to fight the mighty conflagrations that
+threaten the life of the city.</p>
+
+<p>If man, out of common ore which he digs
+from the hills, can build machinery to meet the
+varying need of his fellow man, should it seem
+such an incredible thing that God, who made
+the human soul, could, out of his unlimited, unmeasured
+spiritual forces, arrange to instantly
+meet the need of every human soul? God can
+and God does. The fact is that the whole
+universe is so arranged. There is not a need of
+the soul of man that cannot be immediately
+satisfied, if one puts himself in obedient touch
+with the fixed spiritual laws that control the
+required forces, as, for the thirsty lips, we intelligently
+reach out, turn the faucet, and draw the
+cup of water.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_127"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 127" id="Page_127"></span></a></p>
+
+<p>It is at this point that the learned individual
+who loudly praises himself upon being a practical
+observer of life, takes most positive exceptions
+and insists that the weakness of the Church
+is this very insistence upon what, to him, seems
+the miraculous. He has not been able to observe
+that the strength of the Church is her belief in
+the laws governing prayer, compliance with
+which instantly brings all the Infinite resources
+of the sky to meet and fully satisfy the needs of
+the soul. The fault is not in God’s method of
+procedure, but in the narrow prejudices which
+the critic mistakes for the laws of logic. Let us
+consider the laws governing prayer as revealed
+in an old-time incident.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes red with weeping, and her face
+deeply drawn with sorrow, a lonely woman was
+pleading with Elisha for help. Out from dark
+shadows, she was journeying toward deeper
+gloom. She had just buried her husband, on the
+morrow she must journey to the auction block
+where her two sons, her only means of support,
+were to be sold into slavery, to meet the debts
+of her dead husband. She was helpless and
+heart-broken in her poverty. “What shall I do
+for thee? What hast thou in the house?” asked
+the solicitous prophet. “Thy handmaiden hath
+not anything in the house save”—and she
+faltered—“save a pot of ointment.” All her<a href="#Page_128"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 128" id="Page_128"></span></a>
+furniture and cooking utensils had been sold to
+help meet her financial obligations. There was
+only one thing left, and that was the jar of
+ointment which every Jewish person kept for
+the anointing of the dead. This was never disposed
+of. Then came the command, “Borrow
+empty vessels, and borrow not a few.”</p>
+
+<p>The two boys were set to work. The novelty
+of the situation whetted their curiosity and
+ambition and it was not long until the mother
+announced that there were enough vessels and
+that the doors and windows should be tightly
+closed. Then, with trembling fingers, she opened
+the little jar and began to empty its contents
+into the larger vessels. Three smiling faces bent
+over the open mouths of the jars, when, to their
+wonderment, the little jar had filled every one
+of the larger ones. Now there was no need of
+worry. The prayer had been answered. The sale
+of the oil would more than meet all the demands
+of the creditors. It was wonderful, but natural.</p>
+
+<p>Prayer is answered only according to the law
+of continuity. There were more than a
+thousand ways in which God could have come
+to the relief of the widow. The prophet’s touch
+could have filled the empty vessels to overflowing,
+as once a prophet’s touch melted granite
+rock into crystal streams of water; his touch
+could have filled the hut with abounding wealth;<a href="#Page_129"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 129" id="Page_129"></span></a>
+common dust might have gleamed as jewels;
+unexpected gifts might have been poured forth
+as rain; but they did not. God meets the
+emergencies of life through the law of continuity.
+The way of increase is always yielding what we
+have to the workings of higher laws. The small
+cruse held the secret of the overflowing jars.
+Hunger comes and God asks, “What hast thou?”
+and the husbandman answers, “Thy servant
+hath not anything save a handful of grain.”
+Then comes the command, “Take it to the well-plowed
+field, and pour it out.” He does so, and
+the field overflows with harvest. For the vine
+that man plants God gives the purple clusters;
+for the seed he sows God gives a loaf of bread.
+Like always produces like, and in prayer is followed
+the law of increase. What you have saved
+from what you have already owned, determines
+the nature of God’s answer to your petitions. If
+your heart hungers for sympathy, take the
+cruse of sympathy and pour it into the empty
+vessel of another’s life. The world yields no
+sympathy to the unsympathetic, but never fails
+to return with increase each expression of tender
+solicitude. If you pray for comforting power to
+heal an old wound, take whatever power of comfort
+you possess, and begin to minister to hearts
+that break. You will find increase that will fill
+every empty vessel of your heart, and gladness<a href="#Page_130"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 130" id="Page_130"></span></a>
+shall take the place of sorrow. If you are praying
+for financial aid, consecrate whatever strength
+of brain and muscle you possess to hard, clean
+work, and the return will richly recompense you.
+If you are asking God to make you of service to
+the world, pour out your life into the empty ones
+about you, and your petition will be granted.
+This is the law of spiritual adjustment. Along
+the lines of your own individuality will God prepare
+you for the larger task to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>We must also remember that the increase is
+determined, not by divine limitations, but by
+our own capacity. The command to the widow
+was, “Borrow empty vessels, and borrow <em>not a
+few</em>.” God placed no limitations, but, rather,
+gave urgent command to plan for large things.
+She could have borrowed a thousand empty
+vessels and a thousand vessels would have been
+filled. Her blessing was determined the moment
+she said to the boys who were securing the jars
+from the excited neighbors, “That is enough,
+you need not borrow more.” That moment she
+determined the amount of answer her prayers
+would receive. The oil ceased to flow when she
+had reached the limit of her preparation. What
+a tremendous truth! Our growth and spiritual
+attainments are unlimited so far as God is concerned.
+The possibility of development is unlimited
+so far as this world is concerned, for<a href="#Page_131"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 131" id="Page_131"></span></a>
+empty vessels and empty hearts are everywhere.
+Our growth is limited only by the breadth of our
+sympathies and the scope of our interests.</p>
+
+<p>Borrow empty vessels, and <em>borrow not a few</em>.
+What a challenge to the church of the living
+God! Begin to think and plan in big terms.
+“<em>Not a few.</em>” These are the words of One who
+thinks in numbers large enough to include all the
+grains of sand in all the oceans and all the stars
+of the universe. Count the forest leaves and the
+grass-blades and raindrops, and then ask yourself
+what God means when he says “<em>not a few</em>.”
+May the Christ of social service show the church
+of to-day that her power is limited only by her
+vision of her opportunity.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_132"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 132" id="Page_132"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XIX">XIX<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+Seeing Love</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">The</span> value of life is measured by the power of
+vision. The savage, tramping the diamond
+beneath his feet, and clinging to tooth and claw
+of the wild animals he has slain, represents a
+very narrow, restricted life, for he possessed a
+narrow vision. Beholding fruit-bearing trees, he
+saw only the crab and wild cherry of bitter taste.
+Looking across the open fields, he saw only the
+wind-tossed, tangled grass whose matted meshes
+made slow his travel. Along the wayside he saw
+only the daisy, and the thorn-mass of the wild
+rose bush forming a convenient place in which
+to hide while making observations. Because in
+the crab he could not see the possibilities of the
+Northern Spy, and because in the wild cherry
+he could not see the luscious Oxheart, his travel
+lacked refreshing fruit. Because in the tangled
+grass he could not see the gleaming gold of
+ripened grain, he had no food in time of famine.
+Because the weedlike daisy did not suggest the
+chrysanthemum, and the wild rose foretell the
+American Beauty, his pathway was commonplace.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_133"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 133" id="Page_133"></span></a></p>
+
+<p>Following the savage came those of wider
+vision, and soon the fields assumed the golden
+vesture of the ripened harvests, the hillsides
+became rich with luscious fruit, and life’s pathway
+was fringed with beauty.</p>
+
+<p>Each individual makes his own universe,
+using only, out of the vastness of God’s provision,
+such things as he has eyes to see. In the
+broad, open, western plains, with far-extending
+horizon and translucent sky bedecked with bits
+of light to lure the seeing soul to heights heroic,
+lives one whose universe is no wider than his
+daily task, and whose zenith has never ascended
+above his hat-crown. Careless in observation,
+his universe is scarcely larger than the dug-out
+in which he crawls at night to sleep. Dwelling
+in a dark room of the crowded tenement, bound
+by the cords of sickness to a sufferer’s bed of
+pain, lies one who knows nothing of the majesty
+of wind-swept fields, or vastness of the star-lit
+sky, but whose careful observations have made
+a zenith high enough to overarch the throne of
+God, and a horizon wide enough to include
+every need of the human soul.</p>
+
+<p>The richness of life depends largely upon how
+many of the things of life which ordinary people
+call commonplace can be crowded into the
+range of vision. The man possessing most of
+earth is not necessarily a landowner, but he who,<a href="#Page_134"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 134" id="Page_134"></span></a>
+whether rich or poor, learns to observe and
+appreciate the things about him. Christ never
+owned a foot of land. Standing in the dusty
+highway, worn and weary by countless deeds of
+sacrificial love, he exclaimed: “The foxes have
+holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but
+the Son of man has not where to lay his head.”
+He was poverty-stricken, yet, in all the history
+of the world, never was one so rich as he. For
+him every lily held a golden casket filled with
+an unmeasured wealth of inspiration. For him
+the birds winged their way from heights celestial
+to sing their songs of divine forethought. Each
+color of the sky was a prophet proclaiming the
+things of God. Speaking to his disciples, men
+who would necessarily remain poor and homeless,
+he said: “Blessed are the meek [those who
+are not looking for thrones of authority and
+power, but who, in humble state, learn to see the
+divine vision], for they own the earth.”</p>
+
+<p style="margin-bottom:0">I know such an one. A laborer in the field, he
+spends his life toiling for the one he loves, living
+in a rented cottage, faring on common food,
+dressing in coarse-woven garments, and yet
+possessing untold wealth. With blistered feet
+and sweat-washed brow, I have seen him coming
+home, smiling with beaming tenderness, as he
+carefully held in his calloused hand the frail,
+pink petals of the first spring beauty he had<a href="#Page_135"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 135" id="Page_135"></span></a>
+found blooming by his way. He never owned
+anything in particular, yet there was nothing in
+the universe that he did not possess and enjoy
+with rapturous heart. He knows that the voice
+of God is heard, not only in the roar of turbulent
+cataract, or reverberating peal of the majestic
+thunder, but also in the bog and quagmire.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+ <div class="stanza">
+ <div class="verse">“For in the mud and scum of things,</div>
+ <div class="verse">There’s always something, something sings.”</div>
+ </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p style="margin-top:0">He possesses a wealth that is indestructible.
+When one gazes so intently upon a flower that
+he beholds it as it really is, he has blessed the
+flower with immortality and his soul with an
+unfading beauty. The moment he truly beholds
+it, God transplants it to his soul, where it can
+never die, but live and bloom forever and forever.</p>
+
+<p>Christ came to enrich man’s experience by the
+process of extending his range of vision, teaching
+him that what meekness does for magnifying
+his conception of the natural world, piety does
+for the soul’s conception of the spiritual world.
+“Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall
+see God,” and afterwards adding, “God is love.”
+As humility gives one possession of the earth,
+purity gives one vision to behold the divine
+mystery of love.</p>
+
+<p>One of the secrets of Christ’s triumphant place
+in history was this vision of purity that enabled<a href="#Page_136"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 136" id="Page_136"></span></a>
+him to see the redeeming goodness in the hearts
+of the world’s outcasts. Christ could see love,
+therefore, when the pious priests were sitting
+with folded hands waiting for something to
+transpire that was worthy of their attention, he
+was busy in city street and country lane seeking
+to save that which was lost. He could see love,
+therefore when the self-righteous churchman,
+through prejudice, was blind to his neighbor’s
+need, he was toiling in the service of the loving
+heart. Busy men and women could see nothing
+in childhood, while Christ, with purity of heart,
+could look down upon these little ones, and,
+seeing the love that bubbles up in baby hearts to
+overflow in kisses, smiles, and laughter, lifted
+them to that high throne where value is measured
+only in terms of love. The pious ones saw
+the raving demoniac standing amid the desolations
+of the tombs, and felt that he was too far
+gone to help. Looking deep within this poor
+man’s heart, Christ saw his innate love for home,
+and never stopped until he had brought him into
+subjection to his words of power, and sent him,
+well and happy, to his home and family.</p>
+
+<p>The zealous religionists saw only evil in the
+poor woman who, escaping the rough grasp of
+her captors, was crouching at the feet of Christ,
+fearful and ashamed to look upward. Looking
+into her heart he saw less sin than love—love<a href="#Page_137"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 137" id="Page_137"></span></a>
+that was deep, and pure, and changeless, as only
+a woman’s love can be; therefore, instead of
+killing her because of sin, he forgave her because
+she loved, and then bade her go and live the
+life triumphant.</p>
+
+<p>Men accustomed to the scenes of crucifixion
+were not stirred when one of the crucified
+uttered a prayer for pardon. It was a common
+occurrence and put down as one of the strange
+expressions of loneliness; but to Jesus it was
+all important. Looking into the heart of the
+dying thief, Christ saw a worth-while love for
+that which was good and of finer quality, therefore
+he astonished even those who knew him
+best by lifting him out of sin and taking him
+with him to paradise.</p>
+
+<p>Living triumphantly necessitates one possessing
+the vision of purity, without which one cannot
+see God. Mother holds the preeminent
+place in every life, because her true living has
+kept her vision clear, and she sees the good that
+lies deep within the hearts of her children. Her
+son may become an outcast in the sight of
+others. Filled with iniquity, and helpless in the
+terrible grasp of passion, he may have lost faith
+in himself and says: “There is no hope for me.”
+The world hears, and readily agrees, and says
+that the young man is hopeless. But not the
+mother. To mother there is always hope. Her<a href="#Page_138"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 138" id="Page_138"></span></a>
+boy must not be thrown away, for he is of infinite
+value. She never notices his sin; she sees
+only the soul that lies hidden like a jewel beneath
+the rubbish of his transgressions. Seeing
+the love within his soul which others could not
+see, because they lacked the necessary love to
+see, her vision became the power that not only
+defies but completely changes public opinion.
+Because she loves much, she redeems and saves
+him, and compels the community to accept him
+as one who has wandered away, but has come
+back to the Father’s house. Blessed are the pure
+in heart, for unto them is given vision to see
+good in every one, and to behold their Lord in
+every event of life.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_139"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 139" id="Page_139"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XX">XX<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+The Dignity of Labor</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">There</span> is no liberty without toil. To enjoy
+the freedom of the sunshine, the germinating
+seed must lift and throw aside the clod which
+outweighs it a thousandfold. Before the blossom
+can unwrap its tinted petals in the sunlight
+it must, with the warmth of its own healthy
+growth, melt the wax that seals it in its winter
+sepulcher, and with its increasing strength tear
+away the rough bud-scales and hurl them to the
+ground. The oriole wings its way and fills the
+afternoon with song, only, after earnest effort,
+it has liberated itself from the imprisoning shell.</p>
+
+<p>Toil is the golden key which God gave the
+human race, that it might find escape from the
+self-inflicted slavery of sin. “In the sweat of thy
+face shalt thou eat bread” was not a curse pronounced
+by an offended Deity, but Love’s
+whispered secret of escape from harm. Standing
+amid the wreck of a sin-torn paradise, man
+looked through the open archway of these six
+words—“In the sweat of thy face”—and saw
+the possibilities of a world-wide Eden. Beholding
+the fruit begin to fail, and the greensward<a href="#Page_140"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 140" id="Page_140"></span></a>
+become tangled with brush and bramble, Fear
+said: “You shall die of hunger.” “In the sweat
+of thy face” revealed broad acres filled with
+health-giving ripening grain and orchards
+laden with luscious fruit. Beholding the lakes
+become stagnant, and the river beds becoming
+dry and parched, Fear said: “You shall perish
+of thirst.” “In the sweat of thy face” revealed
+vineyards adrip with purple wine, and desert
+lands abloom with beauty because man would
+learn to train the mountain streams to follow
+where he led. Yea, more, “In the sweat of thy
+face” opened a pathway through which Hope
+ran to find salvation from the deadly power of
+sin. Coming back, with face aglow, that bright
+clad Angel bade man first to give his strength
+in building an altar on which to offer heartfelt
+thanks to God, who had made the human hand
+with which to toil and rebuild paradise.</p>
+
+<p>Happy and fortunate is the man who learns
+to do his daily stint of work with a cheerful
+heart. To him shall be the joy of understanding
+that the ordinary duties of life are not burdens
+sent to crush him to earth, but blessings through
+which he is to work out his own salvation.</p>
+
+<p>Behold how man’s labors have redeemed the
+world from barrenness. Soft, yielding swamps
+have become hard-paved streets of famous
+cities, over which the unappreciative multitudes<a href="#Page_141"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 141" id="Page_141"></span></a>
+walk or ride in perfect comfort. Where once the
+heated winds blew the drifting sands to-day the
+gentle zephyrs fan the rich, green meadows.
+Where once the untrained, tangled vines broke
+down the struggling tree upon which they clung,
+the vineyards yield their purple clusters, and the
+orchards give forth their wealth of sweet and
+luscious fruit. Where once the wild weeds threw
+their choking pollen to the wind, the aster, rose,
+and proud chrysanthemum wave upon graceful
+stems and toss their pretty petals to and fro.
+Where once the savage stretched his tents of
+skins, brown-stone mansions lift their open
+portals in invitation to the weary sons of toil.
+By the sweat of man’s brow, by the toiling
+of the multitudes, we are saved from desolation
+and made to dwell securely among the
+gardens.</p>
+
+<p>Toil saves from sickness. Without the putting
+forth of physical effort all men are weaklings.
+To be a producer, to change the strength of
+brain and muscle into that which is of value to
+his fellow man, is not only necessary if he would
+play his part in the great social institution of
+which he finds himself a part, but it is necessary
+for his own mental, physical, and spiritual salvation.
+Grinding out his days in unceasing
+industry, many a man curses his lot and wishes
+earnestly for idleness, not knowing that toil is<a href="#Page_142"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 142" id="Page_142"></span></a>
+the making of a man with strong muscles, firm
+flesh, large lung capacity, and good digestion,
+for toil forces the blood in rapid circulation.
+Honest toil is the best tonic. When asked what
+was the secret of his good health, a great statesman
+responded, “Hard work.” Overfed, full of
+gout, and ill humored, a certain man of ease
+requested a celebrated physician to prescribe
+for him. “Live upon sixpence a day, and earn
+it,” was the advice. Over one half of the invalids
+of the world could be almost instantly cured, if
+they would concentrate their attention, and
+direct all their strength, in carrying forward
+some worthy enterprise. Caring for a garden is
+a good preventive for consumption. Labor
+means exercise, exercise means health. Common
+toil is God’s prescription by which we are to
+work out our salvation from many days of sickness
+and depression.</p>
+
+<p>Labor preserves us from needless sorrow.
+Imagine the condition of Adam leaving Eden
+with all his faculties save that which would
+enable him to concentrate his energies upon
+some worth-while task—with the power to think
+and ponder over the hardships of his fallen
+situation; with the marvelous power of memory
+to recall his faded days of gladness; with the
+power of a good imagination, to paint fairer,
+brighter pictures for the future, and yet without<a href="#Page_143"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 143" id="Page_143"></span></a>
+the power to organize these faculties for
+action, thus having no force of character with
+which to achieve. Such life would be worse than
+death, no matter what evils death might bring.
+But through the gracious promise of the sweat-washed
+brow man found surcease for sorrow in
+attempting to build a better garden for himself
+and little ones. There is no happiness save that
+which results in using one’s strength and talents
+in honest endeavor. Idleness breeds discontent,
+worry, and fear. It adds a thousand pangs to
+every grief and sorrow. The most unhappy and
+therefore the most unfortunate people in the
+world are those who have the financial resources
+to sit in idleness and nurse their grief. Better
+by far be the poor woman who leaves her dead,
+and goes to scrub the floors of a public building,
+for in her honest toil she finds a healing, comforting
+touch. Toil makes one forget his grief,
+soothes him with a gentle hand, and permits the
+grace of God to heal the wounded soul and
+broken heart.</p>
+
+<p>Labor is a strong tower that shields one from
+the onslaughts of temptation. It is the idle hand
+that Satan seeks. One half of our incarcerated
+criminals owe their position to the fact that they
+refused to accept the protecting power of toil to
+keep them in the way of righteousness. Having
+nothing to do, they fell in with evil companions.<a href="#Page_144"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 144" id="Page_144"></span></a>
+Having nothing to do, they partook of questionable
+amusements. Having nothing to do,
+they followed the evil leading of their passions.
+Having nothing to do, sin and disgrace made
+them easy captives. One way of salvation is to
+escape from temptation, and one of the best
+ways to escape temptation is to be so busily
+occupied with clean, honest, manly endeavor,
+that the devil has no access to the mind with
+either spoken word or secret thought. Work out
+your salvation from temptation.</p>
+
+<p>Labor may also contribute largely to the developing
+of Christian character. There would
+be no backsliding in our churches if those who
+profess the name of Christ would engage in his
+great enterprise of saving and redeeming the
+world. The growing spirit of indifference, that
+is paralyzing so many of our religious activities,
+could not be, had men not become idlers in the
+Kingdom. Business men look upon the church
+and say that it is weak because it has no program.
+This is true. We lacked a program, not
+because we had no program, but because we
+refused to follow the one that God gave us.
+The church is far from being dead. Those
+who have kept true to their Divine Lord, and
+have humbly, but earnestly worked his works,
+have been saved from all these temptations to
+sin and worldliness, and their ardor to-day is<a href="#Page_145"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 145" id="Page_145"></span></a>
+brighter than on the day they first gave their
+hearts to Christ.</p>
+
+<p>Then let us get to work. Labor cannot save
+us from the penalty of sin. Nothing save the
+grace of God can do that for us, but it can save
+us from barren surroundings, from much of our
+sickness, from the deadening influences of sorrow,
+from the power of many of our most
+dangerous temptations, and aid us in spiritual
+development. Work with a good will. Let no
+man laugh you out of its benefits. Say to the
+world, “Yes, I am a laboring man.” Let no
+blush come to your cheek, unless it be because
+you are not a better and more earnest workman.
+Labor with the knowledge that while you are
+at your task you are ranked with the mightiest
+and most illustrious characters of the world.
+Labor adds to dignity. Hard, honest work gives
+self-respect. Toil saves one from the life of a
+parasite, enabling him to pay his own way, at
+the same time leaving the world brighter and
+richer because of his toil. The richest jewel that
+ever adorned the brow of man is not in the
+King’s crown. It is the beaded sweat that
+stands upon the tanned forehead of an honest
+laborer. Wear it with the dignity with which
+a king wears his crown of gold. In the light of
+God’s approving smile it will pale and make insignificant
+the crown jewels of all the nations.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_146"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 146" id="Page_146"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XXI">XXI<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+Above the Commonplace of Sin</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">Individuality</span> is one of God’s ways of expressing
+his greatness. His voice penetrates the
+centuries like the sound of silver bells, but there
+is never an echo. No duplicates are ever found
+among the works of God’s creative power. He
+gives his gifts unto the world with boundless
+generosity, but through the centuries no single
+gift has ever found its counterpart. Everything
+coming from the hand of God is original, unique,
+entirely dissimilar to anything else in the realm
+of nature. No two oak leaves are alike. They
+may be cut from the same pattern, so that,
+no matter where you find them drifting in the
+winds, you instantly recognize them, saying,
+“These are oak leaves”; yet, of all the millions
+of leaves that have unfolded upon branches of
+the oaks of countless ages, no two have been
+identical in size or form or in the delicate
+tracery of the tiny veins which are as delicate as
+hoarfrost, yet strong as leaden pipes.</p>
+
+<p>God never duplicates. The wild rose is a
+simple flower, possessing but five petals, held
+securely in the golden chalice of pollen-laden<a href="#Page_147"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 147" id="Page_147"></span></a>
+stamens. Nothing could possibly be more liable
+of duplication than this quaint flower of simple
+garb, yet of all the wild-rose blooms gathered by
+lovers’ hands and pressed to maidens’ lips, of all
+the wild-rose blooms that grace the old-fashioned
+gardens and trellis the fences of the country
+roads with their picturesque, sublime simplicity,
+no two are alike. God so respects the pretty
+things about which human sentiment revolves
+that no two are cast from the same mold. Consider
+the blossom that you once kissed, and
+pressing, stored away. It is hidden in a secret
+place, intended for no eyes save your own, and
+viewed only through the clear tears that memory
+revives. Guard it with the tenderest care, for
+God will never make another blossom just like it.
+He respects the tender affections of your heart
+that chose this blossom from a lover’s hand
+to be the sweetest, fairest blossom of your
+life.</p>
+
+<p>When a mother stoops and plucks a blossom
+from her baby’s grave, covers it with mingled
+tears and kisses, and puts it away between the
+leaves of the family Bible, thus binding in one
+cover the sweetest sentiments of this world and
+the best hopes and aspirations of a better world,
+she does a beautiful thing, and our heavenly
+Father so honors her love and reverence for her
+precious dead that, though a thousand centuries<a href="#Page_148"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 148" id="Page_148"></span></a>
+come and go, he will never make another blossom
+just like that.</p>
+
+<p>We love all mountains because of their rugged
+strength and majesty, yet no two mountains are
+alike, for to the mountains God has given
+personality. The Rockies stand like naked
+giants with knotted muscles ever ready to
+grapple with storms that smite their rugged
+sides, rejoicing, like strong men, at the ease with
+which they break the strength of their adversary,
+and hurl the whirlwind, like a helpless
+zephyr, into the mighty chasms at their feet.
+The Alps are like a procession of kings, bejeweled
+and berobed for coronation day. To see
+the Alps is to have a holiday and have one’s soul
+thrilled with boyhood’s wonderment and praise.
+The Catskills are a languid group of charming
+country folk with whom you can sit and chat,
+and feel the magic wonderment of childhood
+creeping through the soul, as you listen to
+quaint voices repeat their myths and legends.
+No two mountains are alike, for God likes versatility
+in heaped-up piles of rock as much as in
+fluttering leaves and blooming flowers.</p>
+
+<p>No two sunsets are alike. The hanging tapestries
+of the west may be woven in the same
+looms of mist, and dyed in the same vats of
+scarlet, purple, red, and orange; they may be
+laced with the same golden strands of unraveled<a href="#Page_149"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 149" id="Page_149"></span></a>
+sunbeams; and their drapery may reveal the
+self-same angel touch, yet no two sunsets are
+alike, each having its own individuality, and
+living forever as a master painting to beautify
+the walls of memory. Well do youth and maiden
+stand with clasped hands as they face the sunset.
+Let them feast upon its gorgeous beauty
+until their hearts are filled with light and love,
+for they shall never see another sunset just like
+that. Returning to the valley’s old familiar
+paths, where they shall walk together amid their
+mingled lights and shades, they shall rejoice
+through many years because of the brilliancy of
+that one sunset which God made for them, and
+for them alone.</p>
+
+<p>This love for originality is seen in the play of
+the wild waves’ crest whose molten silver falls
+into beads and necklaces and pendants of unequaled
+workmanship to fill the unseen jewel
+caskets of the deep.</p>
+
+<p>What is true of the natural world is also true
+of man. Consider the variations of the human
+face. Reflecting upon the limited number of
+features, one is amazed to think that such an
+infinite combination of facial forms and expressions
+can be created. There are only two eyes,
+two ears, one nose and one mouth, and yet
+out of that small combination, behold what God
+hath wrought! From the soft, pink rosebud of<a href="#Page_150"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 150" id="Page_150"></span></a>
+a baby’s smiling face, looking with wistful
+wonderment at a newly found world; through
+all the charming sweetness of maiden’s cheek
+and love-laden eyes; through all the grandeur
+of the hero’s chiseled features; through the glory
+of motherhood smiling affectionately upon her
+little brood; through manhood making battle
+for home and righteousness—through all these
+until, at last, you behold the unequaled beauty,
+majesty, grandeur, and dignity of old age, no
+two countenances are alike.</p>
+
+<p>The glory of God is revealed through individuality.
+No two persons are alike in form or
+feature, gift or grace. No two minds have
+exactly the same characteristics. No two souls
+look upon life from identical viewpoint, so that
+each one varies in his conception of events and
+expression of art and letters. A king wears the
+crown of his predecessor, but for each brow God
+has fashioned the fairer crown of individuality.
+Men, as God made them, are not pegs to be
+placed in holes, but kings, to sit upon thrones
+and rule kingdoms all their own. “Before I
+formed thee in the belly I knew thee,” are the
+words of Jehovah when he wished to impress
+Jeremiah with the infinite care with which he
+had been prepared for a noble work.</p>
+
+<p>To endeavor to reshape this divinely appointed
+life and mold it after an earthly, man-made<a href="#Page_151"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 151" id="Page_151"></span></a>
+pattern is the height of folly, yet this is
+the demand of very much of our modern social
+life. Society employs a system of repression,
+the subduing and crushing of deep emotions, and
+substituting a shallow artificiality. It curbs all
+naturalness in development and demands a conformity
+to certain rigid molds in which every
+word, gesture, thought, and impulse must be
+cast. Instead of employing the art of expression,
+permitting the deep feelings to find normal
+outlet, and allowing the salutary unfolding of
+individual strength and grace, they check and
+curb and repress until the beauty and normalcy
+of life is gone. Our present system of society
+custom and usages cannot produce great character.</p>
+
+<p>Failing to recognize individuality as the
+universal plan, many educators mistake their
+function, endeavoring to mold men according to
+their conceptions rather than instructing men.
+Instead of leading the mind away from the
+narrow cloister of tradition, form, and ceremonialism,
+into the open air where it can function
+normally, and unfold its strength and
+beauty in perfect individualism, many intellectual
+leaders continue the practice of pitilessly
+dwarfing minds and stunting souls.</p>
+
+<p>Sin also leads to the commonplace. Realizing
+that man’s strength lies in developing those<a href="#Page_152"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 152" id="Page_152"></span></a>
+characteristics that mark personality, the arch
+enemy of the soul is ever endeavoring to destroy
+them. He tempts to sin, knowing well that there
+is no other agency so powerful in destroying
+individuality. Sin never lifts men upward toward
+lofty heights but always levels downward.
+It knows no royalty of character, so it tears
+down thrones, casts man’s crown aside, blurs the
+eye, palsies the nerve, blotches the countenance,
+deadens the brain, hardens the heart, and makes
+its victim a member of the common herd. Sin
+is not error; it is poison that stunts the growing
+aspirations, dwarfs the spiritual nature, lowers
+spiritual vitality, and completely destroys all
+the royal gifts of God that would distinguish one
+in character and achievement.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore righteousness must be preached as
+never before. Only through virtue can one lift
+himself above the commonplace and his individuality
+reach its maximum power. Wrongdoing
+destroys while right living makes possible the
+complete development of all the noble faculties
+of the soul, permitting one to experience the
+fullest possible realization of life. Men must not
+be repressed by the foolish processes of a misguided
+social, educational, or evil custom.
+Righteousness must be preached that youth may
+know the freedom of goodness and the joy of
+righteousness. As birds greet the dawn, by<a href="#Page_153"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 153" id="Page_153"></span></a>
+rising on rapturous wing and filling the blue with
+exultant song, let youth and maiden greet the
+coming day with gladness as they rise above the
+commonplace of sin. The Divine plan for their
+lives must not be marred by sin or foolishness.
+The uniqueness and originality of God’s plan
+are the secrets of success. The joys of righteousness
+are too valuable to exchange for the misery
+and heartache of a wasted life.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_154"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 154" id="Page_154"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XXII">XXII<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+The Investment of a Life</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">The</span> problem of investment provides much of
+the romance as well as the tragedy of life. The
+fascination of expending one’s energies or possessions
+in legitimate undertakings holds all men
+spellbound, whether it be the peasant investing
+in seed for the coming harvest, the newsboy
+buying his bundle of papers for the evening
+trade, or the merchant purchasing wares against
+the changing styles and fitful customs. The
+investment proving good furnishes the joy and
+romance of existence. The investment proving
+bad causes the tragedy that shatters the brain,
+breaks the heart, smolders the homefires, and
+sends multitudes reeling and cursing into the
+darkness.</p>
+
+<p>All men are investors. Some of them invest
+their brain. Finding that God has honored them
+with an intellect capable of development, they
+have closely applied themselves to study and
+research, until the meanest flower enlarges itself
+into an Eden where each petal vein becomes a
+winding pathway leading to fountains of nectar
+that ever sport and play amid the golden pillars<a href="#Page_155"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 155" id="Page_155"></span></a>
+and tapestry of stamen and pollen. They study
+until oak trees become mighty ships, iron
+fashions itself into sky-scrapers, forked lightning
+becomes a servant of the humblest child, sunbeams
+become physicians, stars become pilots,
+and the sky a playground in which the mind
+leaps from world to world and wheeling constellation
+to wheeling constellation. Very rich
+indeed are the dividends coming to him who
+invests his brain against the world’s ignorance
+and mysteries.</p>
+
+<p>All men are investors. Some men invest their
+bodies. They bend their back to the burden
+until the blood vessels stand out upon their
+temples like silken nets. They give the strength
+of their arms to the hammer and drill until the
+flinty cliff becomes broad highways beneath
+their feet. They toil until mountains become
+winding corridors leading to chests of silver;
+valleys bloom with harvests, and frail cocoons
+become silken robes. They toil, earning dividends
+of daily bread, a happy home, and the
+consciousness that the world is better for their
+toil.</p>
+
+<p>All men are investors. Æsthetic in temperament,
+some invest a love for the beautiful. They
+find rhythm in swaying tree branch, harmony in
+the moving of winds, music in chirp of crickets,
+symphonies in the carol of birds, poetry in<a href="#Page_156"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 156" id="Page_156"></span></a>
+gleaming lights upon the water, visions of glory
+in the morning and evening sky. They adorn
+our cities with temples, fill our homes with immortal
+songs, transform white marble into immortal
+shapes, and fill our galleries with visions
+of sunsets that never fade, trees whose leaves are
+never driven by the November winds, children
+who never grow up, and family circles unbroken
+by death. Dividends surpassing belief belong
+to these true and faithful lovers of the beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>All men are investors. Some men invest their
+gift for business. They concentrate their
+energies on the art of trade until gigantic ships
+cut the ocean waves, steel rails join nations and
+continents, wire threads bind home to home,
+keeping each ear within instant reach of loved
+one’s voice, refrigerator cars that bring the fruit
+of the tropics to the Christmas table, and means
+of transportation that finds a world-wide sale
+for the handiwork of the humblest toiler. All
+honor to such men! Nations do not coin currency
+for business. Business is the mint whose
+products fill the coffers of the nations.</p>
+
+<p>All men are investors. Some invest their
+heart’s affections upon things divine. Their ears
+are closed to evil and they know not concerning
+things that blight and blast, scorch and consume
+the soul. Their eyes are closed to the
+suggestive, therefore evil finds no lighted pathway<a href="#Page_157"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 157" id="Page_157"></span></a>
+to their imagination. Their hands are held
+firmly and will not touch that which contaminates.
+Their lives are like unto that of the
+Lord Jesus, and therefore they are the children
+of freedom. Their words drop like the dew, each
+crystal drop reflecting the heavens toward which
+they journey. Their smiles are like unto sunbeams
+upon harvest fields, making the grain
+sweeter of kernel and more golden of husk.
+Their voices melt with tenderness as ripe
+grapes drip wine. Their opinions are permeated
+with charity as ripe fruit is filled with fragrance.
+Their coming is like that of a messenger from a
+friendly king.</p>
+
+<p>Each man is an investor, whether he invests
+his intellect for education, his body for physical
+betterment, his æsthetic nature for art, his business
+sagacity for prosperity, his heart for the
+fellowship of God, receiving benefits and meeting
+his honest obligations to the world. Honesty
+demands that each individual should be such an
+investor, investing himself and all that he
+possesses, for he who refuses to do so robs his
+fellow man. For such hell is a moral necessity.
+He who refuses to yield himself to the plan of
+God must not be disappointed when he finds
+himself outside of God’s plan for his happiness
+and welfare.</p>
+
+<p>There are no safety deposit vaults for God’s<a href="#Page_158"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 158" id="Page_158"></span></a>
+gifts to man. When times of financial panic
+come, frightened and panic-smitten men withdraw
+their currency from circulation, store it
+away in a vault, thus hastening the national
+disaster. Panics come when men refuse to
+invest. In an hour like the present, when moral
+forces are facing a panic, when organized forces
+for evil are using every possible unprincipled
+means and method to press righteousness to the
+wall, no man has any right whatever to withdraw
+and hide his talent. Every lover of truth,
+every believer in immortality, should give the
+best he has, every faculty and talent, the widest
+possible circulation. Invest, and invest heavily,
+is the order from on high. Invest in order to
+restore confidence to the people of God. Let
+them feel encouragement by seeing that the very
+best you have is at the disposal of all mankind.
+Refusing to do so makes one a miser deserving
+of nothing save the curse of man. Upon the
+wholeness of the investment depends one’s
+destiny on the Day of Judgment. To the one
+who, by investment, has increased his talent,
+God says: “Well done, good and faithful
+servant, enter into joy.” To the one who refuses
+to make investment of his life, he says: “Take
+away that which he hath.” The Judgment
+hinges on the problem of investment.</p>
+
+<p>That we make not fatal mistake let us remember<a href="#Page_159"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 159" id="Page_159"></span></a>
+that no talent is properly invested unless
+done so with a reverent purpose. Talents may
+be invested aimlessly and without results. To
+bring paying dividends the investment must be
+backed by a life having a noble purpose. To
+illustrate, if you were compelled to sum up your
+entire life in one sentence, what would you be
+able to say of yourself? What one predominant
+characteristic do you recognize as being the
+index of your life? You reply, “I am a student.”
+Is that all you can say? You have invested
+brains, are an educated man, but is that all?</p>
+
+<p>Unless you have applied your intellect to
+successfully solving some problem for those who,
+denied your blessings, are ignorant and superstitious,
+your knowledge is valueless and will be
+buried with you. You may be a toiler, but unless
+you have tugged away and lifted, with all your
+might, at the world’s burdens, your strength will
+go with you to the grave. If your investment of
+the æsthetic does not make the world more
+beautiful, it is valueless. Are you successful in
+business? Is that all that can be said? You
+may be worth many millions of dollars, but if
+your gold has never gleamed in true philanthropy
+it will crumble into dust with your body.
+You may be good, but unless your goodness
+expresses itself in sacrificial service, it is worthless.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_160"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 160" id="Page_160"></span></a></p>
+
+<p>That which is enduring demands, not the
+investment of talents alone, but the investment
+of the whole life. To give your talents indifferently
+marks you, not as an investor, but as a
+spender, and anyone can spend money, especially
+inherited money. To make an investment
+demands a whole life centered upon one holy
+and noble purpose, for which one spares neither
+toil nor sacrifice, energy nor time, until the
+united efforts become permanent in the world
+and forever identify your name with that noble
+purpose. To invest wisely is to endow one’s
+name until it stands out the rich embodiment of
+some worthy purpose, as the name “Dante”
+stands for poetry, the name “Abraham Lincoln”
+stands for the emancipation of the slaves, the
+name “Garibaldi” stands for liberty, the names
+of Peabody and Shaftesbury stand for benevolence,
+and the names of Wesley and Moody
+stand for the redemption of a world.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_161"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 161" id="Page_161"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XXIII">XXIII<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+Thought Planting</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">There</span> is nothing more common, and seemingly
+insignificant, than the planting of a garden.
+There are the simple upturning of the sod, the
+mellowing of the soil, and the burial of a hard-shelled
+seed. Let a chemist analyze the soil, and
+a scientist examine the seed, and they will be
+unable to find anything signifying relationship
+between the two. There is nothing, so far as the
+human eye can see, to suggest that the combination
+of seed and soil would be other than the
+combination of stone and stubble. But when
+once planted all the universe knows about the
+little brown seed. The earth and the seed were
+made for each other, and no sooner do they
+come in proper contact than the whole universe
+is set in motion about and for the development
+of that buried germ. There is not a cloud floating
+afar nor a star gleaming mildly in the distant
+blue that does not exist for that tiny seed until,
+through the ministration of sunbeam and moonlight,
+shower and baptismal dew, the seed arises,
+clothed in the glory of a resurrection, to lift
+itself in right royal grandeur above the clod.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_162"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 162" id="Page_162"></span></a></p>
+
+<p>No one can explain how the inanimate can
+thus become living tissue, but the sun keeps
+warming its leaves with caresses, and the kindly
+winds bring tribute from distant lands; and the
+guarding stars keep sending their benign forces,
+and the cool hand of the darkness offers its
+chalice of dew, so that the seed becomes a tree,
+whose nectar attracts the bees and butterflies,
+and whose wide-extending branches become the
+home and playground of the birds.</p>
+
+<p>There is nothing seemingly more insignificant
+than the planting of a garden unless it be the
+beginning of a good and useful life. It is simply
+planting a thought in an ordinary human brain.
+The wise philosopher may examine the thought
+and pronounce it quite commonplace; the grammarian
+may test it and say that it could be
+constructed in a more exact and polished
+manner; the physiologist may examine the brain
+and pronounce the texture of its convolutions as
+being most ordinary. There is nothing anywhere
+to indicate that the combination of that particular
+thought and that particular brain could
+result in anything particularly extraordinary.
+The possessor of the brain may feel no different
+after the planting of the thought and have no
+presentiment of what it shall mean to him in the
+years that follow. But the whole universe knows
+about the thought planting. As the stars remember<a href="#Page_163"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 163" id="Page_163"></span></a>
+the buried seed, so all the divine forces of
+earth and heaven are set to work about the
+planted thought. Days and weeks may pass
+without the world observing any appreciable
+results, and it may even forget the planting.
+But God has not forgotten. He is remembering
+it, guarding it with divine care, and the results
+will appear sooner than we think.</p>
+
+<p>That is the reason, I believe, that Christ took
+the mustard seed for the foundation of a parable.
+The seed is not only one of the smallest, being so
+little that it can slip unnoticed from your grasp,
+and hide within the crevice of a clod, mocking
+your solicitous search, but it is of most rapid
+growth. Within a fortnight it will overshadow
+the garden, and before the season is ended will
+tower twelve to fifteen feet in height, its sturdy
+branches affording shelter, and protected nests,
+for many birds. Divine thoughts within the
+brain are capable of this marvelous development.
+The planting may be an unattractive
+thing to do; the mind itself may be as unresponsive
+as the soil at the first planting of the
+seed, but God has not forgotten his truth, and
+all the universe is working for its fullest development.
+Soon, very soon, will it manifest its
+marvelous nature by rapid growth and bloom.</p>
+
+<p>Here is a little lass, living among the forests of
+Domremy. Day by day she watches the soldiers<a href="#Page_164"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 164" id="Page_164"></span></a>
+of hostile powers tramping along the dusty
+highways to devastate the land she loves so
+dearly. Her heart aches as she sees her people
+languishing helplessly under the heavy yoke of
+oppression. Standing with tear-filled eyes one
+day she hears an old man say: “God will one
+day raise a deliverer for the French.” Amid the
+dust arising from the tramping of an invading
+army a thought was planted in the mind of a
+child.</p>
+
+<p>Here is a little girl at Ledbury, near the
+Malvern Hills, sitting in her father’s dooryard,
+looking at the mysterious letters of a Greek
+book, whose secrets refuse to yield themselves
+to her inquisitive brain. Disappointed, she
+buries her face in her book and weeps, only to
+be found by a kind friend who picks her up and
+whispers in her ear: “There, do not cry. A little
+girl can learn Greek if she tries.” The world
+goes along as usual, not knowing that a new
+thought has been planted, and that girls may
+learn Greek as readily as do the boys.</p>
+
+<p>Here is a little boy, standing by a harpsichord,
+watching his father’s fingers find the notes upon
+the ivory keyboard. His soul is filled with
+delight as he listens to the melodies that arise.
+Beholding the nervous twitch of the tiny fingers
+longing to earnestly and reverently touch the
+music-making keys, the father bends low,<a href="#Page_165"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 165" id="Page_165"></span></a>
+and says: “Be patient, son, and keep loving
+your music, for some day you will be a great
+musician.”</p>
+
+<p>Here is a little boy drawing with charcoal
+upon the white walls of his mother’s kitchen,
+while a precious old grandmother sits watching
+the young artist. Taking him in her arms, she
+said, “Do not paint to rub out, paint for
+eternity.” Commonplace words uttered in a
+commonplace home by a very commonplace old
+lady.</p>
+
+<p>Here is a bright-eyed little boy kneeling at his
+mother’s side to say his prayers. Having finished
+his petitions, the Christian mother says, encouragingly,
+as she strokes his head, “Only be
+good, my precious boy, and God will use you to
+help the thousands.”</p>
+
+<p>We have seen these five persons putting
+ordinary thoughts in what seem to be ordinary
+brains. These five children felt no enraptured
+thrill, the ones who sowed the thoughts did not
+remember the day. But all the universe of
+spiritual power knew about the planting, and
+consequently the seeds grew. Watch the little
+girl among the forests of Domremy, leaning
+against the trees, buried in thought, and listening
+to the voices that ever speak of redeeming
+France. Watch the little girl bending over her
+Greek book, day after day, finding the key that<a href="#Page_166"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 166" id="Page_166"></span></a>
+unlocks the beauty of Homer and Thucydides.
+Watch the little lad sitting past the midnight
+hour, his long curls falling in rich folds about
+his face as he bends over the harpsichord
+awakening the slumbering strings. Watch the
+little lad gathering clays of various colors and
+grinding them into paint, which shall, at the
+touch of his brush, awaken angels upon the
+canvas. Watch the little lad who learned to
+pray at his mother’s knee, gathering the
+students of Oxford about him to spend the
+evening hour in prayer. God has not forgotten
+the good thoughts sown in the days gone by, and
+all the spiritual forces of the heavens are working
+for their most complete development. Soon
+the little lass of Domremy, obedient to the call
+of the voices, mounts her charger and compels
+King Charles, the invader, to flee and give back
+the government of France to her people. Soon
+the little girl who studied so diligently to learn
+Greek will become Mrs. Elizabeth Browning, to
+make the centuries happy with the music of her
+poems. Soon the little lad at the harpsichord
+will become the mighty Mozart, whose music
+lingers like the sweet fragrance of dew-wet
+flowers. Soon will the little boy, drawing with
+charcoal, begin to paint for eternity, and the
+“Angelus” and “The Man with a Hoe” begin
+their deathless career, as a tribute to toil, and<a href="#Page_167"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 167" id="Page_167"></span></a>
+an eternal protest against oppression. Soon the
+boy of Epworth and the youth of Oxford will
+become John Wesley, the leader of the great
+revival which swept England at a critical period
+and directed her on the right track.</p>
+
+<p>No one can understand the mystery of the
+growing seed, or the greater mystery of the
+growing thought, but each individual can have
+such a love for childhood and its future that he
+will guard with jealous care each word that
+leaves his lip, determined that in the sowing
+nothing but good seed shall find lodgment in
+any heart. An evil thought planted in a child’s
+mind grows into a ruined life and blasted
+character. Let not even the idle word be an evil
+one for fear of the harvest. What an incentive to
+become good husbandmen planting righteous
+thoughts in the minds of childhood, looking
+forward to harvests that shall never end!</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_168"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 168" id="Page_168"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XXIV">XXIV<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+The Rosary of Tears</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">God</span> meant man to be happy. The sweetest
+music of this world is clear, ringing laughter.
+Beside its resonance the majestic voice of the
+cataract, the rolling melody of dashing billows,
+the gurgling ripple of the sun-kissed streams, the
+thrilling throb of the wild bird’s song, the merry
+chirp of the cheerful cricket, the lyric of the
+wind-tossed leaves are as nothing. Better one
+sudden, spontaneous outburst of childish
+laughter than all the symphonies and oratorios
+of the long centuries. Nothing can equal it. It
+comes with the spontaneity of a geyser, rolls
+out upon the atmosphere like a volley of salutes,
+thrills like martial music, its quick vibrations
+making the sunbeams tinkle like silver bells.
+It is contagious, causing the facial muscles of our
+friends to relax and begin to run and leap into
+the radiant smiles, their vocal cords to
+burst into song, and the whole world becomes a
+better and happier place for all mankind.</p>
+
+<p>As the sunshine makes battle with shadows,
+so men and women should wage warfare with
+everything that depresses. Children have a right<a href="#Page_169"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 169" id="Page_169"></span></a>
+to laugh, and youth has a right to rejoice in the
+morning light of life that floods the pathway
+with the bright and brilliant colorings of hope.
+We must not be too exacting with others,
+neither must we endeavor to abnormally repress
+our own feelings. There is a restraint that is
+not culture and a self-control that is not temperance.
+Some people would be far more honest
+in their dealings, and have better rating in their
+own community, if they did not exercise such
+an exacting self-control over their deep feelings
+of honesty, justice, and brotherly love. There is
+a boundless strength in emotion, therefore
+laughter and happiness are absolutely essential.
+Let happy hours be golden beads, which, strung
+upon the silken cord of memory, will become a
+rosary with which to count our prayers.</p>
+
+<p>Laughter is essential, because of its relationship
+to tears. In the truest sense pure tears and
+pure laughter are one. It requires a raindrop to
+reveal the hidden beauties of the sunbeam. Beholding
+the rainbow spreading its many-colored
+folds over the dark shoulders of the storm cloud,
+we utter exclamations of gladsome surprise.
+How marvelously beautiful it is! But every sunbeam
+would be a rainbow if only it had its
+raindrop through which to pass. It requires
+vapor to reveal the hidden depths and treasures
+of the sunbeam. Tears are to laughter what<a href="#Page_170"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 170" id="Page_170"></span></a>
+raindrops are to sunshine. They reveal the
+deeper meaning of our joys. Without them we
+should never appreciate or understand the
+brighter moments. When we count each hour
+of happiness as a golden bead, we must consider
+each teardrop as a crystal or polished diamond,
+to gleam upon the rosary of the heart.</p>
+
+<p>Sincerely pity the man who has lost the art
+of shedding tears, for he has, through self-control,
+restricted his emotions, so as to exclude
+life’s best experiences. Without a tear-moistened
+eye one cannot clearly comprehend the brightness
+of the sky, the majesty of the sea, the
+commanding splendor of the mountains, or the
+wealth of gold that lies buried in every human
+heart. Without tears one can never experience
+the rapturous joy of truest love or holiest
+patriotism. The greatness of the soul is measured
+by the depth of its emotions, and the extent
+of influence is determined by the readiness with
+which one permits the deep emotions to shed
+their glory.</p>
+
+<p>Herein is hidden a secret of triumphant power.
+The greatest victories are won, not by gun and
+cannon, but by deep emotions expressed in tear-dimmed
+eyes. Great achievements are wrought
+by men who can feel keenly and deeply. Behold
+Garibaldi conquering a great Italian city. A
+thousand soldiers, armed with rifles, and supported<a href="#Page_171"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 171" id="Page_171"></span></a>
+with heavy artillery, stood ready to
+oppose him. Commanding generals, with drawn
+swords, stood ready to give command to fire the
+moment he made his appearance. This was the
+day that he had announced that he would take
+the city. Hours passed and neither he nor his
+army came in sight. Finally, in the afternoon,
+amid a cloud of dust, a carriage is seen rapidly
+nearing the city. Every eye is strained to see
+its passenger, when lo, above the dust, rises the
+stalwart form of the great Italian. Without gun,
+sword, or protecting soldier, the great general
+who has come to take the city, is standing erect
+in an open carriage, his arms folded in peace.
+Each defending soldier is ready to obey command,
+but no command is given. In the presence
+of such remarkable courage each officer is
+motionless and speechless. No moment of
+Italian history was more tense. Suddenly some
+sympathizer shouted, “Viva la Garibaldi!” and
+in an instant every weapon is dropped and
+Garibaldi takes the city and holds it as his own.
+The power to advance in the face of great odds,
+with no weapon save a burning heart and tear-filled
+eyes, has wrought more victories than
+we know.</p>
+
+<p>To cry is not weakness, for tears are evidences
+of strong character. We have always loved
+Mark Twain, enjoying his travels as much as he,<a href="#Page_172"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 172" id="Page_172"></span></a>
+and laughing away dreary hours with his
+bubbling humor. But humor never revealed the
+true man he really was. It was not until his
+daughter died, and he sat all alone at home on
+Christmas day, amid the unopened gifts, and
+broken hopes of life, and wrote the matchless
+story of her death, that the world caught glimpse
+of the real Mark Twain. Beholding her lying
+there so quietly, he said: “Would I call her back
+to life if I could do it? I would not. If a word
+would do, I would beg for strength to withhold
+the word. And I would have the strength; I am
+sure of it. In her loss I am almost bankrupt, and
+my life is a bitterness, but I am content; for she
+has been enriched with the most precious of all
+gifts—that gift which makes all other gifts
+mean and poor—death.” It required the teardrop
+to reveal the real character of Mark Twain.</p>
+
+<p>While for our friends we would have nothing
+but golden hours, for ourselves the rosary of
+tears is the most precious treasure we possess.
+None other creates such a spirit of devotion,
+none other so thoroughly prepares us for conquest;
+none other opens the heart to those
+diviner emotions which should thrill the inner
+life of all. The golden beads will become tiresome,
+but the crystal rosary of tears will always
+be attractive. Count over its beads. There are
+the large, fast-falling tears of childhood. Tell<a href="#Page_173"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 173" id="Page_173"></span></a>
+them one by one, and behold how they bring
+back the holy memories and yearnings for childhood
+purity and childhood faith. Hold fast
+those blessed beads that were once kissed away
+by a mother’s lips, but still sparkle in the light
+of her precious love. There too are the glittering
+tears of youthful ambitions, when the heart
+burned with passion, the brain whirled with plans
+for conquest, and the eyes were moist with tears
+of hope. How precious those tears that have
+long since ceased to flow! But they are not lost.
+We still have them on our rosary when we offer
+prayer, and the touching of them revives our old-time
+hopes. There also are the tears of love.
+The busy, all-consuming fires of worldly ambition
+cannot dry them away. They gleam in the
+eye every time memory presents the portrait of
+that precious face. How wonderful to love
+until the eyes blind with tears of ecstasy!</p>
+
+<p>There too are the priceless tears of sympathy.
+The sight of another’s wrong or sorrow unloosed
+the fountains of the deep, and your heart responded.
+In order to right the wrong you gave
+yourself to work of reform, and made your
+influence a powerful factor in the remaking of
+the world. There, gleaming more beautiful than
+all, are the tears of sorrow. They were shed at
+the side of the grave; they came into the eye at
+the sight of an empty chair. How unbearable<a href="#Page_174"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 174" id="Page_174"></span></a>
+the world until relief came in a flood of tears!
+Only through tears do we find the sweetest
+comfort.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, our devotions become more helpful
+when we hold this rosary of priceless treasure.
+These beads can be purchased of no merchant;
+they cannot be blessed by any priest. They were
+wrought in the fires of our suffering, and, because
+we trusted him, they were blessed of God.
+They cannot heal the soul—only God can do
+that; but they help heal the soul by quickening
+our memories and reviving our past experiences.
+Let no one rob you of the beneficent influences
+of deep feelings, whether of joy or sorrow, for we
+are never so much in the spirit of prayer as when
+we hold in our hands the rosary of tears.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_175"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 175" id="Page_175"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XXV">XXV<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+The Hearthstone of the Heart</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">Speaking</span> to a young man who was about to
+assume the more weighty responsibilities of religious
+work and living, Paul bade him stir up
+the coals of genius, and build a fire of enthusiasm
+that would warm and set aglow with holy zeal
+his every endeavor. “I put thee in remembrance
+that thou stir up the gift of God, which is in
+thee.” As the housewife stirs the living coals
+out of the dead ashes of the old fireplace, and
+fans them until they glow with sparkling fervor,
+setting aflame the newly placed faggots, making
+the room radiant with good cheer as shadows
+dance along the walls and ice melts from the
+frost-screened windowpanes, so out of the dead
+ashes of past enthusiasm he was to stir up the
+living coals of his best gifts until they snapped,
+and sparkled, and burst aflame, filling the heart
+with brightness, and creating an atmosphere
+that would melt the ices of indifference from the
+windows of his soul, and give him a clear vision
+of a great wide world. Yea, as in the days of
+Paul, one would take a dying torch, and placing
+it to his lips, pour out his breath upon it until<a href="#Page_176"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 176" id="Page_176"></span></a>
+it burst in flame, that he might have a torch of
+burning fire to guide his footsteps through the
+darkness of the starless midnight or to flash a
+message to the people living upon the distant
+hilltop, or to kindle the fireplace wood until the
+cold corners of the house breathed a hearty
+welcome to the tired and frozen travelers, so the
+young man was to take the divine elements of
+the soul, breathe upon them the breath of prayer
+and devotion, until they blazed and burned and
+cast abroad their helpful influence.</p>
+
+<p>Within each human heart, however covered
+with the smothering ashes of sin, are God-made
+sparks of celestial fire that long to rise on wings
+of flame and make heroic battle with oppressive
+darkness. There are too many lives which,
+through carelessness, never burn bright, but,
+like smoldering flax, slowly eat themselves away,
+darkening and corrupting the very air they
+should illumine. When they began the Christian
+life they were radiant with hope, beaming
+with enthusiasm, and flashing with chivalric
+courage; but the spirit of worldliness choked
+and smothered them, until now, like the dead
+hearthstone of some shell-torn house upon the
+battle line, they offer to a worn-out world no
+hope of hospitality. To guard against this
+choking of the soul, this smoldering of genius,
+this reckless burning out of the priceless gifts of<a href="#Page_177"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 177" id="Page_177"></span></a>
+God, Paul urges all young men to stir up these
+coals and fan them into radiant and glowing
+character.</p>
+
+<p>It is not the will of God that any life be
+formal and indifferent. How much all forms of
+life, plant, and animal owe to the hidden fires
+within the bosom of the planet, no scientist has
+been bold enough to state; but this we know
+about mankind, without the inner fires of burning
+thought and all-consuming zeal there is no
+productivity. And no life need be cold-hearted.
+For the hearthstone of every heart there are
+three divine qualities that should burn with all
+the intensity and fervor as in the hearts of
+ancient seer and prophet.</p>
+
+<p>There is the quality of Faith that makes God
+real. To many people God seems so far away
+that it is an impossibility for him to be a very
+important factor in their daily lives. He is a
+sort of good-natured Generality, to whom they
+may address petitions of greater or less degree
+of piety, without fear of being embarrassed
+by an answer. Should it be announced with
+certainty that at a given time the accumulated
+prayers of a twelvemonth would be
+answered, fifty per cent of the people would be
+afraid to face the hour. Some have prayed for
+purity of heart, but if there is anything in the
+world that they do not want, it is purity of<a href="#Page_178"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 178" id="Page_178"></span></a>
+heart. Nothing would be more embarrassing to
+carry into their haunts of enjoyment and more
+difficult to explain to their companions. Others
+have prayed for God to accept them as living
+sacrifices, yet sainthood, to them, is as shocking
+as yellow fever. I once knew a man who prayed
+“Let justice rule supreme.” It is a pleasing
+phrase and a consummation to be devoutly
+wished for, but had it been answered in this
+particular case, the man who uttered the prayer
+would have gone to the penitentiary. Few
+people deny the existence of a God, but many
+live as though there were no God. But these are
+not the real lives. The men who really live and
+give a homelike feeling to the world are those
+who have stirred up the embers of their faith
+until they burn with an all-consuming warmth
+that makes God a guest of honor. To such souls
+God is marvelously real, and they rejoice to
+have him dwell within. When faith once lays
+hold on the Almighty no other experience is half
+so real. One needs read about it in no book,
+consult no priest or preacher, nor plead with
+friend to lend the information, for he knows it
+for himself. Sitting beside the hearthstone of a
+living, flaming faith, our hands feeling the
+pressure of that mighty Hand that never harms
+but always serves, our souls rejoice with unmeasured
+joy to realize that we are in the<a href="#Page_179"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 179" id="Page_179"></span></a>
+presence of God who knows and understands,
+and who not only walks the weary ways with
+us, but gladly dwells within.</p>
+
+<p>There is the quality of hope that makes
+heaven real. So long as hope burns within the
+heart there is no fear of winter winds, but when
+hope dies the soul dies. How gladly may old
+age look over the world in which it spent the
+four-seasoned life of toil! Here is the spring of
+life where the daisies grew and the cowslips
+scattered gold about the feet. Yonder the
+harvest fields of manhood’s power in which a
+bared arm of strength gathered the treasures of
+the soil while right merry thoughts centered
+upon a nearby cottage toward which he knelt
+each time he tied a band of gold about the
+garnered sheaf. Yonder the carefully planted
+violets grow upon a tiny mound, bright children
+of the sun making battle with the cold shadows
+of a marble slab. Now the autumn time of life
+fades into wintry quiet. The song of the brook
+is hushed beneath ever-thickening ice, the trees
+are robbed of color, the fields are trackless wastes
+of snow. The four seasons of life are growing
+to a close, the last afternoon is coming to its
+twilight, and yet one is not sad. The fires of
+hope still burn upon the hearthstone of the
+heart, and fill the soul with the light of its immortal
+home. Heaven is not a far-away land,<a href="#Page_180"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 180" id="Page_180"></span></a>
+vague with mystery, and dim with distance, but
+a place that is real and very close. We breathe
+its scented air, and bathe in its golden light
+while hope is burning divinely bright within our
+hearts.</p>
+
+<p>The hope of heaven does more than offer us
+compensation for the wrongs of life; it gives
+man an intelligent interpretation of the things
+of time. Until one believes his citizenship is in
+heaven he cannot intelligently perform his daily
+task. The painting that lacks perspective is a
+daub; the hopeless life is dismal failure. Therefore,
+as one prizes the best, he should stir up the
+gift of hope until heaven is as real as home.</p>
+
+<p>There is the quality of love that makes the
+world seem real. At the fireside of a loving
+heart, one readily learns the true secrets of the
+world in which he dwells. There is nothing so
+potent as love to give vision to the soul, clearness
+to the eye, effective service to the hand.
+Then stir up the gifts of love. Build in your
+heart the fires of a quenchless affection that
+refuses to believe the worst, that will never give
+consent that anyone has gone too far in sin for
+reclamation, but ever believes that one more
+touch of kindness will bring the person back to
+God; a love that gladly sacrifices everything of
+value in his effort to redeem that which has no
+value; a love that knows no selfish interest and<a href="#Page_181"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 181" id="Page_181"></span></a>
+daily seeks the welfare of another. Then will
+the world cease to be hazy and fantastic, but
+will be as real as the ones of your own household,
+who gather each evening hour about your fireside.</p>
+
+<p>Let not your love for one single individual die;
+it robs you of too great a joy. Warm up your
+hearts by allowing the fires of faith in God, hope
+of heaven, and love for all men to blaze and
+burn in high, exultant flames that know not
+how to die. Without it your life will be as
+barren as the deserted house through which the
+winter winds pass undisturbed. Make your life
+homelike by keeping bright the hearthstone of
+the heart.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><a href="#Page_182"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 182" id="Page_182"></span></a></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="XXVI">XXVI<span class="chdot">.</span><br/>
+
+The Unoared Sea</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="first-word">Each</span> one spends his childhood playing upon
+the golden sands of an unoared sea, over which
+in the after years he must find his way to shipwreck
+or safe harbor.</p>
+
+<p>How little does childhood in its helplessness
+know of life! Pleased with simple things, it
+greets the world with gladness, and shouts for
+very joy when finding a tinted shell or bit of
+seaweed. With spades of tin it undertakes to
+dig a hole “clear through the earth,” and smiles
+in contemplation of a vision of the Chinese sky.
+With chains of sand it undertakes to bind the
+rushing waters of the tide which granite cliff and
+flinty rock cannot subdue. The child undertakes
+great things while he himself is not strong
+enough to withstand the smallest wave, but,
+leaving his unfinished task, runs homeward at
+the coming of the tide. The waves roar with
+laughter and the spray sparkles with merriment
+as they destroy the feeble efforts of his puny
+hands. Childhood knows little of the unoared
+sea of life whose marvelous power of wave and<a href="#Page_183"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 183" id="Page_183"></span></a>
+tide threatens to destroy all the childish and
+manly efforts of his life.</p>
+
+<p>The desires of the sea may be fulfilled. With
+youthful enthusiasm and unguarded courage he
+may make fatal venture and be lost. There are
+many such of wholesome soul and worthy purpose
+whose most cherished hopes and plans
+came to shipwreck and disaster. The seas of life
+are strewn with wreckage. Yet one must not
+be pessimistic and forget that the raging sea is
+not omnipotent. With all its wild dashing
+waves and boisterous winds it is not as strong
+as that little lad may become. The weakest
+child may yet be able to dig a pit large and deep
+enough to bury all the swollen waves; and
+build a cable of sand strong enough to bind
+securely the rising and the falling tides. Some
+day, over the calm and quiet waters of a perfectly
+conquered sea, this tiny lad may pass into
+the harbor of safety and success.</p>
+
+<p>Man was not made for the sea, but the sea
+was made for man. Man was created with the
+gift of complete dominion over all the world in
+which he finds himself. Standing like a discoverer
+upon the shores of his own unoared sea
+of life, it is his to conquer, for each individual
+faces a sea newly created, whose waves have
+never been cut by the prow of any boat. No
+two people sail the same sea. Each person faces<a href="#Page_184"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 184" id="Page_184"></span></a>
+a life as original as it is unknown, but one that
+is singularly suited to himself. Age may be
+enriched with much dearly bought and valuable
+experiences, and be most helpful in counseling
+youth, but age can never fully understand the
+child, or youth, who stands upon the sun-kissed
+sands of the unoared sea of his own individual
+life. The beauty and pathos of life is that each
+one must solve the problem for himself.</p>
+
+<p>This does not mean that the training and
+counseling of youth should be neglected. The
+ennobling influences of a godly home with
+Christian parents; the steady, guiding hand of
+school and college; the inspiration of good books
+and imperial thinking, as well as the soul-strengthening
+forces of the church, are all of
+most vital importance. They should never be
+omitted from any life. These are things to which
+each child has an unquestioned right. All the
+forces for good, of earth and sea and sky, must
+be centered upon the ambitious but ofttimes
+thoughtless youth, that he may recognize and
+faithfully employ the agencies created for his
+service and success.</p>
+
+<p>The best that education can do is to help the
+individual to help himself. Education is not a
+compass by which to steer his craft; it is not the
+rudder that determines the course; neither is it
+the propelling power that drives it through the<a href="#Page_185"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 185" id="Page_185"></span></a>
+waves against an adverse wind. God has made
+especial provision for these equipments. The
+chart is the inspired Word; the compass, a
+divinely guided conscience; the rudder, a will
+surrendered fully to the will of God; while the
+power that propels lies in the skillful using of
+two plain oars that God has placed within his
+easy reach. Education is the intellectual training
+that enables him to use these agencies in the
+most efficient manner.</p>
+
+<p>Many centuries of experience and experiment
+have produced no labor-saving machinery for
+reaching the harbor of success. If one would
+make successful voyage, he must be willing to
+grasp the oars with his own hands, bend his
+back to heavy strain, employing all his mental,
+physical, and spiritual power to the task of
+making good. It is not a joy ride or a pleasure
+trip. There is a joy unspeakable in the task, but
+it comes not from without but from the consciousness
+within that one is winning in a moral
+strife. This consciousness will be found to be
+the chiefest of life’s joys. None shall excel it
+this side the welcome we shall receive when
+safely anchored in the presence of our God, and
+even then this consciousness will be the inspiration
+of the heavenly song. Life must be considered
+not so much a pleasure as a struggle,
+but a worthy struggle, that sends the blood<a href="#Page_186"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 186" id="Page_186"></span></a>
+tingling through the veins, and builds the tissues
+of a noble character.</p>
+
+<p>After the training in life’s fundamentals the
+choosing of the oars is the most important thing.
+The craft in which one sails is character, built
+to weather any storm on any wind-swept sea.
+The haven is God’s homeland of the soul. The
+oars are varied, and the success or failure of the
+voyage, the safety or shipwreck of character,
+a victorious landing or sinking beneath the
+waves of obscurity, depend entirely upon the
+choosing of these oars by means of which his
+life energies are to be directed.</p>
+
+<p>To this end all the educational influences of
+home and school and college must be directed.
+Youth must be taught the value of an intelligent
+choice of the instruments through which his
+powers shall flow. He must not be led by fancy
+or prejudice or by the words of dishonest men
+who have oars to sell. He must not choose by
+the color of the paint or beauty of their decorations.
+He must not listen to the honeyed words
+of an evil one whose sole purpose is his destruction.
+Leaving the sands of childhood and
+starting voyage upon the unoared sea of life is
+a moment in which all earth and heaven are
+concerned, and therefore the choice of oar must
+not be left to chance or fortune. He must know
+that all the proffered oars are not alike, and<a href="#Page_187"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 187" id="Page_187"></span></a>
+that false teachers profit from the wreckage of
+the boats they set adrift. He must know that a
+broken oar means a drifting boat, and that no
+drifting boat can ride a storm-tossed sea. All
+the difference between heaven and hell is in
+that moment of decision when he picks up his
+chosen oars and begins to use them as his own.</p>
+
+<p>There are two oars that never fail when once
+grasped by a hand that is firm and true. The
+first oar is called Virtue. With this oar of moral
+excellency, of pure heart and clean hands, with
+this oar of real integrity of character and purity
+of soul, man’s energies are never wasted as he
+makes battle against opposing powers. The real
+sinfulness of impurity is its resultant waste of
+strength. Behold the wan faces, sunken eyes,
+wasted energies, emaciated forms, staggering
+steps of weakness, and the uncertainty and indecision
+of character, and one sees the consequences
+of abusing the laws of purity. But
+virtue means more than purity of body, it means
+absolute cleanliness of heart and mind and
+purpose.</p>
+
+<p>The second oar is Righteousness. Unrighteousness
+is the abuse and waste of power. The
+New Testament word for sin is “missing the
+mark,” energy that is wasted by not being carefully
+and accurately directed. To be upright in
+life, free from wrong and injustice, to yield to<a href="#Page_188"><span class="pagenum" title="p. 188" id="Page_188"></span></a>
+everyone his just dues, is to have a means for
+directing strength and vital energy that never
+fails to bring the desired result.</p>
+
+<p>Two oars—“Virtue,” rightness with God;
+“Righteousness,” rightness with man—two oars
+that have never been known to break no matter
+how much a great soul bends them in his battle
+with the waves. Two oars that have never yet
+failed to bring the ship to harbor.</p>
+
+<p>This, then, is the opportunity of the church,
+not to manufacture oars, but to aid youth and
+maiden to choose the ones that God hath made.
+They are not new inventions, but as old as God
+and rugged as the Hand that made them.
+Firmly grasped and resolutely employed, the
+harbor is made in safety, although the voyage
+be upon a hitherto unoared sea.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<div class="chapter transnote">
+<h2>Transcriber’s Notes</h2>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_157">Page 157</a>, “robs his fellowman”
+changed to “robs his <ins>fellow man</ins>.”</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_173">Page 173</a>, “cannot dry them alway”
+changed to “cannot dry them <ins>away</ins>.”</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_180">Page 180</a>, “does more tnan offer”
+changed to “does more <ins>than</ins> offer.”</p>
+
+<p>Other oddities have been retained from the original printing,
+as it isn’t obvious what the author intended.</p>
+</div>
+
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