,-r ^ ■ s* ,& ^ -0' £* ^ ^ K v ^ . } •«V ■•«:*•.* .'Bi'.V -"Ili-, 1 dS o. % \> » * • ° , % \> * * * • -r % V V * * » t * -ay v %<* / ^1 k * .«* .%. /: %," "\^.„, c v > „ * * ,. ^ 15? vk j V* ^ ^ v ^ Y * ° /• ^j^ v v * * * o , ^ '^/^^^^ ^ s -^ . Q v v ^.d< s 4> % s* ^ j5 o. «■> Hi, % v v , ifO ^^ ■V,# *1 \ s? ^ •>SKP^'. f # ^ Ps\ f # ^ *> >-'-^ ; ->\- ,V'-V° ** 0" r ^.d< ^ 0" , **.*>* <> ^.# A . l!P <*> %0^ V Q>. ^T*s* .A« .4? ^ . % V ; "W V v * * * ° , ^ O* $- ^ ^0* % \%^ ?% * Jr ^ * s. THE Treasures of Time FOR OLD AND YOUNG FORMING AN ENCYCLOPEDIA OF THE WISEST WORDS OF THE WISEST MEN OF ALL AGES AND COUNTRIES, ON HOME AND BUSINESS TRAINING, SELF-HELP, CHARACTER, DUTY, THE SECRET OF SUCCESS, ETC.— PRESENT- ING IN SUGGESTIVE FORM THEIR IDEALS OF LIFE. A\ O. E. FULLER, M. A., Author of "The Year or Christ." For mine own part. I shall be g-lad to learn of noble men. — Shakespeare. CHICAGO: CO-OPERATIVE PUBLISHING HOUSE, 1882. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1882, by O. E FULLER, In the otiice of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. / s PREFACE. 'jTHE Situation," says Mr. Carlyle, " that has not its Duty, its Ideal, was never yet occupied by man." This fact implies at least two more : I. We succeed in any position just in proportion as we keep before us and seek to realize the Ideal of Excellence which that position requires. II. The man or woman without an Ideal is nothing but a weary, hopeless plodder. Appreciating, therefore, the importance of prop- er conceptions of Life in its manifold aspects, the Author and Editor of this volume has aimed ta construct a series of wholesome Ideals, or Patterns- of Life ; which, he trusts, will prove suggestive and* helpful to all who are preparing to take their place in the great arena of action, as also to those already in the midst of the battle : always striving to illustrate, in some sort, the greatness of Truth,. 11 the same yesterday, to-day, and forever." And since passages from Life's Drama are found, in the most eminent degree, along the trial- paths of the great Thinkers and Actors of the world, his chief reliance for material, after that afforded by the Divine Master, has been the out- come or record of their lives — " Lives spent in serving God Through labor for Humanity." Life is to labor where'er Duty f s voice May call, with strength to spurn the baser choice Aud who so triumphs, angels zvrite his name As one deserving more than mortal fame. The conflict is at hand! Take up thy shield, My sold! and to whatever battle-field Thou rangest, nerve thyself to courage there, And, flinging scorn upon that word Despair, Remember aye this verse of lofty cheer: The Helper yonder helps the helper her** CONTENTS. f*vi %h*i. Page Key-Notes 10 What to Live For Pursuit of the Ideal Duty Work Work and Worship , Life-Work .... Concentration . . , 11 18 24 27 30 32 42 .Prudence 45 Page 47 Perseverance . . . Economy 51 Labor and Greatness 57 Failures and Successes 63 Prayer 69 Faith 74 Hope ■ . . 77 Charity 80 The Day of Judgment 85 ynvi jSstattir. Key- Notes 90 God 91 The Second Man . . 94 Immanuel 100 Simplicity 103 Virtue 105 Goodness 108 Conscience , . . . Ill Truth and Obedience 114 Uprightness . Courtesy . . Courage . . Decision . . Character Common Sense Time. — A Ballad for New- Year Day . Eternity , . . . (v) 116 119 125 130 133 137 140 148 VI IDEALS OF LIFE. J?nrf (Spirit. Page Key-Notes . , . . 152 Page Sponge, or Fountain . 189 Education ..... 153 Home .... . 190 Teachers 160 Childhood . . . . 193 Books ...... 165 Plighted Love , . 197 Encouragement, or What I Wedded Love . . . 201 Carried to College 171 Children . . . . 206 Ambition 178 Woman's Work . . 211 Opportunities . . . 182 Health . . . . 220 Employment .... 185 Recreation . . . . 225 Jnti ^ottrifc* Key-Notes .... 232 The Two Helpers . 233 Purity 238 Food for the Soul . 245 Temptation .... 250 The Angel of Prayer 255 Tribulation .... 258 Gilead 260 Affliction ..... 262 DS Reformation . The Seven Woi Forgiveness . Sympathy . Repentance Forsaken . Spiritual Thirst Liff's Completion Death .... 268 276 278 282 288 291 296 300 306 Jtntt Wity. Key-Notes . . . . Immortality . . . . Personality Forever Satisfied The Riddle of the Sphinx .... Unbelief .... Under the Stars . . 316 317 326 333 337 342 The Flowers . . . 348 Wages of Sin . . . 352 Heaven 358 Hell 362 The Divine Law . . 365 Resignation .... 368 Life 371 In One 376 CONTEXTS. Vi-l 3?ari jMttfc Key-Notes .... The Beautiful Plant Brotherhood . . . Eloquence .... Fame Pastors 404 Zeal. ...... 406 Nature 408 Page 384 385 390 398 400 Page 414 Cheerfulness . . Competition .... 420 Cold- Water Pourers 425 Detraction .... 431 Temperance .... 435 Honesty 441 Devotion, or the Secret of Success . 445 ynvi £*tt*!tt$« Key-Notes . . . . 452 Truth 453 But One Physician . 460 Etches 464 Appreciation. . . . 468 Evil-Eyed .... 469 Greatness 470 Originality .... 474 Music 479 Confusion 482 Conversion .... 486 Imagination .... 489 The Great Stone Face 494 Patience . . . ... 496 Reward 499 fnti JHsW. Key-Notes .... 504 Learning 505 Money 510 Contentment. . . . 513 Transformations . . 517 Fate 521 Freedom 525 Action 528 The Soldier of Christ 533 Rest 535 Thanks 539 Prayers 544 Praises 560 Proverbs 563 Index of Authors . 575 Index of Subjects . 593 viii IDEALS OF LIFE. u$lmit0n$* Page 1. Morning Frontis-piece-. 2. " When I have idle been" 30 3. The Spendthrift 52 4. "Thou art the true and undefiled" 103 5. "The beauty of a wayside flower" 105 6. "The Hours swept on in their rapid flight" . . . 1J/.1 7. "God's music round the common hearth" .... 191 8. "Dear Recreation claims her hour" 225 9. "Behold this angel — not one in disguise — " . . . 231/. 10. "Is there any ease from my pain to be had?" . . 260 11. "By and by another sleep" 333 12. "And with their vernal beauty rife" 348 13. Nooning 386 14- " The river of beneficence to man " 44& 15. "What though the venerable oak be broken" . . . ^55 16. "Let crimson Battle tread on many a bosom" . . . 460 17. "The major notes and minor" 479 18. "He is the rainbow of the heart" .,,.... 517 19. "The thread of life will soon be wound" .... 552 20. "There remaineth therefore a rest to the people of God" 567 Iff Jiwt, S*p-S°* c §- ILo, I come to do Thy will, O God. — Hebrews, x. 9. Men must know that in this theatre of human life it remaineth only to God and the angels to be lookers-on. — Lord Bacon. It is an uncontroverted truth that no man ever made an ill figure who understood his own talents, nor a good one who mistook them. — Dean Swift. I have never known an individual, least of all an individual of genius, healthy or happy without a profession, i. e„ some regular employment, which does not depend on the will of the moment, and which can be carried on so far mechanically, that an average quantum only of health, spirits and intellectual exertion are requisite to its faithful discharge. — Coleridge. Time and patience change the mulberry leaf to satin. — Oriental Proverb. Do what thou dost as if the earth were heaven, And that thy last day were the judgment day. — Charles Kingsley. (10) Treasures of Time. JJjhI k Jthtt "Irm, ^HROUGH purity and strength of will ^ To work to some high mark, Which in the heavens is shining still When all below is dark. The Ideals of Life, which Wisdom has hung out in the firmament of Humanity, are like the stars in multitude. Like the stars, too, they have a common centre, around which they revolve, and from which they derive their glory. And that centre is the life-giving Ideal suggested by the pro- phetic announcement, " Lo, I come to do Thy will, O God," rounded by these other words of the Divine Man, " My meat is to do the will of Him that sent me and to finish His work." Work is the essence of all wholesome Ideals, heaven-appointed work, of the heart, of the brain, of the hands ; Something to be done, Something to be won ; (ii) 12 IDEALS OF LIFE. and under the Eye which is always a glory to the diligent and a terror to the idle. Work, glorified as duty, is the perennial foun- tain of happiness, and the source of all that is excellent in the earth. " There is always hope in a man," says Mr. Carlyle, " that actually and earn- nestly works. In idleness alone is there perpetual despair." Work is the law of our being — the living prin- ciple that carries men and nations onward. The greater number of men have to work with their hands, as a matter of necessity, in order to live : but all must work in one way or another, if they would enjoy life as it ought to be enjoyed. Labor may be a burden and a chastisement, but it is also an honor and a glory. Without it nothing can be accomplished. All that is great in man comes through work, and civilization is its product. Were labor abolished, the race of Adam were at once stricken by moral death. It is idleness that is the curse of man — not labor. Idleness eats the heart out of men as of nations, and consumes them as rust does iron. When Alexan- der conquered the Persians, and had an opportunity of observing their manners, he remarked that they did not seem conscious that there could be anything more servile than a life of pleasure, or more princely than a life of toil. When the Emperor Severus lay on his death- bed at York, whither he had been borne on a litter from the foot of the Grampians, his final watchword WHAT TO LIVE FOE. 13 co his soldiers was, " Laboremtis" (we must wor and nothing but constant toil maintained the power and extended the authority of the Roman generals. In describing the earlier social condition of Italy, when the ordinary occupations of rural life were considered compatible with the highest civic dignity, Pliny speaks of the triumphant generals and their men returning contentedly to the plough. In those days the lands were tilled by the hands even of generals, the soil exulting beneath a ploughshare crowned with laurels, and guided by a husbandman graced with triumphs : " Ipsorum tunc manibus im- peratorum colebantur agri : ut fas est credere gau- dente terra vomere laureate et triumphale aratore." It was only after slaves became extensively em- ployed in all departments of industry that labor came to be regarded as dishonorable and servile. And so soon as indolence and luxury became the characteristics of the ruling classes of Rome, the downfall of the empire, sooner or later, was inevit- able. — Samuel Smiles. Happiness, prosperity and safety in any attained position depend upon work, which, of some sort or other, may be pursued by even* member of the race. " "We are not born," says Goethe, " to solve the problem of the universe, but to find out what we have to do, and to confine ourselves within the limits of our power of comprehension.'' And we need not go far to make the discovery. Providence reveals to every man, who has eyes to see and ears to hear, his proper work. And then the mark of honor and glory is to do it faithfully. 14 IDEALS OF LIFE. I have always remembered something I heard many years ago of die late Mr. Gray, of Boston, "Billy Gray," as he was commonly called, who from nothing made a vast estate. Standing one day on the deck of one of his numerous ships, he observed t a carpenter busy at some matter of repairs. " Johnny Thompson," said he, " why do you not do it so in- stead of the way you are doing it ? " " Billy Gray," replied the man, " why do you speak so to me ? Don't I remember you when you were nothing but a poor drummer-boy? " " Ah," rejoined Mr. Gray, "ah, Johnny Thompson, but didn't I drum well?" I have thought of this a thousand times, for there is a great deal in it. To do well what we have to do,, this sums up the whole practical end of living. The honest purpose and endeavor to do so puts every- one on an equal footing of worthiness. It is the secret of acceptable goodness, and the secret also of happiness. All true 'happiness, all that is worth the name, lies in a harmony between the spirit of our life and the duties of our place in life. One of the pleasantest sights of serene happi- ness I ever saw was an old woman, whose life was narrowed down and restricted by infirmity to the sole activity of sitting in an arm-chair by the fireside of a humble dwelling and knitting and mending the stockings of the children and grandchildren that could play and work. Thankful for the arm-chair and the clean-swept hearth, she passed her con- tented and cheerful days in doing well what she could do. To me that old arm-chair was trans- WHAT TO LIVE FOR. 15 figured to a throne of glory more to be envied than an imperial throne filled by a selfish, ambitious monarch, and a divine radiance invested its occu- pant and all her homely implements and humble industry that outshone the glitter and the glare of golden sceptres and jewelled swords of state. To do our duty well — whatever it be, whether to^ sweep the streets, to saw wood, or grind knives, whatever lowliest work it be — to do it well, to do- it in a sense of duty, unites us to the Highest One by a bond that nothing can break, gains us a posi- tion in the infinite spiritual universe, from which nothing can cast us down. We may not have received ten talents, nor two, nor even one, but only a very small fraction of one. No matter, if faithful, we shall live to just as good a purpose, so far as our worthiness is concerned, as though we had a million talents and improved them all. The poorest cobbler who, in a dutiful spirit, out of love to God and man, does the work of his calling, is just as acceptable as the righteous ruler of the greatest kingdom on the earth, just as acceptable as the highest archangel that stands before the Throne of the universe, or flies on flaming wings to carry the orders of his Sovereign to the armies of Heaven that have their stations among the stars. — C. S. Henry. To do our duty in that station of life into which it has pleased God to call us, is the infinite thing to* live for : which is full of blessed realities in the pres- ent, and prophetic of an ever-brightening future, 16 IDEALS OF LIFE. 11 Forgetting those things which are behind," how- ever pleasant they have been, the diligent doer of duty has but one aim, and that is to press for- ward. Every young man, as he stands on the threshold of life, preparing to step forward into the vague, uncertain future, may take to his heart the trumpet- like words of Saint Simon: "L'age d'or, qu'une aveugle tradition a place jusqiiici dans la passe, .est devant nous" — (The golden age, which a blind tradition has hitherto placed in the past, is before us). What has been possible to our fellows is possible to us, and something, perhaps, which never was by them achieved. Hope is ours, and love, and truth, and honor ; high aspiration and earnest prayer ; the consciousness of a battle well fought and a victory well won. The race may be a long one, and the way rugged and thorny, but mayhap there are flowers in many a bosky nook, and we shall feel, though we may not discern, the presence of the angels like a soundless wind on a summer sea. We have only to take heart and work. We know the conditions of success — diligence and pa- tience, and a firm purpose and a lofty aim, self-reli- ance, courage, self-denial, self-elevation. These are within our reach if we submit to the necessary dis- cipline. And why should we not ? Is not this life the vestibule of eternity, and shall we neglect or despise it as a thing worthless and wearisome ? Do we not know it to be the training place of our spir- itual nature ? Do we not know that the faculties WHAT TO LIVE FOR. 17 cultivated here will grow into a glorious fruition hereafter ? Ah, the nobleness of labor ! How it develops the thought, how it braces up the soul, how it crushes back the evil impulse ! When we bethink ourselves of the pleasure it yields, of the moral elevation which it involves, we are lost in wonder at the infatuation of the fools who idly turn from it to expend their lives in luxurious indulgence. But when we speak of labor we mean something more than the occupation of the business day, some- thing more than the toil that properly belongs to our respective callings; we mean that general pro- cess of culture by which mind, soul and body alike are benefited ; we mean all that assiduous prepara- tion and finish which carefully occupies the hours not devoted to amusement or repose. Our com- plex humanity has many sides, all of which demand our assiduous vigilance ; this vigilance we regard as part and parcel of our daily duty. — W. H. D. Adams. Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toil- worn craftsman that with earth-made implement laboriously conquers the earth and makes her man's. Venerable to me is the hard hand, crooked, coarse, wherein notwithstanding lies a cunning vir- tue, indefeasibly royal, as if the sceptre of this planet Toil on, toil on ; thou art in thy duty, be out of it who may ; thou toilest for the altogether indispensable, for daily bread. A second man I honor, and still more highly : .him who is seen toiling for the spiritually indispen- IS IDEALS OF LIFE. sable, not daily bread, but the bread of life. Is not he, too, in his duty ; endeavoring towards inward harmony ; revealing this by act or by word, through all his outward endeavors, be they high or low. Highest of all, when his outward and his inward endeavors are one ; when we can name him artist ; not earthly craftsman only, but inspired thinker, who with heaven-made implement conquers heaven for us ! — Carlyle. JPttrsitH ofj i\t %fod* Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, Fair as the moon, Clear as the sun, And terrible as an army with banners ? — Song of Solomon, tv. io» ,J)NE who holds my heart forever, <2x^ And I bless her night and day: Night and day where'er I wander, She is ever on my way. Tender maiden, watchful maiden, Friend to me she is alway, And with countenance angelic All my baser thoughts doth fray. PURSUIT OF THE IDEAL. 19, Now she chides me and she guides me, If by chance I go astray: Then she scorns me and she warns me, If to rest my head I lay. Purer than the virgin dew-drops, And more beautiful than they, Clothed she is in lily-meekness And a youth forever May. Who would not rejoice to woo her, Who is clad in such array? Who would not rejoice to win her, Who may never know decay? Fairer maiden, rarer maiden, Poet never may portray ; Purer maiden, truer maiden, Never dwelt in mortal clay. And such charms she always weareth, And so modest to display ! Oh my airy, fairy maiden Over me hath perfect sway ! Should King Oberon, the Fairy, Haply from his kingdom stray, And be questioned if he love her, He could never answer nay ; Such his eager heart to woo her, And her to his realm convey, 20 J DEALS OF J JFK. Where her beauty would enthrone her Queen of every elf and fay. Oh, her smile to me is better Than the sparkle of Tokay, And the sweetness of her silence Than all harems of Cathay. But. ah me ! she e'er so coy is — And I always hate delay — Oft my heart grows dark within me, Void of hope's celestial ray. For when I would fain embrace her, Blushingly she flits away, Darting, glancing like a sunbeam, As if mocking my dismay ; Leaving me, and then returning, Like the sunlight in the spray ; And my soul is half distracted With such Tantalus-survey. Why will not the cruel maiden Once my beauty- thirst allay? Doth she stoop at last to vengeance, Dooming me a castaway ? Airy maiden, fairy maiden, Do not keep me thus at bay ; Linger yet a little, maiden ; Maiden, yet a little stay. PURSUIT OF THE IDEAL. 21 Ah, she will not deign to listen, Though I sue and I inveigh ; Ah, she will not deiom to listen Doth she, then, my love repay ? If I ask her if she love me, Blushing, she will nothing say, Nothing answer to convince me, Nothing, neither nay or yea. But retreating, softly fleeting, Like a rainbow, heavenly gay, She doth call me, she doth call me, And I cannot but obey. And as bold and eager -hearted As a school -boy, who at play Bright -hued butterflies in chasing O'er the fragrant, new -mown hay, Vexed, successless, yet determined On the capture of his prey, Which allures him and eludes him, Follow softly as he may ; I pursue my airy maiden From the morning twilight grey, Till the mists of evening gather, And no conquest doth defray All my yearnings and my heart- beats, For she every art doth slay. 22 IDEALS OF LIFE. Yet with new and light endeavor, To allure her I essay, Purposing no base inaction And no sluggard's welaway, Till I touch the happy altar, Crowned on with the fadeless bay. And I think my heart grows better, And I count not what I pay For the airy chase and earthly, Where she seemeth to betray ; For I feel if here I never Win my maiden, as I pray, I shall in yon sphere eternal Prosper in her love for aye ; Where the splendor of the virgin Satisfies the heart straightway, And all work is but the rhythm Of a blessed holiday, But the worship and the freedom Of a blessed holy -day; And the rhyme that never changes, Fringes the Celestial Lay. Too late did I love Thee, O Fairness, so ancient and yet so new ! Too late did I love Thee ! For behold, Thou wert within, and I without, and there did I seek Thee ; I, unlovely, rushed heedlessly PURSUIT OF THE IDEAL. 23 among the things of beauty Thou madest. Thou wert with me, but I was not with Thee. Those things kept me from Thee, which, unless they were in Thee, were not. Thou calledst, and criedest aloud, and forcedst open my deafness. Thou didst gleam and shine, and chase away my blindness. Thou didst exhale odors, and I drew in my breath, and do pant after Thee. I tasted, and do hunger and thirst. Thou didst teach me, and I burn for Thy peace. — St. Augustine. The Situation that has not its Duty, its Ideal, was never yet occupied by man. Yes here, in this poor, miserable, hampered, despicable Actual, wherein thou even now standest, here or nowhere is thy Ideal : work it out therefrom ; and working, believe, live, be free. Fool ! the Ideal is in thyself, the impediment, too, is in thyself: thy Condition is but the stuff thou art to shape that same Ideal out of: what matters whether such stuff be of this sort or that, so the Form thou give it be heroic, be po- etic ? O, thou that pinest in the imprisonment of the Actual, and criest bitterly to the gods for a kingdom wherein to rule and create, know this of a truth : the thing thou seekest is already with thee, " here or nowhere," couldst thou only see i — Carlyle. We cannot understand the Actual of a character or system without in some degree entering into its Ideal. — Miss Greenwell. All visible greatness grows in looking at an in- visible that is greater. — James Martineau. 24 IDEALS OF LIFE. lilt H yl?HE petty Done, the Undone vast **^ So once a Poet sung, By both the Present and the Past Upraided, goaded, stung. And it were well if all had eyes To see the Infinite, Humbled, exalted, and grown wise In all-enfolding light. And it were well if all 'had pain Which passes human speech, In view of all there is to gain, Not yet within their reach. But eyes and pain with valiant heart, Abashed by no "Too late," To choose Eternal Duty's part Where no accusers wait. — Duty ! wondrous thought, that workest neither by fond insinuation, flattery, nor by any threat, but merely by holding up thy naked law in the soul, and so extorting for thyself always reverence, if not always obedience ; before whom all appetites are dumb, however secretly they rebel. — Kant. Duty is far more than love. It is the upholding law through which the weakest become strong, with- DUTY. 25. out which all strength is unstable as water. No character, however harmoniously framed and glori- ously gifted, can be complete without this abiding principle : it is the cement which binds the whole moral edifice together, without which all power, goodness, intellect, truth, happiness, love itself, can have no permanence ; but all the fabric of existence crumbles away from under us, and leaves us at last sitting" in the midst of a ruin, — astonished at our own desolation. — Mrs. Jameson. Duty is based upon a sense of justice — -justice inspired by love, which is the most perfect form of goodness. Duty is not a sentiment, but a principle pervading the life: and it exhibits itself in conduct and in acts, which are mainly determined by man's conscience and freewill. — Smiles. Everybody ought to have a flag — something sa- cred, something to live by and die by, convictions that one is not only not ashamed of, but counts it an honor and a glory to avow. Everybody should carry his flag aloft and unfurled^ ready to main- tain and defend it, to suffer and to die for it if need be. The man who has no flag, or does not carry it unfurled where duty, honor and manliness bid him do so, is a thoroughly base and mean man. He is fit neither to live nor to die. So far from havino- anything heroic in him, he lacks the essential ingre- dients of tolerable respectability of character. What is the worth of a man who does not prefer duty to life ? Just nothing at all, or at best he is good for nothing but to eat, drink, make money perhaps, and 26 WEALS OF LIFE. then moulchr to dust. Thousands of men and women — soldiers, sailors, medical men, fathers, mothers, nurses — do their duty every day in peril of their lives. They are not canonized for it, but they would be thought meanly of if they did it not.' How universally the cowardice that shrinks from dangerous duty is despised. — C. S. Henry. Remember your honor, which raises you above fortune and above kings ; by that alone, and not" by the splendor of titles, is glory acquired — that glory which it will be your happiness and pride to trans- mit unspotted to your posterity. — Vittoria Co- lonna. My brother, the brave man has to give his Life away. Give it, i advise thee ; — thou dost not ex- pect to sell thy Life in an adequate manner ? What price, for example, would content thee? The just price of thy Life to thee, — why, God's entire Crea- tion to thyself, the whole Universe of Space, the whole Eternity of Time, and what they hold : that is the price which would content thee ; that, and if thou wilt be candid, nothing short of that ! It is thy all ; and for it thou wouldst have all. Thou art an unreasonable mortal ; — or, rather, thou art a poor, infinite mortal, who, in thy narrow clay-prison here, seemest so unreasonable ! Thou wilt never sell thy Life, or any part of thy Life, in a satisfactory man- ner. Give it, like a royal heart; let the price be nothing : thou hast then, in a certain sense, got All for it ! — Carlyle. I become more and more alive to the happiness WORK. 27 which consists in the fulfillment of Duty, I believe there is no other so deep and so real. There is only one great object in the world which deserves our efforts, and that is, the good of mankind. — De TOCQUEVILLE. " The word Duty," said George Wilson, a dis- tinguished professor in the University of Edinburgh, when almost worn out in faithful work, " The word Duty seems to me the biggest word in the world, and is uppermost in ail my serious doings." . mm k m\ LITTLE birds of grace, <2x ^ How in my work ye sing ! Ye make my heart your nesting - place, And all your gladness bring. When ye are in my heart, How swiftly pass the days ! The fears and doubts of life depart And leave the room to praise. My work I find like play, And all day long rejoice ; 28 IDEALS OF LIFE, But if I linger on my way, I hear this warning voice : With fervor work and pray, And let not coldness come ; Or birds of grace will fly away To seek a warmer home. We enjoy ourselves only in our work, in our doings ; and our best doing is our best enjoyment. — Jacobi. I have fire-proof, perennial enjoyments, called employments. — Richter. Wouldst thou discover Nature's true path to happiness ? Listen to her first command : Labor ! The hours fly swiftly to him who has daily occu- pation ; a lifetime creeps slowly away with the idle. — Leopold. All the virtues and joys of life grow up in labor; only through labor does a human being become truly a man. . . . Work and love, — these are the body and soul of human being ; happy is he with whom they are one. — Auerbach. The very exercise of industry immediately in itself is delightful, and hath an innate satisfaction which tempereth all annoyance, and even ingratia- teth the pains going with it. — Barrow. It sweeteneth our enjoyments, and seasoneth our attainments with a delightful relish. — Barrow. Is the world a great harmonious organ, where all parts are played, and where all play parts : and must thou alone sit and hear it ? — Dr. Donne. WORK. 29 There is no spirituality at all without use. Spirituality begins, continues, and culminates in use. To be genuinely useful, in any way, is to be so far spiritual. To be nobly, comprehensively, humanly useful, is to be spiritual in a grand way. O. B. Frothingham. Work in every hour, paid or unpaid. See only that thou work, and thou canst not escape the reward. Whether thy work be fine or coarse, planting corn or writing epics, so only it be honest work, done to thine own approbation, it shall earn a reward to the senses as well as to the thoughts. The reward of a thing well done is to have done it. — Emerson. A man should inure himself to voluntary labor, and should not give up to indulgence and pleasure ; as they beget no good constitution of body, nor knowledge of the mind. — Socrates. Employment, which Galen calls " nature's physi- cian," is so essential to human happiness that indo- lence is justly considered the mother of misery. — Robert Burton. The wise prove, and the foolish confess, by their conduct, that a life of employment is the only life worth leading. — Paley. £0 IDEALS OF LIFE. Hjork tmb llfarsljrjt. |7[?0 labor is to pray, ^ As some dear saint has said ; And with this truth for many a day Have I been comforted. The Lord has made me bold When I have labored most, And with His gifts so manifold Has given the Holy Ghost. When I have idle been Until the sun went down, Mine eyes so dim have never seen His bright, prophetic crown. O praise the Lord for work Which maketh time so fleet, In which accusers never lurk, Whose end is very sweet. - There is a perennial nobleness, and even sacred- ness, in Work. Were he never so benighted, for- getful of his high calling, there is always hope in a man that actually and earnestly works : in Idleness alone is there perpetual despair. Work, never so Mammonish, mean, is in communication with Na- ture ; the real desire to get Work done will itself " When I have idle been Until the sun went down, Mine eyes so dim have never seen His bright, prophetic crown." WORK AND WORSHIP. 31 lead one more and more to truth, to Nature's ap- pointments and regulations, which are truth. The latest Gospel in this world is, Know thy work and do it. 'Know thyself:' long enough has that poor 'self of thine tormented thee; thou wilt never get to ' know ' it, I believe ! Think it not thy business, this of knowing thyself; thou art an un- knowable individual : know what thou canst work at ; and work at it, like a Hercules ! That will be thy better plan. It has been written, 'an endless significance lies in Work ; ' a man perfects himself by working. Foul jungles are cleared away, fair seed-fields rise instead, and stately cities ; and withal the man him- self first ceases to be a jungle and foul, unwhole- some desert thereby. Consider how, even in the meanest sorts of Labor, the whole soul of a man is composed into a kind of real harmony the instant he sets himself to work ! Doubt, Desire, Sorrow, Remorse, Indignation, Despair itself, all these, like hell-dogs, lie beleaguering the soul of the poor day- worker as of every man ; but he bends himself with free valor against his task, and all these are stilled, all these shrink murmuring far off into their caves. The man is now a man. The blessed glow of Labor in him, is it not as purifying fire, wherein all poison is burnt up, and of sour smoke itself there is made bright, blessed flame ! — Carlyle. All true Work is Religion : and whatsoever Re- ligion is not Work may go and dwell among the Brahmins, Antinomians, Spinning Dervishes, or 32 IDEALS OF LIFE. where it will ; with me it shall have no harbor. Admirable was that of the old Monks, ' Labor are est Orare' (Work is Worship). — Carlyle. All true Work is sacred ; in all true Work, were it but true hand labor, there is something of divine- ness. Labor, wide as the Earth, has its summit in Heaven. Sweat of the brow ; and up from that to sweat of the brain, sweat of the heart, which in- cludes all Kepler calculations, Newton meditations, all Sciences, all spoken Epics, all acted Heroisms, Martyrdoms, — up to that ' Agony of bloody sweat,' which all men have called divine ! O, brother, if this is not 'worship,' then, I say, the more pity for worship ; for this is the noblest thing yet discov- ered under God's sky. Who art thou that corn- plainest of thy life of toil ? Complain not. Look up, my wearied brother ; see thy fellow- workmen there, in God's Eternity ; surviving there, they alone surviving ; sacred Band of the Immortals, celestial Bodyguard of the Empire of Mankind. — Carlyle. * Jftfe-^o^L f^ES, I have found the work at last "^ Which Providence alone forecast; LIFE- WOHK. 33 And nevermore for me is rest, Save when I labor at my best. Dear younger brother, wouldst thou know The way the Master loves to show His will and wish? The search is vain, Unless it be through toil and pain. There is no easy lesson here Where wisdom lingers many a year. Most their vocation never know, Since wisdom comes so slow, so slow ! Discerning not the will of God, They walk the way the fathers trod, And He who marks the sparrow's fall, Observes His lowly children all. But thou of hunger hast the smart Pent up within a conscious heart. God's providence is speaking there, Telling what thou shouldst do and dare. Be bold to heed the silent voice And crucify each meaner choice ; Or else forever lose the place Assigned thee in the realm of Grace. God speaks not many times to those To whom His will He would disclose. Have they, alas, no ears to hear, No more, no more He draweth near. 34 IDEALS OF LIFE. He needs thee not against thy will, Thy little place His hand can fill. From stones can He, of old I AM, Raise children unto Abraham. So thou, thy work to know and do, Must unto Providence be true, And heed the signals and the signs, Although the light but dimly shines. What though the signs are not so plain As to shut out all doubt and pain ? The doubt and pain will not grow less While thou remain'st in idleness. What if the signals be but faint, And in thy heart there is complaint? Ah, they will all the fainter be During thine inactivity. When once the signal voice is heard, And the unfathomed heart is stirred To action, we have found the way Where life is greater than to-day, (However vast its treasures be) And boldly claims eternity. Henceforth we no more reckon worth By the arithmetic of earth. The great is small, the small is great, Often in after estimate, LIFE-WORK. 35 And nobler aims and visions rise What time we see with other eyes. "Hast thou despised the little things ? Know thou the smallest duty brings A prophecy of coming time, For thee ignoble or sublime. The gifts of God thou dost not use, Little or great, thou dost abuse. What if — the forfeit comes at last — From thee be taken what thou hast ? Thy sacred trusts each day increase : Evening shall bring a psalm of peace, And in a broader circle shine The lantern of the Word Divine. The blessed things of God no more Shall be as shadow, as before, But real, precious, and sublime, To grow more fair by use and time. Stand still, the darkness on thy track Pushes no more its column back. Halt not, the light gleams wide and far, And thine is an unsetting- star. There always will be clouds. Thy mark May sometimes vanish in the dark. What then ? Wilt thou at this despair ? It is thy trial — oh beware ! 36 IDEALS OF LIFE. Renew thy faltering zeal and trust The Lord, O creature of the dust. Young faith will perish in the night, If thou dost only walk by sight. Without the sun, the air, the earth, The seed comes not unto its birth ; Its hidden power of life will die, Or dormant in its prison lie. Without the word and deed, the thought Is to no blessed uses brought, But quickly withers from the soul, Evanishing beyond control. Act to the purpose of thy heart, And Providence, with wondrous art, Shall fashion it to beauty there, Transmuting all thy work and prayer, Till it shall come to be thy life, Grown strong in every manly strife, And, when the time is ripe, approve Thee for the Master's work of love. — If you desire to represent the various parts in life by holes in a table of different shapes, — some circular, some triangular, some square, some oblong — and the persons acting these parts by bits of wood of similar shapes, we shall generally find that the triangular person has got into the square hole, the oblong into the triangular, while the LIFE-WORK. 37 square person has squeezed himself into the round hole. — Sydney Smith. The errors committed in the choice of a voca- tion are sometimes amusing, or would be so if we could forget how serious might have been their consequences. The parents of Claude Lorraine, who divides with our own Turner the supremacy in landscape - painting, would have made him a pastry-cook! His brother was a little keener of insight, for he took him from the pastry-cook's into his own shop, a wood-carver's ; and in this kind of work there was at least more room for the development of his artistic faculty. Turner was intended by his father for the respectable but inglorious trade of a barber. One day, how- ever, a design of a coat-of-arms w T hich the boy had scratched on a silver salver attracted the at- tention of a customer whom his father was shav- ing, and he was so struck by its promise that he strongly recommended the latter not to inter- fere with his son's evident bias. The lover of art almost shudders at the thought of what the world would have lost had Claude continued a pastry - cook, and Turner shaved the bristling chins of his father's patrons. — W. H. D. Adams. No doubt parents and guardians have often made mistakes ; but far more numerous have been the mistakes of young men whom an im- prudent ambition or a greed of gain has led into paths they were incompetent to tread success- fully. As a rule, it is always best to accept and 38 IDEALS OF LIFE. act upon the advice of our elders. The avoca- tion may be uncongenial, and after a while it may appear plainly unsuitable. It will then be open to us to seize the first opportunity of choosing another career, if this can be done without injury. Intarrces there will always be, similar to those we have already set before the reader, of a strong and masterful talent asserting itself in the face of every discouragement, and seeking and finding its natural and legitimate outlet. But let us re- member with humility that such talent is given to very few, and with gratitude that Heaven esti- mates our life-work not by its brilliancy but by its honesty. If we do our duty, it matters not whether we be the leaders in the fore front of the battle, or only the rank and file. In fixing upon a pursuit, let us, therefore, be guided by nobler thoughts than those of ambition, emulation or envy. Let us bethink ourselves of the old saying that the greatest man is he who chooses right with the most unconquerable resolution ; who withstands the sorest temptations within and with- out ; who patiently bears the weightiest burdens ; who is calmest in the storm, and most fearless under frown and menace; whose faith in truth, in virtue, in God, is most unfaltering. We can- not all be great sculptors, painters, musicians, men of letters or successful merchants or wealthy manufacturers. The dishonor and the failure do not lie in the choice of a lowly trade, or even in the unfortunate selection of the wrong vocation; LIFE- WORK. 39 they lie in our not doing the work before us with all our might. It is no disgrace to be a shoemaker ; but it is a shame for a shoemaker to make bad shoes. — W. H. D. Adams. " Blessed is he," says Carlyle, " who found his work," and, it should be added, who resists all temptations and persuasions to abandon it. For a man's true work is as sacred as his life ; and should never be relinquished but with his life. The following parable is a good illustration : — There were, once upon a time, two men who were friends, but whose characters and pursuits in life were different. The one was a lover of Beauty, the other a lover, as he said, of Use. The latter had given up his life to "practical purposes ; " he had built houses for the poor, he had arranged the sanitary measures of a city, he had visited the prisons and hospitals, and had toiled to save disease and crime. And his char- acter and strength were suited to this work, so that he did it well. The other had spent his life in examining the Beautiful ; he had studied its laws in nature and art, and he devoted himself in retirement to ex- pressing what he had discovered in the most beautiful manner possible : his enthusiasm pushed him to think that men would be interested in his work, and his aim was to awaken in the world the love of Beauty by giving a high and noble pleasure. He did not care to teach morality as the first thine, but to make beautiful things fa- 40 IDEALS OF LIFE. miliar ; and by bringing these beautiful things before men, to refine imaginations not as yet re- fined, till they could see the more ideal beauty. This being his work, and his character and phy- sical temper being suited to it, he did it well, and he did nothing else. He did not visit the poor, nor was he seen in hospitals. His money was spent on beautiful things such as he wanted for his work, not on sanitary improvements and model cottages. With this life and with this expenditure his friend became angry. ' What !' he said, ' will you make poems while famine is making death ? The poor are perishing ; God's children are be- ing done to death ; disease and crime are de- vouring the nation, and you sit still in your poetic and artistic leisure, producing only words. Throw away all this useless work, attack evil, expose oppression, cleanse the foul dwelling, see and realize what poverty and pain mean. To what purpose is this waste ? Those things which you call beautiful might be sold for much money and given to the poor.' So he spake in his dark anger ; and the spirit of his friend was moved, and he went forth to the rude work of the world. It sickened and dismayed him ; his poet- ical power went from him ; his faculty for reveal- ing the Beautiful passed away ; his delicacy and sympathy caused him to break down in contact with crime and disease. He tried hard, but it was a failure ; his life was ruined and no good LIFE-WORK. 41 was done. He could not do his friends work, and trying to do it, he ceased to be able to do his own. — Stopford A. Brooke. It may be proved, with much certainty, that God intends no man to live in this world without working ; but it seems to me no less evident that he intends every man to be happy in his work. It is written " in the sweat of thy brow," but it was never written " in the breaking of thy heart," thou shalt eat bread : and I find that, as on the one hand infinite misery is caused by idle people, who both fail in doing what was appointed for them to do, and set in motion certain springs of mischief in matters in which they should have had no concern, so on the other hand, no small misery is caused by over-worked and unhappy people, in the dark views which they necessarily take up themselves, and force upon others, of work itself. Were it not so, I believe the fact of their being unhappy is in itself a violation of di- vine law, and a sign of some kind of folly or sin in their way of life. Now in order that people may be happy in their work, these three things are needed : they must be fit for it ; they must not do too much of it; and they must have a sense of success in it — not a doubtful sense such as needs some testimony of other people for its confirmation, but a sure sense, or rather know- ledge, that so much work has been done well, and faithfully done, whatever the world may think or say about it. So that in order that a man 4 42 IDEALS OF LIFE. may be happy, it is necessary that he should not only be capable of his work, but a good judge of his work. — Ruskin. Sottamlrslmm f )pO eyes that see what is divine, ^> A -heaven-appointed work is mine Naught else have I the power to do, And keep the sense of being true. • For when I sometimes turn aside, The still small voice is sure to chide And resolutely call me back : Peace will not leave her chosen track. My lowly work I need not name, Which has for thee, perhaps, no claim Some other work belongs to thee, In which thou canst be true and free. That work alone pursue — pursue Until the earth shall fade from view ; And thy devotion will insure The daily triumphs that endure. Wise concentration of purpose on a single CONCENTRATION. 43 object made Faraday a great chemist. When an apprentice in a book -binder's shop, he devoted his scanty leisure to the acquisition of the knowl- edge for which his soul thirsted. In the hours after work he learned the beginnings of his phi- losophy from the books given him to bind. There were two that helped him materially, the " Encyclopaedia Britannica," from which he gained his first notions of electricity, and Mrs. Marcet's " Conversations in Chemistry," which afforded an introduction to that science of wonders. In time he obtained his master's permission to attend a series of scientific lectures at a Mr. Tatum's, and afterwards, through the kindness of a gentleman who had noticed and admired his remarkable in- dustry and intelligence, he was present at the last four public lectures of Sir Humphry Davy. "The eager student sat in the gallery, just over the clock, and took copious notes of the Profes- sor's explanation of radiant matter, chlorine, simple inflammables and metals, while he watched the experiments that were performed. Afterwards he wrote the lectures fairly out in a quarto vol- ume that is still preserved ; first, the theoretical portions, then the experiments with drawings, and finally an index." Sending these notes to Sir Humphry Davy, with a letter explaining his intense attachment to scientific research, he was offered the post of. assistant in the laboratory of the Royal Institution of London. Gladly he accepted it, with its weekly wage of twenty-five 44 IDEALS OF LIFE. shillings and the advantage of a room in the house. Thenceforward his career was assured ; but it must be remembered that the renown which gilded it was won by Faraday's unwav- ering pursuit of a single end. — Adams. A concentration of energy and talent upon the object which it is most important for us to secure, implies no absolute disregard of every other. Because a traveller presses forward reso- lutely to the desired haven, and refuses to wan- der from the direct road, it by no means follows that he shall have no eyes for the blossoms that shine by the wayside, no ears for the music of the brook that ripples through the bracken. An indifference to everything that brightens or en- nobles life is very apt to militate against success — success, that is, of the highest and purest kind. Because Faraday made chemistry his great pursuit, he did not neglect every other branch of science. Because John Stuart Mill gave him- self up chiefly to political economy and meta- physical inquiry, he did not deny himself the sweet pleasures of botany and music. — Adams. Just as the general who scatters his soldiers all about the country ensures defeat, so does he whose attention is forever diffused through such innumerable channels that it can never gather in force on any one point. The human mind, in short, resembles a burning-glass, whose rays are intense only as they are concentrated. As the glass burns only when its light is conveyed to PRUDENCE. 45 the focal point, so the former illumines the world of science, literature, or business, only when it is directed to a solitary object. Or, to take an- other illustration, what is more powerless than the scattered clouds of steam as they rise in the sky ! They are as impotent as the dewdrops that fall nightly upon the earth ; but concen- trated and condensed in a steam-boiler, they are able to cut through solid rock, to move moun- tains into the sea, and to bring the Antipodes to our doors. — Anonymous. 3?ritb*m& [E prudent, yet be not afraid ; No ghost by fear was ever laid, Nor any mountain made a plain. With bold and prudent step advance Without one thought of luck or chance, Success will follow in thy train. If Prudence but impart her skill, The legions of the mighty Will Can storm the gates of Paradise : Who has them fighting on his side Will from the field in triumph ride, Though all the world against him rise. 46 IDEALS OF LIFE. Prudence is the combination of wisdom, rea- son, discretion, and common sense ; the offspring of a clear head, a correct judgment, and a good heart. It regards the past, the present, and the future ; time and eternity ; never shrinks from known duty ; acts with coolness and decision ; investigates impartiality, reasons correctly, and condemns reluctantly. The prudent man meets the dispensations of Providence calmly ; views mankind in the clear sunshine of charity ; is guided by the golden rule in his dealings ; cher- ishes universal philanthropy ; and soars, in peer- less majesty, above the trifling vanities and cor- rupting vices of the world, and lives in constant readiness to enter the mansions of bliss beyond this vale of tears. It is not the consequent re- sult of shining talents, brilliant genius or great learning. It has been truly said by Dr. Young, and demonstrated by thousands, With the talents of an angel, a man may be a fool. A profound scholar may astonish the world with his scientific researches and discoveries ; pour upon mankind a flood of light ; illuminate and enrapture the immortal mind with the beauties of expounded revelation ; point erring man to the path of recti- tude ; direct the anxious mind to the Saviour's love ; and render himself powerless in the cause of truth by imprudent and inconsistent practices. " How empty learning, and how vain is art ; Save when it guides the life, and mends the heart." One grain of prudence is of more value than PERSEVERANCE. 47 a cranium crowded with unbridled genius, or a flowing stream of vain wit. It is the real ballast of human life. Without it, dangers gather quick and fast around the frail bark of man, and hurry him on to destruction. The shores of time are lined with wrecks, driven before the gales of Imprudence. — L. C. Judson. Is he a prudent man as to his temporal estate, who lays designs only for a day, with- out any prospect to, or provision for, the re- maining part of life ? — Tillotson. y$vummn. jTRHINE enemy of greatness sings, *^ Yet pours contempt on little things. O brand him with his shame, And purge the chambers of thy heart, And bid him with his lie depart, And all who bear his name. Be right, be firm ; be strong of will, Which in defeat continues still Where daily duties are ; Admiring angels soon will bless Thee with the sweetness of success, And hide thine evil star. 48 IDEALS OF LIFE. All the performances of human art, at which we look with praise or wonder, are instances of the resistless force of perseverance : it is by this that the quarry becomes a pyramid, and that distant countries are united with canals. If a man was to compare the effect of a single stroke of the pick-axe, or of one impression of a spade, with the general design and last result, he would be overwhelmed by the sense of their dispro- portion ; yet those petty operations, incessantly continued, in time surmount the greatest diffi- culties, and mountains are levelled, and oceans bounded, by the slender force of human beings. It is, therefore of the utmost importance that those who have any intention of deviating from the beaten roads of life, and acquiring a repu- tation superior to names hourly swept away by time among the refuse of fame, should add to their reason and their spirit, the power of per- sisting in their purpose ; acquire the art of sap- ping what they cannot batter ; and the habit of vanquishing obstinate resistance by obstinate at- tacks. — Dr. Johnson. People may tell you of your being unfit for some peculiar occupation in life ; but heed them not. Whatever employ you follow with perse- verance and assiduity will be found fit for you : it will be your support in youth and your com- fort in age. In learning the useful part of any profession, very moderate abilities will suffice — great abilities are generally injurious to the pos- PERSEVERANCE. 49- sessors. Life has been compared to a race ; but the allusion still improves by observing that the most swift are ever the most apt to stray from the course. — Goldsmith. That policy that can strike only while the iron is hot, will be overcome by that perseve- rance which, like Cromwell's, can make the iron hot by striking; and he that can only rule the storm must yield to him who can both raise and rule it. — Colton. Perseverance, working in the right direction, grows with time, and when steadily practiced, even by the most humble, will rarely fail of its reward. Trusting in the help of others is of comparatively little use. When one of Michael Angelo's principal patrons died he said, " I be- gin to understand that the promises of the world are for the most part vain phantoms, and that to confide in one's self, and become something of worth and value, is the best and safest counsel. ,, - — Smiles. Acting — wrote one of the great ornaments of the English stage — does not, like Dogberry's reading and writing, " come by nature ; " with all the high qualities which go to the formation of a great exponent of the book of life (for so the stage may justly be called), it is impossible, totally impossible, to leap at once to fame. 4i What wound did ever heal but by slow de- grees ? " says our immortal author ; and what man, say I, ever became an actor without a long 50 IDEALS OF LIFE. and sedulous apprenticeship ? I know that many men think to step from behind a counter or jump from the high stool of an office to the boards, and take the town by storm in " Richard " or " Othello," is " as easy as lying." O, the born idiots ! They remind me of the halfpenny candles stuck in the windows on illumination nights ; they flicker and flutter their brief minute, and go out unheeded. — Kean. While yet a youth, says a successful business man, in giving his early experience, I entered a store one day, and asked if a clerk was not wanted. " No ! " in a rough tone, was the an- swer, all being too busy to bother with me ; when I reflected that if they did not want a clerk they might want a laborer, but I was dressed too fine for that. I went to my lodgings, put on a rough garb, and the next day went into the same store and demanded if they did not want a por- ter, and again " No, sir," was the response ; when I exclaimed, in despair almost, "A laborer? Sir, I will work at any wages. Wages is not my ob- ject. I must have employ, and I want to be use- ful in business." These last remarks attracted their attention ; and in the end I was hired as a laborer in the basement and sub -cellar at a very low pay, scarcely enough to keep body and soul together. In the basement and sub-cellar I soon at- tracted the attention of the counting-house and chief clerk. I saved enough for my employers, ECONOMY. 51 in little things usually wasted, to pay my wages ten times over, and they soon found it out. I did not let anybody about commit petty lar- cenies without remonstrance and threats of ex- posure, and real exposure if remonstrance would not do. I did not ask for any two hours' leave. If I was wanted at three in the morning I never growled, and told everybody to go home, "and I will see everything right." I loaded off at day- break packages for the morning boats, or carried them myself. In short, I soon became — as I meant to be — indispensable to my employers, and I rose, and rose, until I became head of the house, with money enough for any luxury or any position a mercantile man may desire for himself and family in a great city. — Anonymous. Jkotmtmj* OW quietly yon maple lifts ^^ Its branches to the skies, Because it uses all the gifts Which Providence supplies ! Economy of every gift Which God on us bestows Produces grace and strength and thrift And all that from them grows. 52 IDEALS OF LIFE. It makes each day a stepping-stone To mark the sure increase, The silent climbing which alone Imparts the sense of peace. It gives a task to every power, Proportioned to its range ; And Recreation has her hour, And Friendship sweet exchange. It does not suffer any waste Of substance, time or health, Nor ever plunge in headlong haste To gain ensnaring wealth ; But gathers wholesome property For uses manifold, Becoming that high alchemy Whose wonders are untold. Economy is the parent of integrity, of liberty, and of ease ; and the beauteous sister of temper- ance, of cheerfulness, and health; and profuseness is a cruel and crafty demon that gradually in- volves her followers in dependence and debts ; that is, fetters them with irons that enter into their souls. — Dr. Johnson. It is, indeed, important that the standard of living in all classes should be high ; that is, it should include the comforts of life, the means of neatness and order in our dwellings, and such ECONOMY, 53 supplies of our wants as are fitted to secure vig- orous health. But how many waste their earn- ings on indulgences which may be spared, and thus have no resource for a dark day, and are always trembling on the brink of pauperism ! Needless expenses keep many too poor for self- improvement. And here let me say, that expen- sive habits among the more prosperous laborers often interfere with the mental culture of them- selves and their families. How many among them sacrifice improvement to appetite ! How many sacrifice it to the love of show, to the desire of outstripping others, and to habits of expense which grow out of this insatiable passion ! In a country so thriving and luxurious as ours, the laborer is in danger of contracting artificial wants and diseased tastes; and to gratify these he gives himself wholly to accumulation, and sells his mind for gain. Our unparalleled prosperity has not been an unmixed good. It has inflamed cupidity, has diseased the imagination with dreams of boundless success, and . plunged a vast multitude into excessive toils, feverish competitions, and ex- hausting cares. A laborer having secured a neat home and a wholesome table, should ask nothing- more for the senses ; but shoulcj consecrate his leisure, and what may be spared of his earnings to the culture of himself and his family, to the best books, to the best teaching, to pleasant and profitable intercourse, to sympathy and the offices of humanity, and to the enjoyment of the beau- 54 IDEALS OF LIFE. tiful in nature and art. Unhappily, the laborer, if prosperous, is anxious to ape the rich man, instead of trying to rise above him, as he often may, by noble acquisitions. The young in par- ticular, the apprentice and the female domestic, catch a taste for fashion, and on this altar sacri- fice too often their uprightness, and almost al- ways the spirit of improvement, dooming them- selves to ignorance, if not to vice, for a vain show. Is this evil without remedy ? Is human nature always to be sacrificed to outward decora- tion ? Is the outward always to triumph over the inward man? Is nobleness of sentiment never to spring up among us ? May not a reform in this particular begin in the laboring class, since it seems so desperate among the more prosperous? Cannot the laborer, whose condition calls him so loudly to simplicity of taste and habits, take his stand against that love of dress which dissipates and corrupts so many minds among the opulent? Cannot the laboring class refuse to measure men by outward success, and pour utter scorn on all pretensions founded on outward show or condi- tion? Sure I am that, were they to study plain- ness of dress and simplicity of living, for the pur- pose of their own true elevation, they would sur- pass in intellect, in taste, in honorable qualities, and in present enjoyment, that great proportion of the prosperous who are softened into indul- gences or enslaved to empty show. By such self-denial, how might the burden of labor be ECONOMY. 55 lightened, and time and strength redeemed for improvement. — Channing. Parsimony is not economy. It is separate in theory from it ; and in fact it may or may not be a part of economy, according to circum- stances. Expense, and great expense, may be an essential part in true economy. If parsimony were to be considered as one of the attributes of that virtue, there is, however, another and a higher economy. Economy is a distributive vir- tue, and consists, not in saving, but in selection. Parsimony requires no providence, no sagacity, no powers of combination, no comparison, no judgment. Mere instinct, and that not an in- stinct of the noblest kind, may produce this false economy in perfection. The other economy has larger views. It demands a discriminating judg- ment, and a firm, sagacious mind. It shuts one door to impudent importunity, only to open an- other, and a wider, to unpresuming merit. If none but meritorious service, or real talent were to be rewarded, this nation has not wanted, and this nation will not want, the means of reward- ing all the service it ever will receive, and en- couraging all the merit it ever will produce. No state, since the foundation of society, has been impoverished by that species of profusion. — Burke. As not less important than that economy of money which is insisted upon so strongly by all our moralists, we would recommend an economy' 56 IDEALS OF LIFE. of mental power. Many of us waste our resources in the early stages of our career, forgetful that the race is won by the staying power of the run- ners. Napoleon gained his victories by his judi- cious employment of his reserves. The general who risks all his forces in a single charge must expect and will deserve defeat. It is not the first blow that strikes home the nail, and what is to be done if we leave ourselves no strength with which to strike a second, and a third, or it may be a hundredth? . . . Read aright, the fable of the tortoise and the hare points a moral in this direc- tion. The hare was beaten by the tortoise because the latter possessed the staying faculty. At school and at college we frequently see the prizes carried off by the men whom an ignorant impatience had criticised as dull, slow, and incapable plodders, while the dashing, bril- liant fellows, apparently sure of victory without an effort, were left hopelessly behind in the race. They had no reserve to fall back upon, while the former had a latent accumulation of strength on which they drew at need, enabling them to meet every demand. It is hardly necessary to say that we can hold no such reserve as that of which we are speak- ing unless we submit to the severest self-disci- pline. We must be content to wait and watch, to husband our powers, to accumulate materials, to cultivate habits of rigorous thought and exact LABOR AND GREATNESS. 57 judgment, to conquer hasty impulses, and enforce a strict restraint upon our passions. The vigor and certainty with which a great painter wields his brush and manipulates his colors, until the thought in his brain becomes visible to all men on the enchanted canvas, have been acquired by long and assiduous practice, by the discipline and self-command of patient years. And this disci- pline and self-command have given him so thor- ough a knowledge of his resources that he un- dertakes nothing which he cannot execute. — Adams. Jmlror mh dmlttm* J5)NLY through toil and pain and tribulation ^^ The blessed things of heaven and earth are won, What time the man grows less in his probation, And God is more with each successive sun. And shall the dream of life, the quenchless yearn- ing For something which is yet beyond control, The flame within the breast forever burning, Not leap to action and exalt the soul ? — 5 53 IDEALS OF LIFE. Surmount all barriers to brave endeavor, Make for itself a way where it would go, And flash the crown of ecstacy forever, Which only laborers with God may know ? In action there is joy which is no fiction, The hope of something as in faith begun, God's sweet and everlasting benediction, The flush of victory and labor done ! Labor puts on the livery of greatness While genius, idle, withers from the sight, And in its triumph takes no note of lateness, For time exists not in eternal light. Generally speaking, the life of all truly great men has been a life of intense and incessant la- bor. They have commonly passed the first half of life in the gross darkness of indigent humil- ity, — overlooked, mistaken, contemned, by weaker men, — thinking while others slept, reading while others rioted, feeling something within them that told them they should not always be kept down among the dregs of the world ; and then when their time was come, and some little accident has given them their first occasion, they have burst into the light and glory of public life, rich with the spoils of time, and mighty in all the labors and struggles of the mind. Then do the multi- tude cry out, "A miracle of genius;" yes, he is LABOR AND GREATNESS. 59 a miracle of genius, because he is a miracle of labor ; because, instead of trusting to the re- sources of his own single mind, he has ransacked a thousand minds; because he makes use of the accumulated wisdom of ages, and takes as his point of departure the very last line and bound- ary to which science has advanced ; because it has ever been the object of his life to assist every intellectual gift of nature, however munifi- cent, and however splendid, with every resource that art could suggest, and every attention dili- gence could bestow. — Sydney Smith. There needs all the force that enthusiasm can give to enable a man to succeed in any great enterprise of life. Without it, the obstruction and difficulty he has to encounter on every side might compel him to succumb ; but with courage and perseverance, inspired by enthusiasm, a man feels strong enough to face any danger, or to grapple with any difficulty. What an enthusiasm was that of Columbus, who, believing in the ex- istence of a new world, braved the dangers of unknown seas ; and, when those about him de- spaired and rose up against him, threatening to cast him into the sea, still stood firm upon his hope and courage until the great new world at length rose upon the horizon! The brave man will not be bafHed, but tries and tries again until he succeeds. The tree does not fall at the first stroke, but only by repeated strokes and after great labor. We may see the 60 IDEALS OF LIFE. invisible success at which a man has arrived, but forget the toil and suffering and peril through which it has been achieved. When a friend of Marshal Lefevre was complimenting him on his possessions and good fortune, the Marshal said : " You envy me, do you ? Well, you shall have these things at a better bargain than I had. Come into the court : I'll' fire at you with a gun twenty times at thirty paces, and if I don't kill you, all shall be your own. What ! you wont ? Very well ; recollect, then, that I have been shot at more than a thousand times, and much nearer, before I arrived at the state in which you now find me ! " The apprenticeship of difficulty is one which the greatest of men had to serve. It is usually the best stimulus and discipline of character. It often evokes power of action that, but for it, would have remained dormant. As comets are sometimes revealed by eclipses, so heroes are brought to light by sudden calamity. It seems as if, in certain cases, genius, like iron struck by the flint, needed the sharp and sudden blow of adversity to bring out the divine spark. There are natures which blossom and ripen amidst trials, which would only wither and decay in an atmosphere of ease and comfort. Thus it is good for men to be roused into action and stiffened into self-reliance by diffi- culty, rather than to slumber away their lives in useless apathy and indolence. If there were no LABOR AND GREATNESS. 61 difficulties, there would be no need of efforts ; if there were no temptations, there would be no training in self-control, and but little merit in virtue; if there were no trial and suffering-, there would be no education in patience and resigna- tion. Thus difficulty, adversity and suffering are not all evil, but often the best source of strength, discipline, and virtue. For the same reason, it is often of advantage for a man to be under the necessity of having to struggle with poverty and conquer it. " He who has battled," says Carlyle, " were it only with poverty and hard toil, will be found stronger and more expert than he who could stay at home from the battle, concealed among the provision wagons, or even rest unwatchfully ' abiding by the stuff.' " Scholars have found poverty tolerable com- pared with the privation of intellectual food. Riches weigh much more heavily upon the mind. " I cannot but choose say to Poverty," said Richter, " Be welcome ! so that thou come not too late in life." Poverty, Horace tells us, drove him to poetry, and poetry introduced him to Varus and Virgil and Maecenas. " Obstacles," says Michelet, "are great incentives. I lived for whole years upon a Virgil, and found myself well off. An odd volume of Racine, purchased by chance at a stall on the quay, created the poet of Toulon." The Spaniards are even said to have meanly rejoiced in the poverty of Cervantes, but for 62 IDEALS OF LIFE. which they supposed the production of his great works might have been prevented. When the Archbishop of Toledo visited the French Ambas- sador at Madrid, the gentlemen in the suite of the latter expressed their high admiration of the writings of the author of "Don Quixote," and in- timated their desire of becoming acquainted with one who had given them so much pleasure. The answer they received was, that Cervantes had borne arms in the service of his country, and was now old" and poor. " What ! " exclaimed one of the Frenchmen, " is not Senor Cervantes in good circumstances ? Why is he not maintained, then, out of the public treasury ? " " Heaven forbid ! " was the reply, "that his necessities should be ever relieved, if it is those which make him write ; since it is his poverty that makes the world rich ! " It is not prosperity so much as adversity, not wealth so much as poverty, that stimulates the perseverance of strong and healthy natures, rouses their energy and develops their character. Burke said of himself: "I was not rocked and swaddled and dandled into a legislator. ' Nitor in adversum* is the motto for a man like me." Some men only require a great difficulty set in their way to exhibit the force of their character and genius ; and that difficulty, once conquered, becomes one of the greatest incentives to their further progress. — Smiles. FAILURES AXD SUCCESSES. %®fam mtb §uras*$$* yhat though the triumph of thy fond fore- ^^^ casting Lingers till earth is fading from thy sight ? Thy part with Him whose arms are everlasting, Is not forsaken in a hopeless night. Paul was begotten in the death of Stephen ; Fruitful through time shall be that precious blood : No morning yet has ever worn to even And missed the glory of its crimson Flood. There is a need of all the blood of martyrs, Forevermore the eloquence of God ; And there is need of him who never barters His patience in that desert way the Master trod. What mean the strange, hard words, " through tribulation," O Man of Sorrows, only Thou canst tell, And such as in Thy life's humiliation, Have oft been with Thee, ay, have known Thee well. The failures of the world are God's successes, - Although their coming be akin to pain ; 64 IDEALS OF LIFE, And frowns of Providence are but caresses, Prophetic of the rest sought long in vain. It is a mistake to suppose that men succeed through success ; they much oftener succeed through failure. By far the best experience of men is made up of their remembered failures in dealing with others in the affairs of life. Such failures, in sensible men, incite to better self- management, and greater tact and self-control, as a means of avoiding them in the future. Ask the diplomatist, and he will tell you that he has learned his art through being baffled, defeated, thwarted, and circumvented, far more than from having succeeded. Precept, study, advice, and example could never have taught them so well as failure has done. It has disciplined them ex- perimentally, and taught them what to do as well as what not to do — which is often still more important in diplomacy. Many have to make up their minds to en- counter failure again and again before they suc- ceed ; but if they have pluck, the failure will only serve to rouse their courage, and stimulate them to renewed efforts. Talma, the greatest of actors, was himself hissed off the stage when he ap- peared on it. Lacordaire, one of the greatest preachers of modern times, only acquired celeb- rity after repeated failures. Montalembart said of his first public appearance in the Church of St. FAILURES AND SUCCESSES. C5 Roch : " He failed completely, and, on coming out, everyone said , ' Though he may be a man of tal- ent, he will never be a preacher.' " Again and again he tried, until he succeeded ; and only two years after his debut y Lacordaire was preaching in Notre Dame to audiences such as few French orators have addressed since the time of Bossuet and Massillon. When Mr. Cobden first appeared as a speaker, at a public meeting in Manchester, he completely broke down, and the chairman appologized for his failure. Sir James Graham and Mr. Disraeli failed and were derided at first, and only suc- ceed by dint of great labor and application. At one time Sir James Graham had almost given up public speaking in despair. He said to his friend Sir Francis Baring : " I have tried it in every way — extempore, from notes, and committing all to memory — and I can't do it. I don't know why it is, but I am afraid I shall never succeed." Yet, by dint of perseverance, Graham, like Disraeli, lived to become one of the most effective and impressive of parliamentary speakers. Failures in one direction have sometimes had the effect of forcing the far-seeing student to ap- ply himself in another. Thus Prideaux's failure as a candidate for the post of parish-clerk of Ugboro, in Devon, led to his applying himself to learning, and to his eventual elevation to the bishopric of Worcester. When Boileau, educated for the bar, pleaded his first cause, he broke C6 . IDEALS OF LIFE. clown amidst shouts of laughter. He next tried the pulpit, and failed there too. And then he tried poetry, and succeeded. Fontenelle and Vol- taire both failed at the bar. So Cowper, though his diffidence and shyness, broke down when pleading his first cause, though he lived to re- vive the poetic art in England. Montesquieu and Bentham both failed as lawyers, and forsook the bar for more congenial pursuits — the latter leav- ing behind him a treasury of legislative proceed- ure for all time. Goldsmith failed in passing as a surgeon ; but he wrote the " Deserted Village " and the "Vicar of Wakefield;" while Addison failed as a speaker, but succeeded in writing " Sir Roger de Coverley," and his many famous papers in the " Spectator." Even the privation of some important bodily sense, such as sight or hearing, has not been suf- ficient to deter corageous men from zealously pursuing the struggle of life. Milton, when struck by blindness, " still bore up and steered right onward." His greatest works were pro- duced during that period of his life in which he suffered most — when he was poor, sick, old, blind, slandered, and persecuted. The lives of some of the greatest men have been a continuous struggle with difficulty and ap- parent defeat. Dante produced his greatest work in penury and exile. Banished from his native city by the local faction to which he was opposed, his house was given up to plunder, and he was FAILURES AND SUCCESSES. 67 sentenced, in his absence, to be burned alive. When informed by a friend that he might return to Florence, if he would ask for pardon and ab- solution, he replied : " No ! This is not the way that shall lead me back to my country. I will re- turn with hasty steps if you, or any other, can open to me a way that shall not derogate from the fame or honor of Dante ; but" if by no such way Florence can be entered, then to Florence I shall never return." His enemies remaining im- placable, Dante, after a banishment of twenty years, died in exile. They even pursued him after death, when his book, " De Monarchia," was publicly burned at Bologna, by order of the Papal Legate. Camoens also wrote his great poems mostly in banishment. Tired of solitude at Santarem, he joined an expedition against the Moors, in which he distinguished himself by his bravery. He lost an eye when boarding an enemy's ship in a sea- fight. At Goa, in the East Indies, he witnessed with indignation the cruelty practised by the Por- tugese on the natives, and expostulated with the governor against it. He was in consequence ban- ished from the settlement, and sent to China. In the course of his subsequent adventures and mis- fortunes Camoens suffered shipwreck, escaping only with his life and the manuscript of his " Lusiad." Persecution and hardship seemed everywhere to pursue him. At Macao he was thrown into prison. Escaping from it, he set sail C8 . IDEALS OF LIFE. for Lisbon, where he arrived, after sixteen years' absence, poor and friendless. His " Lusiad," which was shortly after published, brought him much fame, but no money. But for his old Indian slave Antonio, who begged for his master in the streets, Camoens must have perished. As it was, he died in a public alms-house, worn out by dis- ease and hardship. An inscription was placed over his grave: "Here lies Luis de Camoens: he excelled all the poets of his time : he lived poor and miserable ; and he died so, mdlxxix." This record, disgraceful but truthful, has since been removed ; and a lying and pompous epi- taph, in honor of the great national poet of Por- tugal, substituted in its stead. Even Michael Angelo was exposed, during the greater part of his life, to the persecutions of the envious — vulgar nobles, vulgar priests, and sor- did men of every degree, who could neither sym- pathize with him nor comprehend his genius. When Paul IV. condemned some of his work in "The Last Judgment," the artist observed that " The Pope would do better to occupy him- self with correcting the disorders and indecencies which disgrace the world than with any such hypercriticisms upon his art." Tasso, also, was the victim of almost contin- ual persecutions and calumny. After lying in a mad-house for seven years, he became a wan- derer over Italy ; and when on his death-bed he wrote : " I will not complain of the malignity of PEA YEE. 69 fortune, because I do not choose to speak of the ingratitude of men who have succeeded in drag- ing me to the tomb of a mendicant." But time brings about strange revenges. The persecutors and the persecuted often change places ; it is the latter who are great — the former who are infamous. Even the name of the per- secutors would probably long ago have been forgotten, but for their connection with the his- tory of the men whom they have persecuted. — Smiles. JVatpr* m29RAYER is the better sacrifice than whole ^ Burnt offerings, to stay the lifted rod, Up-flaming from the altar of a soul Returning to the royalty of God. Prayer is the manly cry for sympathy To One who made the Father's will His own, That something of His wondrous alchemy May in our weak, disordered lives be shown. Prayer is the herald of outgoing love, Which in the wilderness prepares the way, 70 IDEALS OF LIFE. Till on the wings of the swift-flying dove Come back the tidings of the better day. Prayer is the mighty spirit of our work, Which wins the smile of God, and fills the heart Until there is no room for self to lurk, And all the doubts and fears of life depart. Prayer is an acknowledgment of our depend- ence upon God ; which dependence could have no firm foundation without unchangeableness. Prayer doth not desire any change in God, but is offered to God that He would confer those things which He has immutably willed to com- municate; but He willed them not without prayer, as the means of bestowing them. The light of the sun is ordered for our comfort, for the dis- covery of visible things, for the ripening of the fruits of the earth ; but, withal, it is required that we use our faculty of seeing, that we employ our industry in sowing and planting, and expose our fruits to the view of the sun, that they may re- ceive the influence of it. If a man shuts his eyes, and complains that the sun is changed into darkness, it would be ridiculous; the sun is not changed, but we alter ourselves ; nor is God changed in not giving us the blessings He hath promised, because He hath promised in the way of a due address to Him, and opening our souls to receive His influence, and to this His immu- PRA TEE. 71 tability is the greatest encouragement. — Char- nock. Perhaps nothing on the subject of prayer has ever been uttered wiser than the following speech in the Constitutional Convention of 1787. The speaker was in his 82c! year: — In the beginning of the contest with Britain, when we were sensible of danger, we had daily prayers in this room for the Divine protection. Our prayers, sir, were heard, and they were gra- ciously answered. All of us who were engaged in the struggle must have observed frequent in- stances of a superintending Providence in our favor. To that kind Providence we owe this happy opportunity of consulting in peace on the means of establishing our future national felicity. And have we now forgotten this powerful Friend? or do we imagine we no longer need His assistance ? I have lived for a long time ; and the longer I live the more convincing proofs I see of this truth, that God governs in the affairs of man. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without His notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without His aid ? We have been assured, sir, in the Sacred Writings, that " Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it." I firmly believe this ; and I also believe that without His concurring aid we shall proceed in this political building no better than the builders of Babel : we shall be divided by our little, partial, local interests ; our prospects 72 IDEALS OF LIFE. will be confounded ; and we ourselves shall be- come a reproach and a by-word down to future ages. And what is worse, mankind may here- after, from this unfortunate instance, despair of establishing government by human wisdom, and leave it to chance, war, or conquest. I therefore beg leave to move that henceforth prayers, im- ploring the assistance of Heaven and its bless- ing on our deliberations, be held in this assembly every morning before we proceed to business ; and that one or more of the clergy of this city be requested to officiate in that service. — Dr. Franklin. We are not to pray that all things may go on as we would have them, but as most con- ducing to the good of the world; and we are not in our prayers to obey our wills, but pru- dence — Montaigne. Many times that which we ask would if it should be granted be worse for us, and perhaps tend to our destruction ; and then God by deny- ing the particular matter of our prayers doth grant the general matter of them. — Hammond. Pray for others in such forms, with such length, importunity, and earnestness, as you use for yourself; and you will find all little, ill-na- tured passions die away, your heart grow great and generous, delighting in the common happi- ness of others, as you used only to delight in your own. — Law. Prayer is the peace of our spirit, the stillness PRAYER. 73. of our thoughts, the evenness of recollection, the seat of meditation, the rest of our cares, and the calm of our tempest : prayer is the issue of a quiet mind, of untroubled thoughts ; it is the daughter of charity, and the sister of meekness. — Jeremy Taylor. Prayer opens the understanding to the bright- ness of Divine light, and the will to the warmth of heavenly love; nothing can so effectually purify the mind from its many ignorances, or the will from its perverse affections. It is as a healing water which causes the roots of our good desires to send forth fresh shoots, which washes away the soul's imperfections, and allays the thirst of passion — St. Francis de Sales. No one will refuse to identify holiness with prayer. To say a man is religious is to say the same thing as to say he prays. For what is prayer? To connect every thought with the thought of God ; to look on everything as His will and His appointment ; to submit every thought, wish, and resolve to Him ; to feel His presence so that it shall restrain us even in our wildest joy. That is prayer. And what w r e are now, surely we are by prayer. If we have at- tained any measure of goodness, if we have re- sisted temptation, if we have any self-command, or if we live with aspirations and desires be- yond the common, we shall not hesitate to as- cribe them to prayer. — F. W. Robertson. 74 IDEALS OF LIFE. \m% The substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. — Hebrews xi. i. <^WAITH is repose in Providence, ^ Whose ways we cannot tell, Divine, resistless evidence Of things invisible. Faith is consent that God is God In living unto Him, With strong assurance girt and shod, Although our eyes are dim. Faith is the voice of hunoferinofs That to Hie soul belong, Unerring sense of living things To breathe in prayer and song. Faith is the light of daily toil To make it glow and shine, God's animating wine and oil Our hearts pronounce divine. Faith addresses itself to man's whole being, — it sounds every depth ; it touches every spring ; it calls back the soul from its weary search within itself, full of doubt and contradiction ; it presents it with an object, implicit, absolute, greater than FAITH. 75 itself, — " One that knoweth all things." It pro- vides for every affection, every want and aspira- tion. Faith stretches itself over Humanity as the prophet stretched himself above the child, — eye to eye, mouth to mouth, heart to heart ; and to work a kindred miracle, to bring back life to the dead, by restoring the One to the One,— -the whole native of Man to the whole nature of God. — Miss Green- well. Faith says many things concerning which the senses are silent; but nothing which the senses deny: it is always above them, but never contrary to them. — Pascal. Never yet did there exist a full faith in the Divine Word (by whom light as well as irnmor- itality was brought into the world) which did not expand the intellect, while it purified the heart, — which did not multiply the aims and objects of the understanding, while it fixed and simplified those of the desires and passions. — Coleridge. " We live by faith," says the philosophic apostle ; but faith without principles (on which to ground our faith and our hope) is but a flattering phrase for wil- ful positiveness or fanatical bodily sensations. Well, and with good right, therefore, do we maintain (and with more zeal than we should defend body or estate) a deep and inward conviction, which is as a moon to us ; and like the moon, with all its massy and decep- tive gleams, it yet lights us on our way (poor trav- ellers as we are, and benighted pilgrims). With all its spots and changes and temporary eclipses— with 76 IDEALS OF LIFE. all its vain haloes and bedimming vapors — it yet reflects the light that is to rise upon us, which even now is rising, though intercepted from our imme- diate view by the mountains that enclose and frown over the whole of our mortal life. — Coleridge. Faith is Light transforming Chaos into Order — Conviction passing into Conduct. The author of " Sartor Resartus " presents this idea in his own inimitable way, in the following passage : — It is with man's Soul as it was with Nature : the beginning of creation is — Light. Till the eye have vision the whole members are in bonds. Di- vine moment, when over the tempest-tost Soul, as once over the wild-weltering Chaos, it is spoken : Let there be Light ! Ever to the greatest that has felt such moment, it is not miraculous and God-an- nouncing ; even as, under simpler figures, to the simplest and least. The mad primeval Discord is hushed; the rudely-jumbled, conflicting elements bind themselves into separate Firmaments : deep, silent, rock-foundations are built beneath ; and the skyey vault, with its everlasting Luminaries above : instead of a dark, wasteful Chaos, we have a bloom- ing, fertile, heaven-encompassed World. I, too, could now say to myself: Be no longer a Chaos, but a World, or even Worldkin. Produce ! Produce ! Were it but the pitifullest infinitesimal fraction of a product, produce it, in God's name ! 'Tis the utmost thou hast in thee: out with it, then. Up, up ! Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy whole might. Work while it is called To- HOPE. 77 day ; for the Night cometh, wherein no man can work. — Carlyle. Faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone. Yea, a man may say, Thou hast faith, and I have works : shew me thy faith without thy works, and I will shew thee my faith by my works. — St. James II. 17-18. PRESENCE on the mountain Which beckons up- the mighty slope To her perennial fountain. A mighty power above us, Which gives us strength with foes to copej And win new friends to love us. An ever brave forerunner, Far swifter than the antelope,— Nay, light cannot outrun her. A star the night adorning, That doth the midnight portals ope And bid the soul Good-morning. 78 IDEALS OF LIFE. A bright, immortal glory, Whose pilgrims past the sunset grope To verify her story. Our actual enjoyments are so few and transient that man would be a very miserable being were he not endowed with this passion, which gives him a taste of those good things that may possibly come into his possession. " We should hope for every- thing that is good," says the old poet Linus, "be- cause there is nothing which may not be hoped for, and nothing but what the gods are able to give us." Hope quickens all the still parts of life, and keeps the mind awake in her most remiss and indolent hours. It gives habitual serenity and good humor. It is a kind of vital heat in the soul, that cheers and gladdens her, when she does not attend to it. It makes pain easy, and labor pleasant. — Addison. Hope is the principle of activity ; without holding out hope, to desire one to advance is absurd and senseless. Suppose, without a sou in my hand, one were to say, " Exert yourself: for there is no hope," — it would be to turn me into ridicule, and not to advise me. To hold out to me the hopelessness of my condition never was a reason for exertion ; for when, ultimately, equal evils attend upon exertion and rest, rest has clearly the preference. — Burke. Hope is necessary in every condition. The mis- eries of poverty, of sickness, or captivity, would, without this comfort, be insupportable ; nor does it appear that the happiest lot of terrestrial existence HOPE. 79 can set us above the want of this general blessing ; or that life, when the gifts of nature and of fortune are accumulated upon it, would not still be wretched, were it not elevated and delighted by the expecta- tion of some new possession, of some enjoyment yet behind by which the wish shall be at last satisfied, and the heart filled up to its utmost extent. Hope is, indeed, very fallacious, and promises what it seldom gives ; but its promises are more valuable than the gifts of fortune, and it seldom frustrates us without assuring us of recompensing the delay by a greater bounty. — Dr. Johnson. Hope throws a generous contempt upon ill- usage, and looks like a handsome defiance of a misfortune; as who should say, You are somewhat troublesome now, but I shall conquer you. — Jeremy Collier. Used with due abstinence, hope acts as a health- ful tonic ; intemperately indulged, as an enervating opiate. The visions of future triumph which at first animate exertion, if dwelt upon too intensely, will usurp the place of the stern reality ; and noble ob- jects will be contemplated, not for their own inher- ent worth, but on account of the day-dreams they engender. Thus hope, aided by imagination, makes one man a hero, another a somnambulist, and a third a lunatic ; while it renders them all enthusiasts. — Sir J. Stephen. A religious life is which most abounds in well- grounded hope, and such an one as is fixed on ob- jects that are capable of making us entirely happy. SO IDEALS OF LIFE. This hope in a religious man is much more sure and certain than the hope of any temporal blessing-, as it is strengthened not only by reason, but by faith. It has at the same time its eye perpetually fixed on that state, which implies in the very notion of it the most full and most complete happiness. Religious hope has likewise this advantage above any other kind of hope, that it is able to revive the dying man, and to fill his mind not only with secret comfort and refreshment, but sometimes with rap- ture and transport. He triumphs in his agonies, whilst the soul springs forward with delight to the great object which she has always had in view, and leaves the body with an expectation of being re- united to her in a glorious and joyful resurrection. — Addison. itprmj* And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three ; but the greatest oi these is charity. — I Con. xin. 13. <^?V3 ^jIVINE Elixer flows from Heaven ^^^ To make our manhood pure and strong To all who love this wine is given Transmuting life to prayer and song. CHARITY. 81 And in the sweet transfiguration The joy, the joy alone abides : The shining stairs of Tribulation Go winding up where God resides. O, Christ, divinest fairest Lover, Since Thou hast smitten me with love, I must tell out what I discover, — This dear Elixer from above. It is the honey of Existence, The sweetness of a virgin bride, The nectar of divine subsistence, The beauty that must needs abide. And when, like rain or sunshine vernal, It comes with virtue in its train, The pure, sweet breath of the Eternal, Which maketh all things live again, — A blessed sense of liberation Goes prancing all my being through ; And the invisible creation Majestically comes to view. I gaze upon the world around me, Beholding that which is divine ; All beauteous things which here surrounc me, They speak to me, and they are mine. I see in every man a brother, Whose life, like mine, is infinite, 82 IDEALS OF LIFE. All interlocked with one another, Companions struggling to the light I look beyond the shining portals, And strength comes back for life on earth I -feel the glory of immortals Transfigure me with kindred worth. Henceforth all joys are antedated Along my pathway here below : I know I am to God related, And that is joy of joys to know. And Charity has surely founded Her peaceful dwelling in my breast, And I shall never be confounded, Partaking her eternal rest. . The earth does not Madden more when the morning sun flashes his light on her bosom, than does the soul rejoice when the light of the heavenly Sun first touches it, and it passes out of darkness into warm, bright day. Circumstances are nothing. " I have found Him whom my soul loveth " is the cry ; and nothing can kill, nothing can even dash, the joy which that consciousness quickens within. — J. Baldwin Brown. The raptures of love are of little value, if they end with the bosom in which they begin. Genuine love is active benevolence or charity. . Charity, taken in its largest extent, is nothing CHARITY. 83 else but the sincere love of God and our neighbor. — Wake. Charity is more extensive than either of the two other graces, which centre ultimately in ourselves : for we believe and we hope for our own sakes ; but love, which is a more disinterested principle, carries us out of ourselves into desires, and endeavors of promoting the interests of other beings. — Atter- BURY. Charity is made the constant companion and perfection of all virtues ; and well it is for that virtue where it most enters and longest stays — Sprat. Charity is universal duty, which it is in every man's power sometimes to practice ; since every degree of assistance given to another, upon proper motives, is an act of charity ; and there is scarcely any man in such a state of imbecility as that he may not, on some occasions, benefit his neighbor. He that cannot relieve the poor may instruct the ignor- ant ; and he that cannot attend the sick may reclaim the vicious. He that can give little assistance him- self may yet perform the duty of charity by influ- encing the ardor of others, and recommending the petitions which he cannot grant to those who have more to bestow. The widow that shall give her mite to the treasury, the poor man who shall bring to the thirsty a cup of cold water, shall not lose their reward. — Dr. Johnson. That charity alone endures which flows from a sense of duty and a hope in God. This is the char- 84 . IDEALS OF LIFE. ity that treads in secret those paths of misery from which all but the lowest of human wretches have fled : this is that charity which no labor can weary, no ingratitude detach, no horror disgust ; that toils, that pardons, that suffers ; that is seen by no man, and honored by no man, but, like the great laws of nature, does the work of God in silence, and looks to a future and better world for its reward. — Syd- ney Smith. Every good act is charity. Giving water to the thirsty is charity ; removing stones and thorns from the road is charity ; smiling in your brother's face is charity. A man's true wealth is the good he does in this world. When he dies, mortals will ask what property he left behind him ; but angels will ask him, What good deeds hast thou sent before thee ? — Mohammed. A poor man, with a single handful of flowers, heaped the alms-bowl of Buddha, which the rich could not fill with ten thousand bushels. — From the Chinese. The liberal man who eats and bestows is better than the pious man who fasts and hoards. — From the Persian. Give, if thou canst, an alms ; if not, afford instead of that a sweet and gentle word. — Robert Herrick. Love or charity is life — the life lived and taught by One " Who left us an example that we should follow His steps." . THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. 35 |$ Jktj uf f tf^mtttl 9wRE ye with the preparation w^ Qf t h e Gospel shod, Fear ye not the tribulation Of the day of God ! He will come in all the glory Of a smiling face, And rehearse the happy story Of the day of grace. Are ye with no preparation Of the Gospel shod, Then, alas ! the tribulation Of the day of God! He will come, but in the glory Of a clouded face, And recall the mournful story Of His wasted grace. - "There is a Spirit in man," faithful to its in- stincts, even when astray as to their true object ; it wanders often, yet feels through very sadness and weariness how far it has got from home. And hence come those utterances (of which you tell me), strange, prophetic voices, a groaning and travail- pain of Humanity, which, even in the hearts of those who reject revelation, testify its waiting for some great Redemption. If man refused the bread which 86 IDEALS OF LIFE. came down from Heaven, never was it so hard for him to live " by bread alone " as now. His very wealth and increase has brought with it a sense of poverty, — because he has become rich, and increased in goods, he knows, as he did not before, that he is wretched, and miserable, and blind, and naked. The energy of his wrestling with the things of time and sense has awakened instincts of which, but for the ardor of that struggle, he might have known little. He conquers kingdoms, and weeps like the ancient conqueror. The world which he has vanquished cannot satisfy him. He feels himself to be greater than the universe, yet feebler than the meanest thing within it which can follow the appointed law of its being. The splendor of his material acquisi- tions is but a robe, too short and thin to wrap him from cold and shame. He can do great things, but what is he? To have all, and to die saying, "Is this all?" is the epitaph of many a rich and wasted life. — Miss Greenwell. Methinks neither the voice of the archangel, nor the trump of God, nor the dissolution of the ele- ments, nor the face of the Judge itself, from which the heavens will flee away, will be so dismaying and terrible to these men as the sight of the poor mem- bers of Christ ; whom, having spurned and rejected in the days of their humiliation, they will then be- hold with amazement united to their Lord, covered with His glory, and seated on His throne. How will they be astonished to see them surrounded with so much majesty ! How will they cast down their eyes THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. 87 in their presence ! How will they curse that gold which will then eat their flesh as with fire, and that avarice, that indolence, that voluptuousness which will entitle them to so much misery ! You will then learn that the imitation of Christ is the only wisdom: you will then be convinced it is better to be en- deared to the cottage than admired in the palace ; when to have wiped the tears of the afflicted, and inherited the prayers of the widow and the father- less, shall be found a richer patrimony than the fa- vor of princes. — Robert Hall. How can we think of appearing at that tribunal without being able to give a ready answer to the questions which He shall then put to us about the poor and the afflicted, the hungry and the naked, the sick and the imprisoned ? — Atterbury. All the precepts, promises, and threatenings of the gospel will rise up in judgment against us; and the articles of our faith will be so many articles of accusation: and the great weight of our charge will be this, that we did not obey the gospel, which we professed to believe ; that we made confession of the Christian faith, but lived like heathens. — Tillotson. As the Supreme Being is the only proper judge of our perfections, so He is the only fit rewarder of them. This is a consideration that comes home to our interest, as the other adapts itself to our ambi- tion. And what could the most aspiring or the most selfish man desire more, were he to form the notion of a being to whom he would recommend himself, than such a knowledge as can discover the 88 IDEALS OF LIFE. least appearance of perfection in him, and such a goodness as will proportion a reward to it ? Let the ambitious man, therefore, turn all his desire of fame this way; and, that he may propose to himself a fame worthy of his ambition, let him consider, that if he employs his abilities to the best advantage, the time will come when the Supreme Governor of the world, the Great Judge of man- kind, who sees every degree of perfection in others, and possesses all possible perfection in Himself, shall proclaim his worth before men and angels, and pronounce to him, in the presence of the whole creation, that best and most significant of applauses, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant, enter thou into thy Master's joy. — Addison. iffart Sw0il 8§«y-&»*«§- Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world. — I. John. v. 4. O keep me innocent ! make others great. — Queen Caroline Ma- tilda, of Denmark. A handful of good life is better than a bushel of learning. — George Herbert. The voice of God himself speaks in the hearts of men, whether they understand it or not. — South. Whatever people think of you, do that which you believe to be right. — Pythagoras. A beautiful behavior is better than a beautiful form. — Emerson. He lives long that lives well ; and time mis-spent is not lived, but lost. — Thomas Fuller. A man must not so much prepare himself for eternity as plant eter- nitv in himself — Richter. (CO) IpTERNAL Providence: v * s8 ^ Throughout His Infinite Abode The Whither and the Whence. The Virtue of the world: Life, Life above, below the sod, In mystery impearled. Eternity and Time Rolled up together at His nod Within the soul sublime. The Strength that is so still, The Glory on the heavenly road Which doth all creatures fill. One always sacrificed: Forever Love with Justice shod, Forevermore the Christ. While earthly objects are exhausted by famili- arity, the thought of God becomes to the devout man continually brighter, richer, vaster ; derives (91) 92 IDEALS OF LIFE. fresh lustre from all that he observes of nature and Providence, and attracts to itself all the glories of the universe. The devout man, espe- cially in moments of strong religious sensibility, feels distinctly that he has found the true happi- ness of man. He has found a Being for his ven- eration and love, whose character is inexhaustible, who after ages shall have passed will still be un- comprehended in the extent of His perfections, and will still communicate to the pure mind stronger proofs of His excellence and more in- timate signs of His approval. — Channing. His eye is upon every hour of my existence. His spirit is intimately present with every thought of my heart. His inspiration gives birth to every purpose within me. His hand impresses a direction on every footstep of my goings. Every breath I inhale is drawn by an energy which God deals out to me. — Dr. Chalmers. God is a perpetual refuge and security to His people. His providence is not confined to one generation ; it is not only one age that tastes of His bounty and compassion. His eye never yet slept, nor hath He suffered the little ship of His church to be swallowed up, though it hath been tossed upon the waves ; He hath always been a haven to preserve us, a house to secure us; He hath always had compassion to pity us, and power to protect us ; He hath had a face to shine, when the world hath had an angry coun- tenance to frown. He brought Enoch home by- GOD. 93 an extraordinary translation from a brutish world; and when He was resolved to reckon with men for their brutish lives, He lodged Noah, the phoe- nix of the world, in an ark, and kept him alive as a spark in the midst of many waters, whereby to rekindle a church in the world ; in all genera- tions He is a dwelling-place to secure His people here or entertain them above. — Charnock. It is a singular piece of wisdom to apprehend truly, and without passion, the works of God, and so well to distinguish His justice from His mercy as not to miscall those noble attributes ; yet it is likewise an honest piece of logic, so to dispute and argue the proceedings of God as to dis- tinguish even His judgments into mercies. For God is merciful unto all, because better to the worst than the best deserve ; and to say He punisheth none in this world, though it be a paradox, is no absurdity. — Sir Thomas Browne. Unto them that love Him, God causeth all things to work for the best. So that with Him, by the heavenly light of steadfast faith, they see life even in death ; with Him, even in heaviness and sorrow, they fail not of joy and comfort ; with Him, even in poverty, affliction, and trouble, they neither perish nor are forsaken. — Bishop COVERDALE. May I be one of the weakest, provided only in my weakness, that immortal and better vigor be put forth with greater effect; provided only, in my darkness, the light of the Divine counte- 94 IDEALS OF LIFE. nance does but the more brightly shine : for then I shall at once be the weakest and the most mighty, — shall be at once blind and of the most piercing sight. — Milton. %h Enmh ftmt* The first man is of the earth, earthy ; the second man is the Lord from heaven. —I Cor. XV. 47. SOD is God all worlds before, ^^ Fulness of Eternal Love : God is Man forevermore, All created things above. Incarnation known at last Earth's divinest dream fulfils: Into Man forever passed, God achieves there what He wills ; Builds again at wondrous cost, Cost which Earth cannot compute, And restores the Image lost Through the death-concealing fruit; Fashions in our earthy shrine All His beauty, all His grace, THE SECOND MAN. 95 Which eternally will shine In this lowly, narrow place ; And uplifts for evermore W T hat was prostrate in the dust, Breathing to the very core Sweet divinity of Trust. O my Soul, in wonder bow ! Heart of mine, in awe retreat! God abideth with thee now, Strength divine and weakness meet. Truth and Immortality Are the gifts He bringeth thee ; Take them with humility, Keep them beautiful and free ; Wondrous germs of wondrous life In this earthly house of thine, Mighty seed of mighty strife Till the victory divine. Hast thou pain and travail now Though thy face is to the van ? With His sign upon thy brow, Prophesy the Second Man : Who, in thee the hope of glory, Crowned with sorrow, strong and brave; Chants the One Heroic Story, Epic of both sides the grave. IDEALS OF LIFE. Hast though tribulation yet ? Fear, which thou canst not recount, Lest to Love thou be in debt In the day of thine account ? God is greater than thy heart, And thy measure is not His : Thou in Llim forever art, Infinite His goodness is. Hast thou eyes too dim to see In this tragedy below All that must forever be, All that will to-morrow go ? In the marvellous To-day Walk in thine Eternal Light ; Heaven and Earth shall pass away, Thou remainest in thy right, — Heir of God and Liberty, And possessor even here, In thy life Eternity Making Christ forever clear : Who, for thy deliverance From the power of Death and Hell, Bids thee trust Him and advance, Hailing Him Immanuel : Liberator of the race And Ideal of the soul, THE SECOND MAN. ^]7 HE fortress of the man, ^ Built on a base divine* 134 WEALS OF LIFE. Through which no tremor ever ran To break its perfect line. The wondrous citadel, Which reaches unto Heaven, Wherein courageous angels dwell, To whom its keys are given. The noblest thing which God Has honored with His mark, And made a beacon on the road, Far -shining through the dark. The property which all Who build upon the truth Are girded with — the jasper wall Around eternal youth. Character is one of the greatest motive pow- ers in the world. In its noblest embodiments, it exemplifies human nature in its highest forms, for it exhibits man at his best. Men of genuine excellence, in every station of life — men of industry, of integrity, of high prin- ciple, of sterling honesty of purpose — command the spontaneous homage of mankind. It is natu- ral to believe in such men, to have confidence in them, and to imitate them. All that is good in the world is upheld by them, and without their presence in it the world would not be worth liv- ing in. CHARACTER. 135 Although genius always commands admiration, character most secures respect. The former is more the product of brain-power, the latter of heart -power; and in the long run it is the heart that rules in life. Men of genius stand to society in the relation of its intellect, as men of character of its conscience ; and while the former are ad- mired, the latter are followed. — Smiles. You insist, — wrote the author of this para- graph to a friend, — on respect for learned men. I say, Amen ! But, at the same time, don't for- get that eagerness of mind, depth of thought, appreciation of the lofty, experience of the world, delicacy of manner, tact and energy in action, love of truth, honesty, and amiability — that all these may be wanting in a man who may yet be very learned. — Perthes. I have read books enough, and observed and conversed with enough of eminent and splendidly- cultured minds, too, in my time ; but, I assure you, I have heard higher sentiments from the lips of poor, uneducated men and women, when exerting the spirit of severe yet gentle heroism under difficulties and afflictions, or speaking their simple thoughts as to circumstances in the lot of friends and neighbors, than I ever yet met with- out of the Bible. We shall never learn to feel and respect our real calling and destiny, unless we have taught ourselves to consider everything as moonshine, compared with the education of the heart. — Sir Walter Scott. 136 IDEALS OF LIFE. Character is property. It is the noblest of possessions. It is an estate in the general good- will of men ; and they who invest in it — though they may not become rich in this world's goods — will find their reward in esteem and reputation fairly and honorably won. And it is right that in life good qualities should tell — that industry, virtue, and goodness should rank the highest — and that the really best men should be foremost. Simple honesty of purpose in a man goes a long way in life, if founded on a just estimate of himself and a steady obedience to the rule he knows and feels to be . right. It holds a man straight, gives him strength and sustenance, and forms a main spring of vigorous action. " No man," once said Sir Benjamin Rudyard, " is bound to be rich or great — no, nor to be wise ; but every man is bound to be honest." — Smiles. A good character, when established, should not be rested in as an end, but only employed as a means of doing still farther good. — Atterbury. There is no man at once either excellently good or extremely evil, but grows either as he holds himself up in virtue or lets himself slide to viciousness. — Sir Philip Sidney. As a man thinks or desires in his heart, such, indeed, he is ; for then most truly, because most incontrollably, he acts himself. — South. Health and sickness, enjoyment and suffering, riches and poverty, knowledge and ignorance, power and subjection, liberty and bondage, civil- COMMON SENSE. 137 ization and barbarity, have all their offices and duties; all serve for the formation of character. — Paley. It is in men as in soils, where sometimes there is a vein of gold which the owner knows not of. — Swift. ■ Soratram ©«&$♦ fT?HE lightning of the common mind, **^ Which pierces to the heart of things, While logic lingers far behind, Possessed of no celestial wings ; The native faculty of man, Which separates the false and true, As only eyes of wisdom can, And sees the thing to say or do. To act with common sense, according to the moment, is the best wisdom I know; and the best philosophy, to do one's duties, take the world as it comes, submit respectfully to one's lot, bless the goodness which has given us so much happi- ness with it, whatever it is, and despise affecta- tion. — Horace Walpole. 30 138 IDEALS OF LIFE. The longer we live, the more we are con- vinced of the justice of the old saying-, that an ounce of mother wit is worth a poitnd of clergy ; that discretion, gentle manners, common sense, and good nature, are, in men of high ecclesiasti- cal station, of far more importance than the greatest skill in distinguishing between sublap- sarian and supralapsarian doctrines. — Sydney Smith. Common sense should lie at the bottom of all enterprises, the literary and poetical as well as the practical and scientific. Good sense is the ballast of genius ; nay, we might say, it is the cargo itself out of which genius works its suc- cesses. — Calvert. When asked how he felt on the ill-success of his tragedy, he (Dr. Johnson) replied, " Like the monument ; " meaning that he continued firm and unmoved as that column. And, let it be remem- bered, as an admonition to the genus irritabile of dramatic writers, that this great man, instead of peevishly complaining of the bad taste of the town, submitted to its decision without a murmur. He had, indeed, upon all occasions a great def- erence for the general opinion. " A man," said he, " who writes a book, thinks himself wiser or wittier than the rest of mankind ; he supposes that he can instruct or amuse them; and the public to whom he appeals must, after all, be the judges of his pretensions." — Boswell. Gov. Hubbard, of Connecticut, once called at COMMON SENSE. 139 the White House in reference to a newly-in- vented gun, concerning which a committee had been appointed to make a report. The report was sent for, and when it came in was found to be of the most voluminous description. Mr. Lin- coln glanced at it, and said : " I should want a new lease of life to read this through ! " Throw- ing it down upon the table, he added : " Why can't a committee of this kind occasionally ex- hibit a grain of common sense ? If I send a man to buy a horse for me, I expect him to tell me his points — not how many hairs there are in his tail." — Stories of Lincoln. Fine sense and exalted sense are not half so useful as common sense : there are forty men of wit for one of good sense ; and he that will carry nothing about with him but gold will be every day at a loss for readier change. — Addison. What we call good sense in the conduct of life consists chiefly in that temper of mind which enables its possessor to view at all times, with perfect coolness and accuracy, all the various cir- cumstances of his situation : so that each of them may produce its due impression on him, without any exaggeration arising from his own peculiar habits. But to a man of an ill-regulated imagina- tion, external circumstances only serve as limits to excite his own thoughts, and the conduct he pursues has in general far less reference to his real situation than to some imaginary one in which he conceives himself to be placed ; and in 140 IDEALS OF LIFE. consequence of which, while he appears to him- self to be acting with the most perfect wisdom and consistency, he may frequently exhibit to others all the appearances of folly. — Dugald Stewart. (Dims. A BALLAD FOR NEW- YEAR DAY. 71H did you not see him that over the snow <5>i£y% Came on with a pace so cautious and slow ? — That measured his step to a pendulum-tick, Arriving in town when the darkness was thick? I saw him last night, with locks so gray, A little way off, as the light died away. And I knew him at once, so often before Had he silently, mournfully passed at my door. He must be cold and weary, I said, Coming so far, with that measured tread. I will urge him to linger awhile with me Till his withering chill and weariness flee. A story — who knows ? — he may deign to rehearse, And when he is gone I will put it in verse. TIME. 141 I turned to prepare for the coming guest, With curious, troublous thoughts oppressed. The window I cheered with the taper's glow Which glimmered afar o'er the spectral snow. My anxious care the hearth-stone knew, And the red flames leaped and beckoned anew. But chiefly myself, with singular care, Did I for the hoary presence prepare. Yet with little success, as I paced the room, Did I labor to banish a sense of gloom. My thoughts were going and coming like bees, With store from the year's wide-stretching leas, Some laden with honey, some laden with gall, And into my heart they dropped it all ! O miserable heart, at once over-run With the honey and gall thou canst not shun. O wretched heart ! in sadness I cried, Where is thy trust in the Crucified ? And in wrestling prayer did I labor long That the Mighty One would make me strong. That prayer was more than a useless breath: It brought to my soul God's saving health. The hours swept on in their rapid flight, And came the middle watch of the night; 142 IDEALS OF LIFE. In part unmanned, in spite of my care, I beheld my guest in the taper's glare ; A wall of darkness around him thick, As onward he came to a pendulum- tick. Then quickly I opened wide the door, And bade him pass my threshold o'er, And linger awhile away from the cold, And repeat some story or ballad old — His weary limbs to strengthen with rest, For his course to the ever receding west. Through the vacant door in wonder I glanced, And stood — was it long? — as one entranced. Silence so awful did fill the room, That the tick of the clock was a cannon's boom. And my heart it sank to its lowest retreat, And in whelming awe did muffle its beat. For now I beheld, as never before, And heard to forget, ah, nevermore ! For with outstretched hand, with scythe and glass, With naught of a pause did the traveller pass. And with upturned face he the silence broke, And thus, as he went, he measuredly spoke ; My journey is long, but my limbs are strong; •And I stay not ~ - rest, for story, or song. TIME. 143 It is only a dirge, that ever I sing ; It is only of death, the tale that I bring: Of death that is life, as it cometh to pass ; Of death that is death, alas ! alas ! And these I chant, as I go on my way, As I go on my way forever and aye. Call not thyself wretched, though bitter and sweet, In thy cup at this hour intermingle and meet Some cloud with the sunshine must ever appear, And darkness prevails till morning is near. But who doth remember the gloom of the night, When the sky is aglow with the beautiful light ? Oh alas ! if thou drinkest the bitter alone, Nor heaven nor earth may stifle thy moan ! Thy moan ! — and the echo died away — Thy moan ! thy moan forever and aye ! His measured voice I heard no more, But not till I stand on eternity's shore, And the things of time be forgotten all, Shall I cease that traveller's words to recall. As onward he moved to a pendulum- tick, The gloom and darkness around him thick, I fell on my knees and breathed a prayer; And it rose, I ween, through the midnight air 144 IDEALS OF LIFE, To a God who knoweth the wants and all The evil and good of this earthly thrall : To One who suffered as on this day, And began our sins to purge away : To Him who hath promised to heed our cry, And a troubled heart to purify. And I feel that the gall will ever grow less, Till I see His face in righteousness. And now my soul is filled with cheer For the march of a bright and Happy New Year. As years roll on, whether sun doth shine Or clouds overcast, I will never repine ; For I know, when the race of Time is run, I shall enter a realm of Eternal Sun. Time is exactly what we make it ; in the hands of the foolish, a curse ; in the hands of the wise, a preparation for life eternal ; in the hands of the foolish, a preparation for the con- demnation that is everlasting. To you it is much ; to your neighbor it is naught. He is as anxious to throw it away as you (we hope) are anxious to cultivate it to the greatest advantage. Ah, if all of us did but know what it is, what it might be, how we should watch over every grain in the hour-glass ! How great would be our ac- tivity, how solicitous our labor, how profound our TIME. 145 consciousness of duty ! How we should aspire to avail ourselves of each passing moment! How keen would be our regret if conscience could speak to us of days wasted and opportunities neglected ! In commenting on the importance of thrift in regard to time, it would be easy to lay down a few practical and familiar rules for the benefit of the young adventurer in life's chequered career. As for instance : — One thing at a time. Do at once what ought to be done at once. Never put off till to-morrow what ought to be done to-day. Never leave to another that which you can do yourself. More haste, worse speed. Stay a little that we may make an end the sooner. But more is to be learned from example than precept ; and the lives of great men ; or of men good and great, will prove of higher and more lasting value to the student than the most preci- ous fragments of proverbial philosophy. Show me a man who has attained to eminence, or ex- cellence, and you show me a man who has econ- omized his time. Show me a man who has ben- efited the world by his wisdom, or his country by his patriotism, or his neighborhood by his philan- thropy, and you show me a man who has made the best of every minute. In business, the men 146 IDEALS OF LIFE. who have attained success are the men who have known the importance of method, the men who have appreciated the potentiality of time. — Adams. Thrift of time will repay you in after-life with a usury of profit beyond your most sanguine dreams ; while the waste of it will make you dwindle, alike in intellectual and moral stature, beyond your darkest reckonings. — Gladstone. Time is the most indefinable yet paradoxical of things : the past is gone, the future is not come, and the present becomes the past even while we attempt to define it, and, like the flash of lightning, at once exists and expires. — Time is the measurer of all things, but is itself immeas- urable, and the grand discloser of all things, but is itself undisclosed. Like space, it is incompre- hensible, because it has no limit, and it would be still more so if it had. It is more obscure in its source than the Nile, and in its termination than the Niger ; and advances like the slowest, but retreats like the swiftest torrent. It gives wings of lightning to pleasure, but feet of lead to pain, and lends expectation a curb, but enjoy- ment a spur. It robs Beauty of her charms, to bestow them on the picture, and builds a monu- ment to merit, but denies it a house : it is the transient and deceitful flatterer of falsehood, but the tried and final friend of truth. Time is the most subtle yet the most insatiable of depreda- tors, and by appearing to take nothing, is per- TIME. 147 mitted to take all, nor can it be satisfied until it has stolen the world from us, and us from the world. It constantly flies, yet overcomes all things by flight ; and although it is the present ally, it will be the future conquerer, of death. Time, the cradle of hope, but the grave of ambi- tion, is the stern corrector of fools, but the salu- tary counsellor of the wise, bringing all they dread to the one, and all they desire to the other ; but, like Cassandra, it warns us with a voice that even the sagest discredit too long, and the silliest believe too late. Wisdom walks before it, opportunity with it, and repentance be- hind it : he that has made it his friend will have little to fear from his enemies, but he that hath made it his enemy will have little to hope from his friends. — Colton. Dost thou love life ? Then waste not time, for time is the stuff that life is made of. — Dr. Franklin. Time is painted with a lock before, and bald behind, signifying thereby that we must take time by the forelock ; for, when it is once past, there is no recalling it. — Swift. 148 IDEALS OF LIFE. The things which are seen are temporal ; but the things which are not seen are eternal. — I Cor. IV. 18. gTERNITY! Eternity! How wonderful Thou art, Wide as the Sea of Deity, And narrow as a heart ! The pulses of Eternity Are throbbing everywhere : Time holds Eternity in fee, And thus becomes so fair. Each moment is Eternity, Mother of mighty years, Whose chariot is Infinity, Whose steeds are smiles and tears. Eternity ! Eternity ! The Present, Future, Past, Forever are but one to Thee, — Thou art the First, the Last. All life contains Eternity, Where sight through truth abounds : Clothed, clothed with Christ's humility, I see His pleading wounds. ETERNITY. 149 Illumined by Eternity, How very new they are, Those wounds as of Humanity, No more, no more afar ! The mansion of Eternity Is built in every breath; And into it despairingly Look the great eyes of Death. Eternity ! Eternity ! How prodigal Thou art, Calm, uncreated Mystery, The Whole in every part! It is not by our feet or change of place that we leave Thee, or return to Thee. Nor did that younger son of Thine look out for horses or chariots, or ships, and fly with visible wings, or journey by the motion of his limbs, that he might in a far country waste in riotous living all Thou gavest at his departure. A loving Father Thou wert when Thou gavest ; but more loving unto him wert Thou when he returned empty. . . . We forget that Thou art everywhere, whom no place encompasseth ! that Thou alone art near even to those that remove far from Thee. O Lord, help us to turn and seek Thee; for not as we have forsaken our Creator hast Thou for- saken Thy creation. . . . Our good only lives with Thee ; when we 150 IDEALS OF LIFE. turn away from Thee we are perverted. Let us, then, O Lord, return, that we may not be over- turned ; because with Thee good lives without any decay, for Thou art good ; nor need we fear lest there be no place whither to return, because we fell from it; for our mansion — Thy Eternity — fell not when we left Thee. — St. Augustine. In my solitary and retired imagination, I re- member that I am not alone, and therefore for- get not to contemplate Him and His attributes who is ever with me, especially those two mighty ones, His wisdom and eternity: with the one I recreate, with the other I confound my under- standing ; for who can speak of eternity without a solecism, or think thereof without an ecs- tacy ? . . . St. Peter speaks modestly, when he saith, a thousand years to God are but as one day ; for to speak like a philosopher, those continued in- stances of time which flow into a thousand years, make not to Him one moment: what to us is to come, to His eternity is present, His whole dura- tion being but one permanent point, without suc- cession, parts, flux or division. — Sir Thomas Browne, jiirf SIM *?-S oie §- Let your light so sbine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven. — St. Matthew v. 16. Every man has two educations, — one which he receives from others, ?nd one, more important, which he gives himself. — Gibbon. Be what nature intended you for and you will succeed; be anything else and you will be ten thousand times worse than nothing. — Sidney Smith. The mill-streams that turn the clappers of the world arise in solitary places. — Sir Arthur Helps. I never was anything, dearest, till I knew you; and I have been a better, happier, and more prosperous man ever since. Lay by that truth in lavender, sweetest, and remind me of it when I fail. — Hood (to his wife). The paternal hearth, that rallying-place of the affections. — Washington Irving. The body has its rights and it will have them. They cannot be trampled upon or slighted without peril. The body ought to be the soul's "best friend, and cordial, dutiful helpmate. — Hare Brothers. (152) Jlkaiibii. £^0 bring the man to light, *** And make his beauty shine: To form him by the rule of right, The Decalogue divine. To sow the fertile mind While spring is in its prime, That peaceful autumn days may find A harvest-home sublime. To build the mighty fort When youth is in its glow, Whose faithful sentinels report And challenge every foe. To marshal all the powers Whose roots are in the soul, To conquer in this world of ours, In armor bright and whole. I^consider a human soul without education like marble in the quarry, which shows none of its in- 11 ( 153 ) 154 IDEALS OF LIFE. herent beauties until the skill of the polisher fetches out the colors, makes the surface shine, and discovers every ornamental cloud, spot, and vein that runs through the body of it. Education, after the same manner, when it works upon a noble mind, draws out to view every latent virtue and perfection, which without such helps are never able to make their appearance. If my reader will give me leave to change the allusion so soon upon him, I shall make use of the same instance to illustrate the force of educa- tion, which Aristotle has brought to explain his doctrine of substantial forms, when he tells us that a statue lies hid in a block of marble, and that the art of the statuary only clears away the superfluous matter and removes the rubbish. The figure is in the stone, the sculptor only finds it. What sculpture is to a block of marble, education is to the human soul. The philosopher, the saint, the hero, the wise, the good, or the great man, very often lie hid and concealed in a plebian, which a proper education might have disinterred, and have brought to light. — Addison. The fruits of the earth do not more obviously require labor and cultivation to prepare them for our use and subsistence, than our faculties demand instruction and regulation in order to qualify us to become upright and valuable members of so- ciety, useful to others, or happy in ourselves. — Barrow. Education ma)' be compared to the grafting of EDUCATION. 155 a tree. Every gardner knows that the younger the wilding-stock is that is to be grafted, the easier and the more effectual is the operation, because, then, one scion put on just above the root will become the main stem of the tree, and all the branches it puts forth will be of the right sort. When, on the other hand, a tree is to be grafted at a considerable age (which may be very successfully done), you have to put on twenty or thirty grafts on the several branches ; and after-, wards you will have to be watching from time to time for the wilding-shoots which the stock will be putting forth, and pruning them off. And even so, one whose character is to be reformed at mature age will find it necessary not merely to implant a right principle once for all, but also to bestow a distinct attention on the correction of this, that, and the other bad habit. . . . But it must not be forgotten that education resembles the graft- ing of a tree in this point also, that there must be some affinity between the stock and the graft, though a very important practical difference may exist ; for example, between a worthless crab and a fine apple. Even so, the new nature, as it may be called, superinduced by education,, must always retain some relation to the original one, though differing in most important points. You cannot, by any kind of artificial training, make any thing of any one, and obliterate all trace of the natural character. Those who hold that this is possible, and attempt to effect it, resemble Virgil, who 156 IDEALS OF LIFE. (whether in ignorance or, as some think, by way of "poetical license") talks of grafting an oak on an elm. — Whately. Thelwall thought it very unfair to influence a child's mind by inculcating any opinions before it had come to years of "discretion to choose for itself. I showed him my garden, and told him it was my botanical garden. " How so ? " said he ; " it is covered with weeds." " Oh," I replied, " that is only because it has not yet come to its age of discretion and choice. The weeds, you see, have taken the liberty to grow, and I thought it unfair in me to prejudice the soil towards roses and strawberries."— Coleridge. In one of the notes to a former publication I have quoted an old writer, who observes that " we fatten a sheep with grass, not in order to obtain a crop of hay from his back, but in the hope that he will feed us with mutton and clothe us with wool." We may apply this to the sciences : we teach a young man algebra, the mathematics, and logic, not that he should take his equations and his parallelograms into West- minster Hall, and bring his ten predicaments to the House of Commons, but that he should bring a mind to both these places so well stored with the sound principles of truth and reason as not to be deceived by the chicanery of the bar nor the sophistry of the senate. The acquirements of science may be termed the armor of the mind; but that armor would be worse than useless, EDUCATION. 157 that cost all we had, and left us nothing to de- fend. — Colton. Interesting conversation with Mr. S. on educa- tion. Astonishment and grief at the folly, espe- cially in times like the present, of those parents who totally forget, in the formation of their chil- dren's habits, to inspire that vigorous indepen- dence which acknowledges the smallest possible number of wants, and so avoids or triumphs over the negation of a thousand indulgences, by al- ways having been taught and accustomed to do without them. " How many things," said Socra- tes, " I do not want ! " — John Foster. There have been periods when the country heard with dismay that " The soldier was abroad." That is not the case now. Let the soldier be abroad : in the present age he can do nothing. There is another person abroad, — a less impor- tant persoh in the eyes of some, an insignificant person, whose labors have tended to produce this state of things. The schoolmaster is abroad ! And I trust more to him, armed with his primer, than I do the soldier in full military array, for upholding and extending the liberties of his coun- try. — Lord Brougham. I say, therefore, that the education of the peo- ple is not only a means, but the best means, of obtaining that which all allow to be a chief end of government; and, if this be so, it passes my faculties to understand how any man can gravely contend that government has nothing to do with the education of the people. 158 IDEALS OF LIFE. My confidence in my judgment is strength- ened when I recollect that I hold that opinion in common with all the greatest lawgivers, statesmen and political philosophers of all nations and ages, with all the most illustrious champions of civil and spiritual freedom, and especially with those men whose names were once held in the highest veneration by the Protestant Dissenters of Eng- land. I might cite many of the most venerable names of the Old World; but I would rather cite the example of that country which the supporters of the Voluntary System here are always recom- mending to us as a pattern. Go back to the days when the little society which has expanded into the opulent and enlightened commonwealth of Massachusetts began to exist. Our modern Dissenters will scarcely, I think, venture to speak contumeliously of those Puritans whose spirit Land and his High Commission Court could not subdue, of those Puritans who were willing to leave home and kindred, and all the comforts and refinements of civilized life, to cross the ocean , to hx their abode in forests among wild beasts and wild men, rather than commit the sin of per- forming in the house of God one gesture which they believed to be displeasing to Him. Did those brave exiles think it inconsistent with civil or religious freedom that the State should take charge of the education of the people ? No, sir; one of the earliest laws enacted by the Puritan colonists was that every township, as soon as the EDUCATION. 159 Lord had increased it to fifty houses, should ap- point one to teach all children to read and write, and that every township of a hundred houses should set up a grammar school. Nor have the descendants of those who made this law ever ceased to hold that the public authorities were bound to provide the means of public instruction. Nor is this doctrine confined to New England. " Educate the people " was the first admonition addressed by Penn to the colony which he founded. " Educate the people " was the legacy of Washington to the nation which he had saved. " Educate the people " was the unceasing exhort- ation of Jefferson : and I quote Jefferson witli peculiar pleasure, because of all the eminent men that have ever lived, Adam Smith himself not ex- cepted, Jefferson was the one who most abhorred everything like meddling on the part of govern- ments. Yet the chief business of his later years was to establish a good system of State educa- tion in Virginia. — Lord Macaulay. Costly apparatus and splendid cabinets have no magical power to make scholars. As a man is in all circumstances, under God, the master of his own fortune, so is he the maker of his -own mind. The Creator has so constituted the human intellect that it can only grow by its own action : it will certainly and necessarily grow. Every man must therefore educate himself. His books and teacher are but helps ; the work is his. A man is not educated until he has the ability to sum- 1G0 IDEALS OF LIFE. mon, in an emergency, his mental powers in vig- orous exercise to effect its proposed object. It is not the man who has seen the most, or read the most, who can do this ; such an one is in danger of being borne down, like a beast of burden, by an overloaded mass of other men's thoughts. Nor is it the man who can boast merely of na- tive vigor and capacity. The greatest of all war- riors who went to the siege of Troy had not the pre - eminence because nature had given him strength and he carried the largest bow ; but because self- discipline had taught him how to bend it. — Daniel Webster. f7]?HOU canst not live in isolation, ^^ A hermit to the world unknown, And have no part in procreation ; For something, surely, thou hast sown. Dost know a cowardly withdrawal Becomes a factor of the age, A most unsoldierly bestowal On those who have life's war to wage ? TEACHERS. 1G1 Without thy choice, thou art a teacher Appointed in this earthly school : Seek thou for wisdom and beseech her Thy lessons may abide her rule. For weal or woe, thy life forever Goes flowing down the thirsty years, A portion of the mighty river Which in the world's new life appears. It knows no pause or interruption, Thy drop of sweetness or of gall, Until the Day of Incorruption When God becometh all in all ! No human being can come into this world without increasing or diminishing the sum total of human happiness, not only of the present, but of every subsequent age of humanity. No one can detach himself from this connection. There is no sequestered spot in the universe, no dark niche along the disc of non-existence, to which he can retreat from his relations to others, where he can withdraw the influence of his existence upon the moral destiny of the world ; everywhere his pres- ence or absence will be felt, — everywhere he will have companions who will be the better or w T orse for his influence. It is an old saying, and one of fearful arid fathomless import, that we are form- ing characters for eternity. Forming characters ! Whose ? our own or others ? Both ; and in that 162 IDEALS OF LIFE. momentous fact lies the peril and responsibility of our existence. Who is sufficient for the thought ? Thousands of my fellow-beings will yearly enter eternity with characters differing from those they have carried thither had I never lived. The sun- light of that world will reveal my finger-marks in their primary formations, and in their succes- sive strata of thought and life. — Elihu Burritt. Every man is a missionary now and forever, for good or for evil, whether he intends or de- signs it or not. He may be a blot, radiating his dark influence outward to the very circumference of society ; or he may be a blessing, spreading benediction over the length and breadth of the world: but a blank he cannot be. There are no moral blanks ; there are no neutral characters. We are either the sower that sows and corrupts,, or the light that splendidly illuminates, and the salt that silently operates ; but heing dead or alive, every man speaks. — Dr. Chalmers. His very presence — says the biographer of Dr. Arnold oi Rugby — seemed to create a new spring of health and vigor within his pupils, and to give to life an interest and elevation which remained with them long after they had left him ; and dwelt so habitually in their thoughts as a living image, that, when death had taken him away, the bond appeared to be unbroken, and the sense of separation almost lost in the still deeper sense of life and a union undestructable. — Dean Stanley. Washington — wrote one who saw him only TEACHERS. 163 once — sank into his tomb before any little cele- brity had attached to my name. I passed before him as the most unknown of beings. He was in all his glory — I in the depth of my obscurity. My name dwelt probably not a whole day in his memory. Happy, however, was I that his looks were cast upon me. I have felt warmed for it all the rest of my life. There is a virtue even in the looks of a great man. — Chateaubriand. That which is born of evil begets evil ; that which is born of valor and honor teaches valor and honor. — Ruskin. It is a pity that, commonly, more care is had, yea, and that among very wise men, to find out rather a cunning man for their horse, than a cun- ning man for their children. They say nay in word, but they do so in deed. For to the one they will gladly give a stipend of two hundred crowns by year, and loth to offer to the other two hund- red shillings. God, that sitteth in heaven, laugheth their choice to scorn, and rewardeth their liberal- ity as it should, for he suffereth them to have tame and well-ordered horses, but wild and unfortunate children ; and, therefore, in the end, they find more pleasure in their horse than comfort in their children. — Ascham. There is no office higher than that of a teacher of youth, for there is nothing on earth so preci- ous as the mind, soul, character of the child. No office should be regarded with greater respect. The first minds in the community should be en- 1G4 IDEALS OF LIFE. couraged to assume it. Parents should do all but impoverish themselves to induce such to become the guardians and guides of their children. To this good, all their show and luxury should be sacrificed. Here they should be lavish, whilst they straiten themselves in everything else. They should wear the cheapest clothes, live on the plainest food, if they can in no other way secure to their families the best instruction. They should have no anxiety to accumulate property for their children, provided they can place them under influence which will awaken their faculties, inspire them with pure and high principles, and fit them to bear a manly, useful, and honorable part in the world. No language can express the cruelty or folly of that economy which, to leave a fortune to a child, starves his intellect, impoverishes his heart. There should be no economy in education. Money should never be weighed against the soul of a child. It should be poured out like water for the child's intellectual and moral life. Parents should seek an educator for the young of their families who will become to them a hearty and efficient friend, counsellor, coadjutor, in their work. If their circumstances will allow it, they should so limit the school that the instructor may know intimately every child, may become the friend of each, and may converse frequently with them in regard to each. He should be worthy of their confidence, should find their doors always open, should be among their most welcome guests, BOOKS. 165 and should study with them the discipline which the peculiarities of each pupil may require. He should give the parents warning of the least ob- liquity of mind which he discovers at school, should receive in return their suggestions as to the inju- diciousness of his own methods in regard to one or another child, and should concert with them the means of arresting every evil at its first mani- festation. Such is the teacher we need, and his value cannot be paid in gold. — Channing. imi&s* cjTRO cheer me with their blessed looks, *** Friend after friend appears, Those dear companions in my books, The children of all years. I think the thoughts which once they thought, And others gather fast ; Until around me, all unsought, There is a host so vast. And all are come as ministers Of strength and life and joy; With whom, the fair young comforters, I am again a boy. 166 IDEALS OF LIFE. And Heaven once more is very near, Almost within my reach ; And silence — silence is so dear, Surpassing silver speech ! I have friends whose society is extremely agreeable to me : they are of all ages, and of every country. They have distinguished them- selves both in the cabinet and in the field, and obtained high honors for their knowledge of the sciences. It is easy to gain access to them ; for they are always at my service, and I admit them to my company, and dismiss them from it, when- ever I please. They are never troublesome, but immediately answer every question I ask them. Some relate to me the events of past ages, while others reveal to me the secrets of nature. Some teach me how to live, and others how to die. Some, by their vivacity, drive away my cares and exhilarate my spirits, while others give fortitude to my mind, and teach me the important lesson how to restrain my desires and depend wholly on myself. They open to me, in short, the vari- ous avenues of all the arts and sciences, and upon their information I safely rely in all emer- gencies. In return for all these services they only ask me to accommodate them with a con- venient chamber in some corner of my humble habitation, where they may repose in peace : for these friends are more delighted by the tran- BOOKS. 167 quility of retirement than with the tumults of so- ciety. — Petrarch. For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them, to be as active as that soul whose progeny they are ; nay, they do preserve, as in a vial, the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them. I know they are as lively, and as vigor- ously productive, as those fabulous dragons' teeth ; and, being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet, on the other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book : who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, — God's image ; but he who destroys a good book kills reason itself, — kills the image of God, as it were, in the eye. Many a man lives a burden to the earth ; but a good book is the precious life-blood of a master-spirit, embalmed and treasured up on pur- pose to a life beyond life. — Milton. Except a living man there is nothing more wonderful than a book !— a message to us from the dead, — from human souls whom we never saw, who lived, perhaps, thousands of miles away; and yet these, in those little sheets of paper, speak to us, amuse us, terrify us, teach us, com- fort us, open their hearts to us as brothers. . . . I say we ought to reverence books, to look at them as useful and mighty things. If they are good and true, whether they are about religion or politics, farming, trade, or medicine, 168 IDEALS OF LIFE, they are the message of Christ, the maker of all things, the teacher of truth. — Charles Kingsley. Were I to pray for a taste which should stand me in stead under every variety of circumstances, and be a source of happiness and cheerfulness to me during life, and a shield against its ills, however things might go amiss, and the world frown upon me, it would be a taste for reading. Give a man this taste, and the means of grati- fying it, and you can hardly fail of making him a happy man; unless, indeed, you put into his hands a most perverse selection of Books. You place him in contact with the best society in every period of history, — with the wisest, the ten- derest, the bravest, and the purest characters who have adorned humanity. You make him a deni- zen of all nations, a contemporary of all ages. The world has been created for him. — Sir John" Herschel. Books are the food of youth, the delight of old age ; the ornament of prosperity, the refuge and comfort of adversity ; a delight at home, and no hindrance abroad ; companions by night, in travelling, in the country. — Cicero. To divert, at any time, a troublesome fancy, run to thy Books. They presently fix thee to them, and drive the other out of thy thoughts. They always receive thee with the same kind- ness. — Thomas Fuller. Without books, God is silent, justice dormant, natural science at a stand, philosophy lame, letters BOOKS. 1G9 dumb, and all things involved in Cimmerian dark- ness. — Bartholin. The book of Life is the tabernacle wherein the treasure of wisdom is to be found. The truth of voice perishes with the sound; truth latent in the mind is hidden wisdom and invisible treasure ; but the truth which illuminates books desires to manifest itself to every disciplinable sense. Let us consider how great a commodity of doctrine exists in books, — how easily, how secretly, how safely, they expose the nakedness of human ig- norance without putting it to shame. These are the masters that instruct us without rods and ferules, without harsh words and anger, without clothes or money. If you approach them, they are not asleep ; if, investigating, you interrogate them, they conceal nothing ; if you mistake them,, they never grumble ; if you are ignorant, they cannot laugh at you. — Richard de Bury. The great and good do not die, even in this world. Embalmed in books, their spirits walk abroad. The book is a living voice. It is an in- tellect to which one still listens. Hence we ever remain under the influence of the great men o£ old: " The dead but sceptred sovrans, who still rule Our spirits from their urns." The imperial intellects of the world are as much alive now as they were ages ago. Homer still lives ; and though his personal history is hidden in the mists of antiquity, his poems are 12 170 IDEALS OF LIFE. as fresh to-day as if they had been newly writ- ten. Plato still teaches his transcendent philoso- phy; Horace, Virgil, and Dante still sing as when they lived ; Shakspeare is not dead : his body was buried in 1616, but his mind is as much alive in England now, and his thoughts as far- reaching - , as in the time of the Tudors. The humblest and poorest may enter the so- ciety of these great spirits without being thought intrusive. All who can read have got the entree. Would you laugh ? Cervantes or Rabelais will laugh with you. Do you grieve ? there is Thomas a Kempis or Jeremy Taylor to grieve with and console you. Always it is to books, and the spirits of great men embalmed in them, that we turn for entertainment, for instruction, and solace —in joy and in sorrow, as in prosperity and in adversity. — Smiles. A taste for books is the pleasure and glory of my life. I would not exchange' it for the riches of the Indies. — Gibbon. Of all the things which man can do or make below, by far the most momentous, wonderful, and worthy are the things we call books.— Car- lyle, ENCOURAGEMENT. 171 OR WHAT I CARRIED TO COLLEGE. UR old New England folks, you know, " Little favor to kissing were wont to show. It smacked, they thought, too much of Satan, Whose hook often has a pleasant bate on. And even as token of purity's passion, Sometimes, I think, it was out of fashion. So at least in the home my boyhood knew, And of other homes, no doubt, it was true. My grandsire and grandma, of the olden school, Were strict observers of the proper rule. And from New Year on to the end of December A kiss is something I do not remember. Yet I cannot say, in the joy of the present, The thought of those days is at all unpleasant. Grandma, with the cares of the household on her, In the morning smoked in the chimney corner. She hung the tea-kettle filled with water While still asleep was her youngest daughter. 172 IDEALS OF LIFE. Ah ! tbgre were reasons, good and plenty, Why she should indulge that baby of twenty. The rest were all courted and married and flown,,, And that little birdie was left alone. Grandmother, when she had finished her smoking, Bustled about — she never went poking — ArA fried the pork and made the tea, And pricked the potatoes, if done to see; While grandsire finished his chapter of snores, And uncle and I were doing the chores. When breakfast was over, the Bible was read, And a prayer I still remember said. The old folks in reverence bowed them down, As those who are mindful of cross and crown.. My uncle and aunt who were unconverted, Their right to sit or stand asserted. And I, I fear, to example true, The part of a heathen acted too. But there was always for me a glory, Morning and night, in that Bible - story. The heroes and saints of the olden time In beautiful vision moved sublime. I wondered much at the valor they had, And in wondering my soul was glad. ENCOURAGEMENT. 173 My wonderment, I can hardly tell, At the boldness Jacob showed at the well, In kissing Rachel, when meeting her first ; I wondered not into tears he burst. Had I been constrained to choose between That deed at the well and. that after -scene When David and Goliah met, My heart on the fight would have certainly set. And yet there was much for a bashful boy To gather up and remember with joy. God bless my grandsire's simple heart Which made up in faith what it lacked in art, .And led me on to the best of the knowledge Which years thereafter I carried to college. Tending the cattle stalled in the ' linter,' •Going to school eight weeks in the winter ; Planting and hoeing potatoes and corn, Milking the cows at night and morn ; Spreading and raking the new - mown hay, Stowing it in the mow away ; Gathering apples and thinking of all The joys of Thanksgiving late in the fall — So passed I the years in such like scenes Until I had grown well into my teens. 174 IDEALS OF LIFE. And then, with many a dream in my heart, I struck for myself and a nobler part ; I hardly knew what, yet some higher good, Earning and spending as fast as I could ; Earning and spending in teaching and going To school, what time I to manhood was growing. My maiden aunt — and Providence Is approved in its blessed consequence — That baby of twenty to thirty had grown, And from the nest had not yet flown. And a childless aunt, my uncle's wife, Had come to gladden that quiet life. God bless them both, for they were ever The foremost to second my life's endeavor. Our aunts sometimes are almost mothers, Toiling and planning and spending for others. Aunt Hannah, the maiden, Aunt Emily, wife, How they labored to gird me for the strife, Cheering me on with words befitting, Doing my sewing and doing my knitting, And pressing upon me many a token Whose meaning was more than ever was spoken! At length the time for parting came— They both in heaven will have true fame ! ENCO UBA GEMENT. 175 1 Hey did not bid me good - bye at the stile ; They with me went through the woods a mile. It was the still September time, When the Autumn fruits were in their prime. Here and there a patch of crimson was seen Where the breath of the early frost had been. The songs of the birds were tender and sad, Yet I could not say they were not glad. Nature's soft and mellow undertone To a note like trust in the Father had grown. And that trust, I ween, in our hearts had sway, As on through the woods we wended our way. Meeting and parting fringe life below, — We parted — twenty years ago. My aunts turned back, and on went I, Striving my burning tears to dry. Almost a thousand miles away Was the Alma Mater I sought that day. To a voice I turned me on my track, And saw them both come running back. " Is something forgotten ?" soon stammered I ; And they, without a word in reply, Caught me in their arms, a great baby of twenty, And smothered me with kisses not too plenty. 176 IDEALS OF LIFE. Some joys I had known before that day, And many since have thronged my way ; But in all my seeking through forty years, In which rain-bow hopes have dried all tears, I have nothing found in the paths of knowledge, Surpassing those kisses I carried to college. Encouragement first bubbles out of the foun- tain in our own lives ; promoted, it may be, by unrecognized influences. And when the stream has fairly begun to flow, then come the tributaries, few at first, but constantly increasing. " God helps those who help themselves." So do His children, So do all the powers of Nature. It is the law of the universe. There is no encouragement from others, when there is no encouragement from ourselves. . Happening one day to see a gentleman ride by my father's house, (which was close by a pub- lic road,) I asked him what o'clock it then was ? He looked at his watch and told me. As he did that with so much good-nature, I begged him to show me the inside of his watch ; and, though he was an entire stranger, he immediately opened the watch, and put it in my hands. I saw the spring- box, with part of the chain round it; and asked him what it was that made it turn round ? He told me it was turned round by a steel spring within it. Having then never seen any other spring ENCO UBAGE3IEJSIT. 177 than that of my father's gun-lock, I asked how a spring, within a box, could turn the box so often round, as to wind all the chain upon it? He an- swered that the spring was long and thin ; that one end of it was fastened to the axis of the box, and the other end to the inside of the box, that the axis was fixed, and the box was loose upon it. I told him I did not yet thoroughly understand the matter. "Well, my lad," says he, " take a long, thin piece of whalebone ; hold one end of it fast between your finger and thumb, and wind it round your finger; it will then en- deavor to unwind itself; and if you fix the other end of it to the inside of a small hoop, and leave it to itself, it will turn the hoop round and round, and wind up a thread tied to the outside of the hoop." I thanked the gentle- man and told him I understood the thing very well. I then tried to make a watch, with wooden wheels, and made the spring of whalebone. — Fer- guson. That stranger — says one who has written much about eminent men — might probably have read the above narrative as given to the world by Fergu- son, after the talents which this little incident probably contributed to develope had raised him from his obscurity to a distinguished place among the philosophers of his age ; and if he did know this, he must have felt that encouragement in well-doing, which a benevolent man may always gather, either from the positive effects of acts of 178 IDEALS OF LIFE. kindness upon others, or their influence upon his own heart. Civility, charity, generosity, may some- times meet an ill-return ; but one person must be benefited by the exercise ; the kind heart has its own abundant reward, whatever be the gratitude of others. The case of Ferguson shows that the seed does not always fall on stony ground. It may appear somewhat absurd to dwell upon the benefit of a slight civility, which cost at most a few minutes of attention ; but it is really import- ant, that those who are easy in the world — who have all the advantages of wealth and knowledge at their command — should feel of how much value is the slightest encouragement and assistance to those who are toiling up the steep of emulation. Too often " the scoff of pride " is super-added to the "bar of poverty;" and thus it is, that many a one of the best talents, and the most generous feelings, " Has sunk into the grave unpitied and unknown,'' because the wealthy and powerful have never un- derstood the value of a helping hand to him who is struggling with fortune. — Craik. TO MBITION is the soul of progress, ^^ The chief momentum of the world AMBITION. 179 Which else were sluggish, torpid, jogless, A shell in which no life is curled. And though sometimes it be unruly, Like some high -mettled, fiery steed, Pursuing mighty schemes unduly, With self- consuming, hellish greed; Yet who, because of these abuses, Whose smoke and blackness cry, Beware? Would blot it out with all its uses Through which the world grows bright and fair? Give us ambition free from evil ; But if, dear Lord, that may not be, Then give us eyes to see the devil, And guard against his treachery. The soul, considered abstractedly from its pas- sions, is of a remiss and sedentary nature, slow in its resolves, and languishing in its executions. The use, therefore, of the passions is to stir it up and to put it upon action, to awaken the under- standing, to enforce the will, and to make the whole man more vigorous and attentive in the prosecution of his designs. As this is the end of the passions in general, so it is particularly of ambition, which pushes the soul to such actions as are apt to procure honor and reputation to the actor. But if we carry our reflections higher,. ISO IDEALS OF LIFE. we may discover farther ends of Providence in implanting this passion in mankind. It was necessary for the world that arts should be invented and improved, books written and transmitted to posterity, nations conquered and civilized. Now, since the proper and genuine motives to these, and the like great actions, would only influence virtuous minds, there would be but small improvements in the world were there not some common principle of action work- ing equally with all men : and such a principle is ambition, or a desire of fame, by which great endowments are not suffered to lie idle and use- less to the public, and many vicious men are over-reached, as it were, and engaged, contrary to their natural inclinations, in a glorious and laudable course of action. For we may further observe that men of the greatest abilities are most fired with ambition ; and that, on the con- trary, mean and narrow minds are the least actu- ated by it : whether it be that a man's sense of his own incapacities makes him despair of coming at fame, or that he has not enough range of thought to look out for any good which does not more immediately relate to his interest or conscience ; or that Providence, in the very frame of his soul, would not subject him to such a pas- sion as would be useless to the world and a tor- ment to himself. Were not this desire of fame very strong, the difficulty of obtaining it, and the danger of losing AMBITION. 181 it when obtained, would be sufficient to deter a man from so vain a pursuit. — Addison. Although imitation is one of the great instru- ments used by Providence in bringing our nature towards its perfection, yet if men gave them- selves up to imitation entirely, and each followed the other, and so on in an eternal circle, it is easy to see that there never could be any im- provement amongst them. Men must remain as brutes do, the same at the end that they are at this day, and that they were in the beginning of the world. To prevent this, God has implant- ed in man a sense of ambition, and a satisfaction arising from the contemplation of his excelling his fellows in something deemed valuable amongst them. It is this passion that drives men to all the ways we see in use of signalizing themselves,, and that tends to make whatever excites in a man the idea of this distinction so very pleasant. It has been so strong as to make very miserable men take comfort that they were supreme in misery; and certain it is that, where we cannot distinguish ourselves by something excellent, we begin to take a complacency in some singular- infirmities, follies, or defects of one kind or other. — Burke. Who shoots at the mid-day sun, though he be sure he shall never hit the mark, yet as sure he is he shall shoot higher than he who aims but at a. bush. — Sir Philip Sidney. Indeed, no man knows, when he cuts off the 182 IDEALS OF LIFE. incitements to a virtuous ambition and the just rewards of public service, what infinite mischief he may do his country through all generations. — Burke. It ought not to be the leading object of any one to become an eminent metaphysician, mathe- matician, or poet, but to render himself happy as an individual, and an agreeable, a respectable, and a useful member of society. — Dugald Stew- art. ©jpprlttttHbsu ^7j?HE time to grapple with thy foe, ^ That wild rebellious passion, And teach him in his overthrow To bide thy will and fashion. The time to catch the blessed light Which flashes out before thee, And issue from the grievous night Into the noon-tide glory. The time to seize on circumstance, And make of it a car On which to reach the bright advance Where grander treasures are. OPPOR T UNITIES. 183 The time to do the little things Which bring to thee and thine The sweet, perennial glimmerings Of happiness divine. The time to practice chanty To which all times belong, And find a daily rarity To feed thy prayer and song. We sometimes read about "starting points in life," about " opportunities," and the necessity of being on the alert to avail ourselves of them. " Here is your chance," people say ; if you miss it, do not think that, like the swallow, it will reap- pear. We do not believe in chance, nor in start- ing-points, nor in opportunities, except in this sense, that at particular times our duty may be put before us in a special and conspicuous man- ner. " Seizing our opportunities," when carefully examined into, means nothing more than seizing an occasion of doing our duty. It is true, there- fore, to some extent, that to every man his oppor- tunity comes once in his life, and that if he per- mits it to glide by it will never return; because it is certain that, if we once neglect any obvious duty, we shall never again be in a position to retrieve the laches. But do not let the reader sit down by the wayside and wait for his " opportun- ity," as for some miraculous boon to descend sud- denly and unexpectedly from the blue heavens 184 IDEALS OF LIFE. above him. Energy makes its own opportunities, because energy is always prompt to detect and ready to execute the work that has to be done. An engine-driver in charge of a crowded train saw lying across the rails at some distance in front of him a piece of timber which menaced his freight with wounds and death. Quick as thought he crept along the side of the engine, and leaning forward, by a supreme effort swung the log out of the way just as the iron wheels were upon it. He risked his life, but he did his duty. After- wards he was rewarded with promotion and hand- some gifts ; he had found his opportunity, his starting point, his chance. Yes ; but it was in doing his duty that he found it. " There are things," says Goethe, " which you do not notice only because you do not look at them ;" and so there are duties which we never recognize be- cause we will not look for them. It is related of a Mr. Godfrey, Governor of the Bank of Eng- land, that he made his appearance on the battle- field of Waterloo. The Duke of Wellington re- monstrated with him on the danger he was incurring. The gentleman answered that the Duke himself ran an equal risk. " Yes," said the Duke,, but I am doing my duty. He had scarcely spoken when a ball struck the rash intruder dead. There was no glory in his death: it was a melancholy failure. He was outside the sphere of his duty. The opportunity at Waterloo was not for him, but for the Duke and the men who conquered EMPLOYMENT. lg& with him. "Though a battle," said Napoleon, " may last a whole day, there are generally some ten minutes in which its issue is practically de- cided." And so, though life may last fifty, or sixty, or seventy years, there is always a moment when our duty is clearly presented to us, and according as we seize or neglect it, will be our suc- cess or failure. Only let us not be led astray by any fancied " opportunity," any imaginary " chance." Let us, like the Duke of Wellington, before we enter the thick of the fire, be sure that duty calls us thither. — Adams. Every one has a fair turn to be as great as he pleases. — Jeremy Collier. Opportunity has hair in front, behind she is bald: if you seize her by the forelock you may hold her, but, if suffered to escape, not Jupiter himself can catch her again. — From the Latin. Opportunity is, in respect to time, in some sense, as time is in respect to eternity: it is the small moment, the exact point, the critical minute, on which every good work so much depends.— Sprat. Jlmj^ttmtl |THE Father hitherto *** And His Eternal Son 13 136 IDEALS OF LIFE. Work, work, and still have work to do With each successive sun. Work is the law of love Which rules the world below, Which rules the brighter world above, Through which like God we grow. And so I work in awe, As working with the Lord, Who in the mightiness of law Is everywhere abroad. Who in his heart rebels Has never ears to hear The morning and the evening bells In Heaven and Earth so clear. I don't believe — said the lord rector of Glas- gow University to the students of that institution — I don't believe that an unemployed man, how- ever amiable and otherwise respectable, ever was, or ever can be, really happy. As work is our life, show me what you can do, and I will show you what you are. I have spoken of love of one's work as the best preventive of merely low and vicious tastes. I will go further, and say that it is the best preservative against petty anxieties, and the annoyances that arise out of indulged self-love. Men have thought before now that they could take refuge from trouble and vexation by sheltering themselves, as it were, in a world EMPLOYMENT, 187 of their own. The experiment has often been tried, and always with one result. You can not escape from anxiety and labor — it is the destiny of humanity. ■ . . Those who shirk from fac- ing trouble find that trouble comes to them. The indolent may contrive that he shall have less than his share of the world's work to do, but Nature, proportioning the instinct to the work, contrives that the little shall be much and hard to him. The man who has only himself to please finds, sooner or later, and probably sooner than later, that he has got a very hard master ; and the excessive weakness which shrinks from re- sponsibility has its own punishment too, for where great interests are excluded little matters become great, and the same wear and tear of mind that might have been at least usefully and healthfully expended on the real business of life is often wasted in petty and imaginary vexations, such as breed and multiply in the unoccupied brain. — Lord Stanley. I cannot too much impress upon your mind — wrote the author of Waverly to his son Charles — -that labor is the condition which God has im- posed on us in every station of life ; there is nothing worth having that can be had without it, from the bread which the peasant wins with the sweat of his brow to the sports by which the rich man must get rid of his ennui. . . . As for knowledge, it can no more be planted in the human mind without labor than a field of wheat 183 IDEALS OF LIFE. can be produced without the previous use of the plough. There is, indeed, this great difference,, that chance or circumstances may so cause it that another shall reap what the farmer sows ; but no man can be deprived, whether by accident or mis- fortune, of the fruits of his own studies ; and the liberal and extended acquisitions of knowledge which he makes are all for his own use. Labor,, therefore, my dear boy, and improve the time. In youth our steps are light, and our minds are ductile, and knowledge is easily laid up ; but if we neglect our spring, our summers will be use- less and contemptible, our harvest will be chaff, and the winter of our old age unrespected and desolate. — Sir Walter Scott. I myself — wrote a mother to her married; daughter — when the children are gone out for a half-holiday, sometimes feel as stupid and as dull as an owl by daylight; but one must not yield to- rtus, which happens more or less to all young wives. The best relief is work, engaged in with interest and diligence. Work, then, constantly and diligently, at something or other ; for idleness is the devil's snare for small and great, as your grandfather says, and he says true. — Caroline Perthes. Exert your talents and distinguish yourself, and don't think of retiring from the world until the world will be sorry that you retire. I hate & fellow whom pride, or cowardice, or laziness, drives, into a corner, and who does nothing when he is. SPONGE, OR FOUNTAIN? 189 there but sit and growl. Let him come out as I do, and bark. — Dr. Johnson. £;T?0 be forever drinking in, *** And never giving out a willing drop ? Or, having stores so bountiful within, In giving out to never stop ? Of all that have tried the selfish .experiment, let one come forth and say he has succeeded. He that has made gold his idol — has it satisfied him ? He that has toiled in the fields of ambition — has he been repayed ? He that has ransacked every theatre of sensual enjoyment — is he content? Can any answer in the affirmative ? Not one. And when his conscience shall ask him, and ask it will, "Where are the hungry whom you gave meat ? The thirsty whom you gave drink ? The stranger whom you sheltered ? The naked whom you clothed ? The prisoner whom you visited ? The sick whom you ministered unto ?" how will he feel when he must answer, " I have done none of these things, — I thought only of myself!" — Dr, Johnson. 190 IDEALS OF LIFE. There are those who live to do all the good they can to the bodies and to the souls of their fellow-men, to spread comfort and goodness and happiness around them, or, in a wider sphere, to promote the social, intellectual, moral and spiritual advancement of the human race. These are the elect, the true and noble heroes among men, who have entered into the inmost spirit of the Son of Man ; have eaten His flesh and drank His blood ; have imbibed from Him and become penetrated with that sublime enthusiasm of humanity, of which the Son of Man is the only perfect historical ex- ample. Blessed are such; and great is their suc- cess in life, wherever they work or die. — C. S. Henry. urns* DWELLING where the Lord bestows His presence as the life and light; And gives to poverty delight Which wealth without Him never knows. A little world, a world within, Where that confusion is unknown, Which was of old at Babel shown When first the earth was cursed with sin, HOME. 191 A " Paradise Regained " on earth, Where father, mother, husband, wife, And love's dear pledges are one life, God's music round the common hearth. A fountain whence forever pour Fair streams to gladden life beyond ; Whose healing waters correspond To heaven's perennial endless store. Who aims at such a home as this, Although perfection linger long, Attained but in his prayer and song, Enjoys the highest earthly bliss. If ever household affections and love are grace- ful things, they are graceful in the poor. The ties that bind the wealthy and the proud at home may be forged on earth, but those which link the poor man to his humble hearth are of the true metal and bear the stamp of heaven. The man of high descent may love the halls and lands of his inheritance as a part of himself, as trophies of his birth and power; the poor man's attachment to the tenement he holds, which strangers have held before, and may to-morrow occupy again, has a worthier root, struck deep into a pure soil. His household gods are of flesh and blood, with no alloy of silver, gold, or precious stones ; he has no property but in the affections of his own heart • and when they endear bare floors and walls, de- 192 IDEALS OF LIFE. spite of toil and scanty meals, that man has his love of home from God, and his rude hut becomes a solemn place. — Dickens. How many opportunities have we of giving de- ligt to those who live in our domestic circle, which would be lost before we could difuse it to those who are distant from us ! Our love, there- fore, our desire of giving happiness, our pleasure in having given it, are stronger within the limits of this sphere of daily and hourly intercourse than beyond it Of those who are beyond this sphere* the individuals most familiar to us are those whose happiness we must always know better how to promote than the happiness of strangers, with whose particular habits and inclinations we are little if at all acquainted. — Dr. Brown. Are you not surprised to find how independ- ent of money peace of conscience is, and how much happiness can be condensed in the humblest home? A cottage will not hold the bulky fur- niture and sumptuous accomodations of a mansion ; but if God be there, a cottage will hold as much happiness as might stock a palace. — Dr. James Hamilton. Resolve — and tell your wife of your good re- solution. She will aid it all she can. Her step will be lighter and her hand will be busier all day, expecting the comfortable evening at home when you return. Household affairs will have been well attended to. A place for everything, and every- thing in its place, will, like some good genius, CHILDHOOD. 193 have made even a humble home the scene of neatness, arrangement, and taste. The table will be ready at the fireside. The loaf will be one of that order which says, by its appearance, you may come and cut again. The cups and saucers will be waiting for supplies. The kettle will be singing ; and the children, happy with fresh air and exercise, will be smiling in their glad antici- pation of that evening meal when father is at home, and of the pleasant reading afterwards. — Sir Arthur Helps. |Hb|oA LITTLE child, not more than five, In every feature all alive, I did around my father fling The power and glory of a king. And loyalty as sweet and true As any monarch ever knew, Bore me exceeding great reward, ■ My first ideal of the Lord. As disenchanting years went by With questionings of how and why, 194 IDEALS OF LIFE. And bore away so painfully The beautiful reality, — Doubtless, as in the outward eye, The vision faded — did it die ? It died as dies the golden morn When into noonday whiteness born — For always in the school of Christ The lower must be sacrificed — And so it went on climbing still And reached the fount whence came the rill,— The sweetness of the perfect Man Built on the old primeval plan, With sweetness of the perfect God Whose presence can by man be trod. ii. A little child, not more than seven, As pure as when just out of heaven, Didst thou not see on earth a glory Thou hast not found in song or story? It was the light from heaven's portal, Too fair for tongue or pen of mortal, The memory of which is beauty On all the rugged ways of duty. But is it gone, that revelation, Now but a far-off consolation? If thou art one of God's true - hearted, Be sure it has not yet departed. CHILDHOOD. 195 Though thou hast passed through many a wildwood, That wondrous glory of thy childhood Now shines within thee, pure and vernal, Because thy birthright is eternal. And though thy years be many a seven, Yet art thou very near to heaven, Whose light is everywhere a glory Unbuilded into song or story. A child is a man in a small letter, yet the best copy of Adam ; and he is happy whose small practice in the world can only write his character. He is Nature's fresh picture newly drawn in oil, which time and much handling dims and defaces. His soul is yet a white paper, un- scribbled with observations of the world, where- with at length it becomes a blurred note-book. He is purely happy, because he knows no evil, nor hath made means by sin to be acquainted with misery. He arrives not at the mischief of being wise, nor endures evils to come by foresee- ing them. He kisses and loves all, and when the smart of the rod is past, smiles on his beater. Nature and his parents alike dandle him, and entice him on with a bit of sugar to a draught of wormwood. He plays yet like a young pren- tice the first day, and is not come to his task of melancholy. All the language he speaks yet is. tears, and they serve him well enough to ex- 196 IDEALS OF LIFE. press his necessity. His hardest labor is his tongue, as if he were loth to use so deceitful an organ, and he is best company with it when he can but prattle. We laugh at his foolish sports, but his game is our earnest ; and his drums, rattles, and hobby-horses, but the em- blems and mockings of men's business. His father has writ him as his own little story, wherein he reads those days of his life which he cannot remember, and sighs to see what inno- cence he has outlived. He is the Christian's ex- ample, and the old man's relapse ; the one imi- tates his pureness, and the other falls into his simplicity. Could he put off his body with his little coat, he had got eternity without a burden and but exchanged one heaven for another. — Bishop Earle. All minds, even the dullest, remember the days of their childhood ; but all cannot bring back the indescribable brightness of that blessed season. They who would know what they once were, must not merely recollect, but they must imagine, the hills and valleys — if any such there were — in which their childhood played ; the tor- rents, the waterfalls, the lakes, the heather, the rocks, the heaven's imperial dome, the raven floating only a little lower than the eagle in the sky. To imagine what he then heard and saw, he must imagine his own nature. He must col- lect from many vanished hours the power of his untamed heart ; and he must, perhaps, transfuse PLIGHTED LOVE. \m also something of his maturer mind into those dreams of his former being, thus linking the past with the present by a continuous chain, which, though often invisible, is never broken. So it is, too, with the calmer affections that have grown within the shelter of a roof. We do not merely remember, we imagine, our father's house, the fireside, all his features, then most living, now dead and buried, the very manner of his smile, every tone of his voice. We must combine, with all the passionate and plastic power of imagina- tion, the spirit of a thousand happy hours into one moment ; and we must invest with all that we ever felt to be venerable, such an image as alone can fill our filial hearts. It is thus that imagination, which first aided the growth of all our holiest and happiest affections, can preserve: them to us unimpaired, — 11 For she can bring us back the dead Even in the loveliest looks they wore." — Washington Irving. YEAR hath rolled On a track of gold, Since first our vows we plighted ; eP: 198 IDEALS OF LIFE. Yet it seems but a day Hath glided away, So bright is the love we lighted. This love we name, This virgin flame, will it from clear to clearer Till the Jasper wall On our vision fall As we hasten from near to nearer ? Again thy yes, With its power to bless, Good faries to me deliver ; And I bid them return With a blessing I yearn To bestow on their mistress the giver. Love is a fire that, kindling its first embers in the narrow nook of a private bosom, caught from a wandering spark out of another private heart, glows and enlarges until it warms and beams upon multitudes of men and women, upon the universal heart of all, and so lights up the whole world and nature with its generous flame. — Emerson. Love one human being purely and warmly, and you will love all. The heart in this heaven, like the wandering sun, sees nothing, from the dewdrop to the ocean, but a mirror which it warms and fills. — Richter. PLIGHTED LOVE. 199 Love doth seldom suffer itself to be confined by other matches than those of its own making. — Boyle. Love is not altogether a delirium, yet it has many points in common therewith. I call it rather the discerning of the infinite in the finite, of the ideal made real. — Carlyle. Love, like fire, cannot subsist without continual movement ; so soon as it ceases to hope and fear, it ceases to exist. — Rochefoucauld. Love is like a painter, who in drawing the pic- ture of a friend having a blemish in one eye, would picture only the other side of the face. — South. Love is better than spectacles to make every- thing seem great. — Sir Philip Sidney. Love that has nothing but beauty to keep it in good health is short-lived, and apt to have ague fits. — Erasmus. For the whole endeavor of both parties, dur- ing the time of courtship, Is to hinder themselves from being known, and to disguise their natural temper, and real desires, in hypocritical imitation, studied compliance, and continued affectation. From the time that their love is avowed, neither sees the other but in a mask, and the cheat is managed often on both sides with so much art, and discovered afterwards with so much abrupt- ness, that each has reason to suspect that some transformation has happened on the wedding- night, and that, by a strange imposture, one has been courted and another married. 200 IDEALS OF LIFE. I desire you, therefore, Mr. Rambler, to ques- tion all who shall hereafter come to you with matrimonial complaints, concerning their behavior in the time of courtship, and inform them that they are neither to wonder nor repine, when a contract begun with fraud has ended in disap- pointment. — Dr. Johnson. When a woman is deliberating with herself whom she shall choose of many near each other in other pretensions, certainly he of best under- standing is to be preferred. Life hangs heavily in the repeated conversation of one who has no im- agination to be fired at the several occasions and objects which come before him, or who cannot strike out of his own reflections new paths of pleasing discourse. — Sir Richard Steele. The advantages, as I was going to say, of sense, beauty, and riches, are what are certainly the chief motives to a prudent young woman of fortune for changing her condition ; but as she is to have her eye upon each of these, she is to ask herself whether the man who has the most of these recommendations in the lump is not the most desirable. He that has excellent talents, with a moderate estate, and an agreeable person,, is preferable to him who is only rich, if it were only that good faculties may purchase riches ; but riches cannot purchase worthy endowments. I do not mean that wit, and a capacity to enter- tain, is what should be highly valued, except it is founded on good nature and humanity. There WEDDED LOVE. 201 are many ingenious men whose abilities do little else but make themselves and those about them uneasy. — Sir. Richard Steele. Tom hinting at his dislike of some trifle his mistress had said, she asked him how he would talk to her after marriage if he talked at this rate before ? — Addison. H[*iW Jbti& ,F all the blessed things below To hint the joys above, There is not one our hearts may know So dear as mated love. It walks the garden of the Lord, It gives itself away : To give and think not of reward Is glory day by day. The sweetness of eternal June Is cradled in • its flowers ; And hark! a stirring martial rune Goes sounding through its bowers r "The field which thou must conquer here Is dark and broad and long; 14 202 IDEALS OF LIFE. And thou must gird thee with the cheer Which keeps the mighty strong. "Thou wast not meant for languid rest, Nor dowered for base repose : In action only art thou blest Until the battle's close ! " And though sometimes the shadows fall, And day is dark as night, It bows and drinks the cup of gall, But gives not up the fight. For One is in the union where The mine is ever thine, Whose presence keeps it brave and fair, A melody divine. Better than the best of friends is a good wife. Perhaps we should rather say that a good wife is the best of all friends. We hold it essential to a young man's success, whether his calling be that of a merchant or trader, priest, engineer, or lawyer, artist or man of letters, that he should marry well and marry early. The prejudice against early marriages seems to us to have originated in sordid motives. It is intimately connected with that selfishness, that love of out- ward show, and that luxurious indulgence which have corrupted our social system. It seems to be assumed that marriage must be deferred until the man has "sown his wild oats," in other words, WEDDED LOVE. 203 has sullied his soul by contact with the whole circle of the world's pleasures, and the woman can be placed at the head of an expensive house- hold. Now we are convinced, from long obser- vation, that an early marriage is a young man's surest guarantee of happiness. We are sure that it is his best security against temptation, and the most admirable incentive to honest and inde- pendent exertion that can be presented to him. To love a good woman is in itself a fine educa- tion : to marry her and work for her is in itself a source of the truest happiness. Early mar- riage sometimes turns out ill, and so do late marriages ; so do all marriages which are made in an unworthy spirit or for mean purposes, which are not marriages of heart and soul and mind, but " alliances " contracted for worldly rea- sons or no reasons at all. It is requisite that a man, in seeking a wife, should take at least as much thought as in seeking a friend ; should endeavor to know something of her temper, char- acter, and disposition ; should ascertain whether her nature will harmonize with his, and whether it be one which he can respect and admire. If it be unwise to choose a friend who falls below our own standard, much more unwise is it to choose a wife who cannot be our companion on terms of the fullest equality, who cannot share our thoughts, our aspirations, and our hopes. Supposing a young man to have met with a maiden to whom he can unreservedly trust his 204 IDEALS OF LIFE. future happiness, we say that the sooner he makes her his wife the better for both of them. Let them spend in sweet and joyful union their early years of exertion and industry, and those early years will furnish them with pleasant mem- ories to be recalled in the autumn days of life, when the battle has been fought, and, let us hope, the victory won. It is a good thing for a hus- band and wife to have the same past * to look back upon. Again, what can be more unfair than that a man who has expended his ripe man- hood in gross self-indulgence should offer his wasted, decayed, and battered nature to a young girl, with all the bloom of spring still upon her mind and heart? For it is to be observed that those who condemn early marriages condemn them only for the man and not for the woman. They do not say that a man of forty should marry a woman of the same age. No, indeed ; he is free to offer himself, with all his world- weary, exhausted heart and his "handsome settle- ments," to maidenhood in all its freshness and all its innocence ! In such a case there can seldom be any thorough sympathy, any heart-to-heart understanding, between husband and wife. Not only is the difference of years between them, but a past which they have not shared together ; ex- periences on the husband's side wholly unknown to the wife ; young hopes and aspirations on the wife's side at which the husband cannot even guess. Let him who would enter on the race of WEDDED LOVE. 205 life with reasonable anticipations of success not neglect to secure at starting not only a good friend but a good wife ; he may haply dispense with the former, but for his soul's sake he can- not do without the latter. But then, he must first look upon marriage as a boon from God, to be gained from Him alone by earnest prayer, by intense repentance, and complete confession of youthful sins. " Man," says Charles Kingsley, "is a spirit animal, and, in communion with God's Spirit, has a right to believe that his affections are under that Spirit's guidance, and that when he finds in himself such an affection to any single woman as true married lovers describe theirs to be, he is bound (duty to parents and country allowing) to give himself up to his love in child- like simplicity and self-abandonment, and, at the same time, with solemn awe and self-humiliation at being thus re-admitted into the very garden of the Lord — " The Eden where the spirit and the flesh Are one again, and new-born souls walk free, And name in mystic language all things new, Naked and not ashamed." — Adams. Business does but lay waste the approaches to the heart, while marriage garrisons the for- tress. — Sir Henry Taylor. Matrimony hath something in it of nature, something of civility, something of divinity. — Bishop Hall. Marriage is an institution calculated for a con- 206 IDEALS OF LIFE. stant scene of as much delight as our being is capable of. — Sir Richard Steele. Husbands must give to their wives love, main- tenance, duty, and the sweetness of conversation ; and wives must pay to them all they have or can, with the interest of obedience and reverence : and they must be complicated in affections and interest, that there be no distinction between them of mine and thine. — Jeremy Taylor. Qj£*®)g9fg)- IJuIhim Jtfy OME hither, come hither, my children five, ^ And gather around the cheerful hearth ; And think of the Child forever alive, The Prince of all children in Heaven and Earth. Come hither, come hither, my daughters four, And tell me the tale of your sunny hearts : It is something, no doubt, I have heard before, For into a poem it daily starts. Come hither, come hither, my little son, And join in the story that must be told. His eye has a twinkle which tells of fun ; Will it cease, I wonder, what time he grows old ? CHILDREN. 207 Now, Mamie, my eldest, what do you say ? I wait not the speech those eyes so well show. Don't blush ; 'tis no sin to the sweet maiden May, And love that is silent is strongest, we know. Well, Emma, I ween, has a tongue that can prove How many a thing can be told in a minute. " Yes, papa, and now when it speaks of my love» Believe that for once it has something in it." The little witch Jessie now takes her part In the oft told story of fireside bliss ; And while I am folding her close to my heart, She through my moustache finds the place for a kiss. Wee Rachel, the last of my girls, comes next. Her name makes her dearer than all the rest, I think of a Sunday I'll make her my text, And the sermon, I know, will be my best. Now Jamie has something to say, no doubt, For great is the love of an only son. He wiggles about and at last speaks out: " Papa, it's only a dog and a gun." An only son? An only son? And have I forgotten so soon the grace Which many a loving tribute won, The glow of another dear little face ? He does not answer my call to-night, Just as the other children do ; 208 IDEALS OF LIFE. But still he replies with a gleam of light, As of one who remains forever true. Before his brother and sisters he, The dear little Archie, has gone to rest ; He knoweth before us the things to be ; The Father appointeth what is best. His naaie was given the Daughter of Zion, Forever and forever to keep ; Now over his bed at night Orion Doth watch his sweet untroubled sleep. Come nearer, come nearer, my children five, And pray unto Heaven to keep you from harm Rr member with me the dead is alive ; ,^i the cradle of God he is safe and warm. Tell me not of the trim, precisely - arranged homes where there are no children ; " where," as the good Germans have it, " the fly-traps always hang straight on the wall ; " tell me not of the never-disturbed nights and days, of the tranquil, unanxious hearts, where children are not! I care not for these things. God sends children for an- other purpose than merely to keep up the race: — to enlarge our hearts, to make us unselfish, and full of kindly sympathies and affections ; to give our souls higher aims, and to call out all our faculties to extended enterprises and exertion ; to bring round our fireside bright faces and happy smiles, and loving, tender hearts. My soul blesses CHILDREN. 20p the Great Father every day, that he has glad- dened the earth with little children. — Mary Ho WITT. A child's eyes! those clear wells of undefiled thought ; what on earth can be more beautiful ! Full of hope, love, and curiosity, they meet your own. In prayer, how earnest ; in joy, how spark- ling; in sympathy, how tender! The man who never tried the companionship of a little child has carelessly passed by one of the great pleas- ures of life, as one passes a rare flower without plucking it or knowing its value. A child can- not understand you, you think : speak to it of the holy things of your religion, of your grief for the loss of a friend, of your love for some one you fear will not love in return: it will take, it is true, no measure or soundings of your thought ; it will not judge how much you should believe ; whether your grief is natural in propor- tion to your loss ; whether you are worthy or fit to attract the love which you seek ; but its whole soul will incline to yours, and ingraft itself, as it were, on the feeling which is your feeling for the hour. — Hon. Mrs. Norton. In order to form the minds of children, the first thing to be done is to conquer their will. To inform the understanding is a work of time, and must, with children, proceed by slow degrees, as they are able to bear it ; but the subjecting must be done at once, and the sooner the better ; for, by neglecting timely correction, they will con- 210 IDEALS OF LIFE. tract a stubbornness and obstinacy which are hardly ever conquered, and not without using such severity as would be as painful to me as die child. In the esteem of the world they pass for kind and indulgent, whom I call cruel, pa- rents, who permit their children to get habits which they know must afterwards be broken, when the will of a child is subdued, and it is brought to revere and stand in awe of its pa- rents, then a great many childish follies and in- advertencies may be passed by. Some should be overlooked, and others mildly reproved ; but no wilful transgression ought to be forgiven without such chastisement, less or more, as the nature and circumstances of the offence may re- quire. I insist upon conquering the will of chil- dren betimes, because this is the only strong and rational foundation of a religious education, with- out which both precept and example will be in- effectual. But when this is thoroughly done, then a child is capable of being governed by the rea- son and piety of its parents till its own under- standing comes to maturity, and the principles of religion have taken root in the mind. — Mrs. Wesley. In books designed for children there are two extremes that should be avoided. The one, that reference to religious principles in connection with matters too trifling and undignified, arising from a well-intentioned zeal, causing a forgetful- ness of the maxim whose notorious truth has WOaMAN'S WORK. 211 made it proverbial, " Too much familiarity breeds contempt." And the other is the contrary, and still more prevailing, extreme, arising from a de- sire to preserve a due reverence for religion, at the expense of its useful application in conduct. But a line may be drawn which will keep clear of both extremes. We should not exclude the as- sociation of things sacred with whatever are to ourselves trifling matters (for these little things are great to children), but what is viewed by them as trifling. Everything is great or small to the parties concerned. The private concerns of any obscure individual are very insignificant to the world at large, but they are of great importance to himself, and all worldly affairs must be small in the sight of the Most High ; but irreverent familiarity is engendered in the mind of any one, then, and then only, when things sacred are as- sociated with such as are, to him, insignificant things. — Whatelv. ■»*«==- mtti% lljcrk g£|7HE tender devotion of woman ^ All fair of a heart that is human, 212 IDEALS OF LIFE. Becomes from its beautiful birth The loftiest thing of the earth. It purifies earth - lighted passions, It burns with an ardor that fashions And moulds to a higher resolve The hopes that so lowly revolve. It glows in the wife and the mother, A fire no disaster can smother, Remaining a symbol forever Of Love's everlasting endeavor. O blessed is he that has found it ! Where, where is the plummet to sound it, The tender devotion of woman All pure of a heart that is human ! One good mother, said George Herbert, is worth a hundred school -masters. In the home she is " loadstone to all hearts, and loadstar to all eyes." Imitation of her is constant — imitation, which Bacon likens to a "globe of precepts." But example is far more than precept. It is in- struction in action. It is teaching without words, often exemplifying more than tongue can teach. In the face of bad example, the best of precepts are but of little avail. The example is followed, not the precepts. Indeed, precept at variance with practice is worse than useless, inasmuch as it only serves to teach the most cowardly of vices — hypocrisy. Even children are judges of con- WOMAXS WORK. 213- . sistency, and the lessons of the parent who says one thing- and does the opposite, are quickly seen through. The teaching of the friar was not worth much who preached the virtue of honesty with a stolen goose in his sleeve. By imitation of acts, the character becomes slowly and imperceptibly, but at length decidedly formed. The several acts may seem in them- selves trivial ; but so are the continuous acts of daily life. Like snow-flakes, they fall unperceived;. each flake added to the pile produces no sensible change, and yet the accumulation of snow-flakes. makes the avalanche. So do repeated acts, one following another, at length become consolidated in habit, determine the action of the human being for good or for evil, and, in a word, form the- character. It is because the mother, far more than the father, influences the action and conduct of the child, that her good example is of so much greater importance in the home. It is easy to understand why this should be so. The home is the woman's domain — her kingdom, where she exercises entire control. Her power over the little subjects she rules there is absolute. They look up to her for everything. She is the exam- ple and model constantly before their eyes, whom they unconsciously observe and imitate. Cowley, speaking of the influence of early example, and ideas early implanted in the mind, compares them to letters cut in the bark of a 214 IDEALS OF LIFE. young tree, which grow and widen with age. The impressions then made, howsoever slight they may seem, are never effaced. The ideas then implanted in the mind are like seeds dropped into the ground, which lie there and germinate for a time, afterwards springing up in acts and thoughts and habits. Thus the mother lives again in her children. They unconsciously mould themselves after her manner, her speech, her conduct, and her method of life. Her habits become theirs ; and her character is visibly re- peated in them. This maternal love is the visible providence of our race. Its influence is constant and uni- versal. It begins with the education of the hu- man being at the outstart of life, and is pro- longed by virtue of the powerful influence which every good mother exercises over her children through life. When launched into the world, each to take part in its labors, anxieties, and trials, they still turn to their mother for consolation, if not for counsel, in their time of trouble and diffi- culty. The pure and good thoughts she has im- planted in their minds when children continue to grow up into good acts long after she is dead ; and when there is nothing but a memory of her left, her children rise up and call her blessed. It is not saying too much to aver that the happiness or misery, the enlightenment or ignor- ance, the civilization or barbarism of the -world, depends in a very high degree upon the exercise WOMAN'S WORK. 215 of woman's power within her special kingdom of home. Indeed, Emerson says, broadly and truly, that " a sufficient measure of civilization is the influence of good women." Posterity may be said to be before us in the person of the child in the mother's lap. What that child will eventually become, mainly depends upon the training and example which he has received from his first and most influential educator. Woman, above all other educators, educates humanly. Man is the brain, but woman is the heart of humanity ; he its judgment, she its feel- ing; he its strength, she its grace, ornament, and solace. Even the understanding of the best woman seems to work mainly through her affec- tions. And thus, though man may direct the in- tellect, woman cultivates the feelings, which mainly determine the character. While he fills the memory, she occupies the heart. She makes us love what he can only make us believe, and it is chiefly through her that we are enabled to arrive at virtue. The respective influences of the father and the mother on the training and development of character are remarkably illustrated in the life of St. Augustine. While Augustine's father, a poor freeman of Thagaste, proud of his son's abilities, endeavored to furnish his mind with the highest learning of the schools, and was extolled by the neighbors for the sacrifice he made with that object "beyond the ability of his means" — his 216 IDEALS OF LU-jS. mother, Monica, on the other hand, sought to^ lead her son's mind in the direction of the high- est good, and with pious care counselled him, entreated him, advised him to chastity, and amidst much anguish and tribulation, because of his wicked life, never ceased to pray for him until her prayers were heard and answered. Thus her love at last triumphed, and the patience and the goodness of the mother were rewarded, not only by the conversion of her gifted son, but also of her husband. Later in life, and after her husband's death, Monica, drawn by her affection, followed her son to Milan, to watch over him ; and there she died, when he was in his thirty- third year. But it was in the earlier period of his life that her example and instruction made the deepest impression upon his mind, and deter- mined his future character. There are many similar instances of early im- pressions made upon a child's mind, springing up into good acts late in life, after an intervening period of selfishness and vice. Parents may do all that they can to develop an upright and vir- tuous character in their children, and apparently in vain. It seems like bread cast upon the waters and lost. And yet sometimes it happens that long after the parents have gone to their rest — it may be twenty years or more — the good precept, the good example set before their sons and daughters in childhood, at length springs up and bears fruit. WOMAN'S WORK. 217 One of the most remarkable of such instances was that of the Reverend John Newton, of Olney,. the friend of Cowper, the poet. It was long sub- sequent to the death of both his parents, and after leading a vicious life as a youth and as a seaman, that he became suddenly awakened to a sense of his depravity ; and then it was that the lessons which his mother had given him when a child sprang up vividly in his memory. Her voice came to him as it were from the dead, and led him gently back to virtue and goodness. Another instance is that of John Randolph... the American statesman, who once said : " I should have been an athiest if it had not been for one recollection — and that was the memory of the - time when my departed mother used to take my little hand in hers, and cause me on my knees to^ say, 'Our Father which art in heaven !' " But such instances must on the whole, be re- garded as exceptional. As the character is biased in early life, so it generally remains, gradually assuming its permanent form as manhood is reached. " Live as long as you may," said Southey, "the first twenty years are the longest half of your life," and they are by far the most pregnant in consequence. When the worn-out slanderer and voluptuary, Dr. Wolcot, lay on his death-bed, one of his friends asked if he could do anything to gratify him. " Yes," said the dying man, " give me back my youth." Give him but that, and he would repent — he would reform. But it was all 15 218 IDEALS OF LIFE. too late ! His life had become bound and en- thralled by the chains of habit. Gretry, the musical composer, thought so highly of the importance of woman as an edu- cator of character, that he described a good mother as " Nature's chef d'aeuvre." And he was right: for good mothers, far more than fathers, tend to the perpetual renovation of mankind, creating as they do the moral atmosphere of the home, which is the nutriment of man's moral be- ing, as the physical atmosphere is of his corporeal frame. By good temper, sauvity, and kindness, directed by intelligence, woman surrounds the in- dwellers with a pervading atmosphere of cheer- fulness, contentment, and peace, suitable for the growth of the purest as of the manliest natures. The poorest dwelling, presided over by a vir- tuous, thrifty, cheerful, and cleanly woman, may thus be the abode of comfort, virtue and happi- ness ; it may be the scene of every ennobling relation in family life ; it may be endeared to a man by many delightful associations ; furnishing a sanctuary for the heart, a refuge from the storms of life, a sweet retiring-place after labor, a con- solation in misfortune, a pride in prosperity, and a joy at all times. The good home is thus the best of schools, not only in youth but in age. There young and old best learn cheerfulness, patience, self-control and the spirit of service and of duty. Izaak Wal- ton, speaking of George Herbert's mother, says WOMAN'S WORK. 219 she governed her family with judicious care, not rigidly nor sourly, " but with such a sweetness and compliance with the recreations and pleasures of youth, as did incline them to spend much of their time in her company, which was to her great content." The home is the true school of courtesy, of which a woman is always the best practical in- structor. " Without woman," says a Provencal pro- verb, " men were but ill-licked cubs." " To love the little platoon we belong to in society," said Burke, " is the germ of all public affections." The wisest and the best have not been ashamed to own it to be their greatest joy and happiness to sit " behind the heads of children " in the in- violable circle of home. A life of purity and duty there is not the least effectual preparative for a life of public work and duty ; and the man who loves his home will not the less fondly love and serve his country. — Smiles. I have never addressed myself in the language of decency and friendship to a woman, whether civilized or savage, without receiving a decent and friendly answer. With men it has often been otherwise. In wandering over the plains of in- hospitable Denmark, through honest Sweden, frozen Lapland, rude and churlish Finland, un- principled Russia, and the wide-spread region of the wandering Tartar, if hungry, dry, cold, wet or sick, woman has ever been friendly to me, and .uniformly so ; and to add to this virtue, so worthy 220 IDEALS OF LIFE. of the appellation of benevolence, these actions have been performed in so free and so kindly a manner, that if I was dry, I drank the sweet draught, and, if hungry, ate the coarse morsel, with a double relish. — John Ledyard. On great occasions it is almost always woman who has given the strongest proofs of virtue and devotion : the reason is, that with men good and bad qualities are in general the result of calcula- tion, whilst in women they are impulses springing from the heart. — Montholon. In matters of affection there is always an im- passable gulf between man and man. They can never quite grasp each other's hands, and there- fore man never derives any intimate help, any heart-sustenance from his brother man, but from woman — his mother, his sister, or his wife. — Haw- thorne. QM^&'SzZ^- 23 !(|. "Mens sana in sano corpore " — (A sound mind is a sound body). STEALTH is like armed men that forward dp. ^^ press, Equipped with all conditions of success : Good generalship; obedience; reserves; HEALTH. 221 Valor; endurance; faith that never swerves, And that persistence of a mighty will Which in defeat has power to conquer still. Health is twofold, of body and of mina ; Unwholesome when to either one confined. What though the mind set in a feeble frame May glow and sparkle in a short-lived flame? Unite the two, the mind and body strong, All possibilities to them belong. Guard well thy health : it is the instrument Of life, for grand and noble uses meant ; The trusty armor of a valiant man Strong to achieve what only heroes can ; The courage that through change and chancer endures, And every gift of Providence secures. Health is a precious thing, and the only one in truth meriting that a man should lay out, not only his time, sweat, labor, and goods, but also his life itself, to obtain it, forasmuch as without it life is injurious to us. Pleasure, wisdom, learn- ing, and virtue without it wither away and vanish ; and to the most quaint and solid discourses that philosophy would imprint in us to the contrary, we need no more but oppose the image of Plato being struck with an epilepsy or apoplexy ; and in this presupposition to defy him to call the rich faculties of his soul to his assistance. All means 222 IDEALS OF LIFE. that conduce to health can neither be too painful nor too dear to me. — Montaigne. Health and vigor, and a happy constitution of the corporeal frame, are of absolute necessity to the enjoyments of the comforts, and to the per- formance of the duties, of life, and requisite in yet a greater measure to the accomplishment of anything illustrious or distinguished ; yet even these, if we can judge by their apparent conse- quences, are sometimes not very beneficial to those on whom they are most liberally bestowed, — Dr. Johnson. Health is the soul that animates all enjoyments of life, which fade, and are tasteless, if not dead, without it. A man starves at the best and great- est tables, makes faces at the noblest and most delicate wines, is poor and wretched in the midst of the greatest treasures and fortunes, with com- mon diseases ; strength grows decrepit, youth loses all vigor, and beauty all charms ; music grows harsh, and conversation disagreeable ; pal- aces are prisons, or of equal confinement ; riches are useless, honor and attendance are cumber- some, and crowns themselves are a burden : but if diseases are painful and violent, they equal all conditions of life, make no difference between a prince and a beggar; and a fit of the stone or the colic puts a king on the rack, and makes him as miserable as it can the meanest, the worst,, and most criminal of his subjects. — Sir William Temple. HEALTH. 223 Cheerfulness is, in the first place, the best promoter of health. Repinings, and secret mur- murs of heart, give imperceptible strokes to those delicate fibres of which the vital parts are com- posed, and wear out the machine insensibly; not to mention those violent ferments which they stir up in the blood, and those irregular disturbed motions which they raise in the animal spirits. I scarce remember, in my own observation, to have met with many old men, or with such who (to use our English phrase) wear well, that had not at least a certain indolence in their humor, if not a more than ordinary gaiety and cheerfulness of heart. The truth of it is health and cheerful- ness mutually beget each other; with this differ- ence, that we seldom meet with a great degree of health which is not attended with a certain cheerfulness, but very often see cheerfulness where there is no great degree of health. Cheerfulness bears the same friendly regard to the mind as to the body. It banishes all an- xious care and discontent, soothes and composes the passions, and keeps the soul in a perpetual calm. — Addison. In our natural body every part has a neces- sary sympathy with every other, and all together form, by their harmonious conspiration, a healthy whole. — Sir William Hamilton. Health, strength, and longevity, depend upon immutable laws. There is no arbitrary interfer- ence of higher powers with them. Primarily our 224 IDEALS OF LIFE. •parents, secondarily ourselves, are responsible for them. The providence of God is no more re- sponsible, because the virulence of disease rises above the power of all therapeutics, or because one quarter part of the human race die before completing the age of one year, — die before com- pleting one seventieth part of the term of exist- ence allotted to them by the Psalmist; I say the providence of God is no more responsible for these things, than it is for picking pockets or stealing horses. . . . Were a young man to write down a list of his duties, Health should be among the first items in the catalogue. This is no exaggeration of its value ; for health is indispensable to almost every form of human enjoyment; it is the grand auxiliary of usefulness ; and should a man love the Lord his God, with all his heart and soul and mind and strength, he would have ten times more heart and soul and mind and strength, to love Him with, in the vigor of health, than under the palsy of disease. Not only the amount, but the quality of the labor which a man can perform, depends upon his health. The work savors of the workman. If the poet sickens, his verse sickens; if black, venous blood flows to an author's brain, it beclouds his pages; and the devotions of a consumptive man scent of his disease as Lord Byron's obscenities smell of gin. Not only " lying lips," but a dyspeptic stomach, is an abom- ination to the Lord. At least in this life, so de- RECREATION. 225 pendent is mind upon material organization, — the\ functions and manifestations of the soul upon the condition of the body it inhabits, — that the mate- rialist hardly states the matter too strongly when he affirms that thought and passion, wit, imagina- tion and love are only emanations from exquis- itely organized matter, just as perfume is the effluence of flowers, or music the ethereal pro- duct of an ^Eolian harp. — Horace Mann. *03* t^ ]|*tr«ttfrrm jy^EAR Recreation claims her hour ^^ To keep the lamp of life a -trim, Our drooping faculties in flower, The spirit's eye from growing dim. She calls thee to the glassy lake, To join the merry skaters there, Or, it may be, thy place to take Among the singers free from care : In spring, to stroll through woodland bowers When birds are at their even-sono-; 226 IDEALS OF LIFE. Or pluck the beauty of the flowers, To which all seasons may belong. Do not deny her wise request, Ye toilers through the busy day ; Ye valiant seekers of the best, Turn not in weariness away. She brings a pleasing, gentle change, And like a schoolboy's glad recess, In which the mind is left to range In free and playful joyousness. And when her season of delight Has passed like music through the air, We find ourselves refreshed and bright, And once again the world is fair. There are people in the world who would, if they had the power, hang the heavens about with crape ; throw a shroud over the beautiful and life- giving bosom of the planet ; pick the bright stars from the sky ; veil the sun with clouds ; pluck the silver moon from her place in the firmament; shut up our gardens and fields, and the flowers with which they are bedecked ; and doom the world to an atmosphere of gloom and cheerless- ness. There is no reason or morality in this, and there is still less religion. A benevolent Creator has endowed man with an eminent capacity for enjoyment— has set him RECREATION. 227 in a fair and lovely world, surrounded him with things good and beautiful, and given him the dis- position to love, to sympathize, to help, to pro- duce, to enjoy ; and thus to become an honorable and a happy being, bringing God's work to per- fection, and enjoying the divine creation in the midst of which he lives. Make a man happy, and his actions will be happy too ; doom him to dismal thoughts and miserable circumstances, and you will make him gloomy, discontented, morose, and probably vici- ous. Hence, coarseness and crime are almost invariably found among those who have never been accustomed to be cheerful ; whose hearts have been shut against the purifying influences of a happy communion with nature, or an en- lightened and cheerful intercourse with man. Man has a strong natural appetite for relaxa- tion and amusement, and, like all other natural appetites, it has been implanted for a wise pur- pose. It cannot be repressed, but will break out in one form or another. Any well-directed at- tempt to promote an innocent amusement is worth a dozen sermons against vicious ones. If we do not provide the opportunity for enjoying whole- some pleasures, men will certainly find out vici- ous ones for themselves. Sydney Smith truly said, " In order to attack vice with effect, we must set up something better in its place. " Temperance reformers have not sufficiently considered how much the drinking habits of the 22S IDEALS OF LIFE. country are the consequences of gross tastes, and of the too limited opportunities which exist in this country for obtaining access to amuse- ments of an innocent and improving tendency. The workman's tastes have been allowed to re- main uncultivated ; present wants engross his thoughts ; the gratification of his appetites is his highest pleasure ; and when he relaxes, it is to indulge immoderately in beer or whiskey. The Germans were at one time the drunkenest of nations ; they are now among the soberest. "As drunken as a German boor," was a com- mon proverb. How have they been weaned from drink ? Principally by education and music. Music has a most humanizing effect. The cultivation of the art has a most favorable influ- ence upon public morals. It furnishes a source of pleasure in every family. It gives home a new attraction. It makes social intercourse more cheerful. Father Matthew followed up his tem- perance movement by a singing movement. He promoted the establishment of musical clubs all over Ireland; for he felt that, as he had taken the people's whiskey from them, he must give them some wholesome stimulus in its stead. He gave them music. Singing -classes were estab- lished, to refine the taste, soften the manners, and humanize the mass of the Irish people. But we fear that the example set by Father Matthew lias already been forgotten. " What a fulness of enjoyment," says Chan- RECREATION. 229 ning, "has our Creator placed within our reach, by surrounding us with an atmosphere which may be shaped into sweet sounds ! And yet this goodness is almost lost upon us through want of culture of the organ by which this provision is to be enjoyed." How much would the general cultivation of the gift of music improve us as a people ! Chil- dren ought to learn it in schools, as they do in Germany. The voice of music would then be heard in every household. Our old English glees would no longer be forgotten. Men and women might sing in the intervals of their work, as the Germans do in going to and coming from their wars. The work would not be worse done, because it was done amidst music and cheerful- ness. The breath of society would be sweetened, and pleasure would be linked with labor. — Smiles. Recreation is intended to the mind as whet- ting is to the scythe, to sharpen the edge of it, which otherwise would grow dull and blunt. He, therefore, that spends his whole time in recrea- tion is ever whetting, never mowing; his grass may grow, and his steed starve : as, contrarily, he that always toils and never recreates is ever mowing, never whetting; laboring much to little purpose. As good no scythe as no edge. Then only doth the work go forward when the scythe is so reasonably and moderately whetted that it may cut, and so cut that it may have the help of sharpening. — Bishop Hall. 230 IDEALS OF LIFE. It must always be remembered that nothing can come into the account of recreation that is not done with delight. — Locke. There is no position in the world more weari- some than that of a man inwardly indifferent to the amusement in which he is trying to take part. You can watch for game with an invincible pa- tience, for you have the natural instinct, but after the first ten minutes on the skirts of the woods I lay my gun down and begin to botanize. Last week a friendly neighbor invited me to a boar- hunt. The boar was supposed to be in the mid- dle of a great impenetrable plantation, and all I did during the whole morning was to sit in my saddle awaiting the exit of the beast, cantering from one point of the wood's circumference to another, as the cry of the dogs guided me. Was it pleasure? A true hunter would have found interest enough in expectation, but I felt like a man on a railway-platform who is waiting for a train that is late. — Hamerton. Ip Hutu ]|$!jp$?$ + WHISPER came that all our actions bend- Little or much unto a selfish end. What then is Charity's reward ? I said. The great in soul, by what strong impulse led. Do they live out a life of sacrifice, Trusting in God until they reach the skies ? And while I pondered much a just reply — It seems their echo could not wholly die — A mighty singer's words resounded in my ear: The Helper yonder helps the helper here, Goethe, thou hast proclaimed in this one line The height, and depth, and breadth of love divine Better than books or sermons ; Charity Weareth no other robe of mystery ; The source alike of all great thoughts and deeds,. And that on which the soul expanding feeds. Treading our lower selves to dust, we grow To larger sympathies, and then we know, Castled at length in higher atmosphere, The Helper yonder helps the helper here.. !6 (233> 234 IDEALS OF LIFE. Oh, hast thou never thought, who hoardest gold, There is a wealth thy coffers cannot hold? Perhaps ; but, Dives, thou hast never known What blessed riches might have been thine own, That Being who bestoweth care on all, Who noticeth the sparrows when they fall, Examples not to thee a selfish greed But active sympathy for others' need, Ringing throughout that Writ which we revere, The Helper yonder helps the helper here. People do show thee deference: the dower Of cunning traffic hath obtained thee power; Columns of marble do thy roof sustain ; Thy rooms are filled with elegance ; a train Of guests around thy banquet-table ring Their goblets, titling thee their festive king, And it may be that on thy soul some blight Has fallen, shutting from thy inner sight The mystery in which these words appear: The Helper yonder helps the helper here. Although thou lackest faith in tongue and pen, Can nothing choke thee with a grand amen? Behold this angel — not one in disguise — Her heart grown light through weight of sacrifice : Who bears through storm, and from a scanty store, A portion unto them that need it more, Receiving pay in blessings of the poor, And going richer, happier from their door; " Behold this angel — not one in disguise — Her heart grown light through weight of sacrifice ; Who bears through storm, and from a scanty store, A portion unto them that need it more." TEE TWO HELPERS. 235 And tell me, if thou canst, it is not clear The Helper yonder helps the helper here ! Heaven is thy birth-place, Charity, and he Who entertains thee, greatest of the three Celestial Sisters, has an angel guest Who cheers her lonely kindred in his breast, As we some sorrowing friend in banishment, Whisp'ring sweet words with hope and comfort blent. O rare reward ! And have* I guessed it, then, The way thou teachest unto erring men Thy holy message from the heavenly sphere, The Helper yonder helps the helper here ? * The souls that climb the lofty eminence And, breathing there an inspiration, thence Bend down to aid the lowly multitude, Holding before their eyes the promised good, Untiring workers for humanity, Exemplars of a Christ - like charily, The Wilberforces and the Howards, men Who, with the levers of the tongue and pen, Exalt the world — mark how they persevere ; — The Helper yonder helps such helpers here ! Those modest workers, heroes of the mind, Who build the lofty ramparts of mankind, Firmer than granite, and in silence wrought Of the uncrumbling masonry of thought — From whence the recompense which they deserve For still more arduous tasks to give them nerve? 236 IDEALS OF LIFE. For such reward they look in vain to man, Although he freely give them all he can. This is their creed, full strong to conquer fear: The Helper yonder helps the helper here. And thus the faith of those meek laborers, Whom Charity may justly claim as her's, The faithful stewards of the mind and soul, Who hold their course until they reach the goal Of mortal toil, as steady as a star Circling through yonder heavens. Such there are,. Have been and yet will be, of nobler worth Than finds a recognition here on earth, The brave, believing still, though want be near, The Helper yonder helps the helper here. Life is to labor where'er duty's voice May call, with strength to spurn the baser choice ; And who so triumphs, angels write his name As one deserving more than mortal fame. The conflict is at hand! Take up thy shield, My soul ! and to whatever battle-field Thou rangest, nerve thyself to courage there, And, flinging scorn upon that word Despair, Remember aye this verse of lofty cheer : The Helper yonder helps the helper here. I cannot name this gentleman (John Howard) without remarking that his labors and waitings have done much to open the eyes and hearts of THE TWO HELPERS. 237 mankind. He has visited all Europe, — not to sur- vey the sumptuousness of palaces or the state- liness of temples, not to make accurate measure- ments of the remains of ancient grandeur, nor to form a scale of the curiosity of modern art, not to collect medals or collate manuscripts, — but to dive into the depths of dungeons, to plunge into the infection of hospitals, to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain, to take the gauge and dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt, to remember the forgotten, to attend to the ne- glected, to visit the forsaken, and to compare and collate the distresses of all men in all countries. His plan is original, and it is as full of genius as it is of humanity. It was a voyage of discovery — a circumnavigation of charity. Already the benefit of his labor is felt more or less in every country; I hope he will anticipate his final reward by seeing all its effects fully realized in his own. He will receive, not by retail, but in gross, the reward of those who visit the prisoner ; and he has so forestalled and monopolized this branch of char- ity, that there will be, I trust, little room to merit by such acts of benevolence hereafter. — Burke. True humanity consists not in a squeamish ear ; it consists not in starting or shrinking at tales of misery, but in a disposition of heart to relieve it. True humanity appertains rather to the mind than to the nerves, and prompts men to use real and active endeavors to execute the actions which it suggests. — C. J. Fox. 238 IDEALS OF LIFE. You might have traversed the Roman empire in the zenith of its power, from the Euphrates to the Atlantic, without meeting with a single char- itable asylum for the sick. Monuments of pride, of ambition, of vindictive wrath, were to be found in abundance; but not one legible record of com- miseration for the poor. It was reserved for the religion whose basis is humility, and whose ele- ment is devotion, to proclaim with authority, " Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." — Robert Hall. Jsntfy. Unspotted from the world — James I. 27. S birds that are not free Pine for their native air, So longs my soul, O God, for Thee, To make her pure and fair. For only to the pure Thou dost Thy vision give : Impurity cannot endure Within Thy sight to live. PURITY. 239 Keep Thou my soul, O God, " Thy vineyard of red wine :" No longer by defilers trod, O keep her wholly Thine. So shall the sight of Thee Be sweetness day by day, And in Thy free-born Purity Her bondage pass away. There is a principle which is pure, placed id the human mind, which in different places and ages hath had different names; it is, however, pure and proceeds from God. It is deep and inward, confined to no forms of religion, nor ex- cluded from any, when the heart stands in per- fect sincerity. In whomsoever this takes root and grows, they become brethren. — John Woolman, The stained lives. Where is the man or woman who does not know what it means ? There is the most outward sort of stain — the stain upon the reputation. It is what men see as they pass us, and know us by it for one who has struggled and been worsted. What man has come to middle life, and kept so pure a name that men look at it for refreshment and courage as they pass? When we remember what a source of strength the purest reputations in the world have always been, what a stimulus and help, then we get some idea of what the world loses in the fact that almost every reputation becomes 240 IDEALS OF LIFE. so blurred and spotted that it is wholly unfit to be used as a light or a pattern before the man is old enough to give it any positive character or force. Then there are the stains upon our con- duct, the impure and untrue acts which cross and cloud the fair surface of all our best activity. And then, far worst of all, there is the stain upon the heart, of which nobody but the man himself knows anything, but which to him gives all their unhappiness to the other stains, the de- based motives, the low desires, the wicked pas- sions of the inner life. These are the stains which we accumulate. We set out for the battle in the morning strong and clean. By and by we catch a moment in the lull of the struggle to look down upon ourselves, and how tired and how covered with dust and blood we are. How long back our first purity seems — how long the day seems sometimes — how long since we began to live. You know what stains are on your lives. Each of us knows, every man and woman, as we are here this morning. They burn to your eyes even if no neighbor sees them. They burn in the still air of the Sabbath even if w T e do not see them in the week. You would not think for the world that your children should grow up to the same stains that have fastened upon you. You dream for them of a " life un- spotted from the w T orld," and the very anxiety of that dream proves how you know that your own life is spotted and stained. PURITY. 241 And that dream for the children is almost hopeless. At any rate the danger is that you will give it up by and by, and get to expecting and excusing the stains that will come upon them as they grow older. The worst thing about all this staining power of the world is the way in which we come to think of it as inevitable. We practically believe that no man can keep himself unspotted. He must accumulate his stains. Hear how much there is of this low, despairing tone on every side of us. You talk about the corrup- tion of political life that seems to have infected the safest characters, and the answer is, " Oh, there is nothing strange about it. No man can go through that trial and not fall. No man can live years in Washington, and be wholly pure.'' You talk with a great many business men about some point of doubtful conventional morality, and they look at you in your professional seclusion, with something that is more than half pity. "That is all very well for you," they say, "but that will not do upon the street. I should like to see you try to apply that standard to the work I have to do to make my bread." And just so when you talk about earnestness to the mere creature of society. " It is a mere dream," the answer is, "to think that social life can be elevated and made noble. Whoever goes there must expect the spots upon the robe ; and so, if he is wise, will go with robes that will show spots as little as possible,— robes as near the world's color as he is 242 IDEALS OF LIFE. able to procure." It is not true. Men do go through political life as pure and poor as any- most retired mechanic lives and works at his bench. And there are merchants who do carry, through all the temptations of business life, the same high standards, — hands just as clean, and hearts just as tender, as they have when they pray to God or teach their little children. And social life is lighted up with the lustre of the white, unstained robes of many a pure man or woman who walks through its midst. But the spots fall so thick that it is easy for men to say, " No one can go there and escape them. It is hopeless to try and keep yourself unspotted from the world;" and then (for that comes instantly), "We are not to blame for the world's spots upon us." I said this was the worst, but there is one worse thing still. When a man comes not merely to tolerate, but to boast, of the stains that the world has flung upon him ; when he wears his spots as if they were jewels ; when he flaunts his unscrupulousness and his cynicism, and his disbelief, and his heard -heartedness, in your face, as the signs and badges of his superiority; when to be innocent and unsuspicious and sensitive seems to be ridiculous and weak; when it is reputable to show that we are men of the world by exhibiting the stains that the world has left upon our reputation, our conduct, and our heart, then we understand how flagrant is the danger ; PURITY. 243 then we see how hard it must be to keep our- selves unspotted from the world. The world's stains do become matters of pride and choice. We compare ourselves with one another. We decide what claims shall be most honorable. We give conventional ranks and values to the signs of our own disgrace. It is more respectable to have learnt heartlessness from the world than to have learnt dishonesty ; more honorable to have become miserly than to have become licentious. As the Jews used to establish a rank and pre- cedence between the commandments which God had given them, so we decide which of the laws of the world, our master, it is good to keep, and which others it is good to break. And now, in view of all this, we come to our religion.- We hear St. James, as true to-day as when he wrote to those first Christians. In his unsparing words he tells us what Christianity has to say to all this state of things. " Pure religion and undefiled before God, and the Father, is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their afflic- tion, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." See how intolerant Religion is. She starts with what men have declared to be impos- sible. She refuses to bring down her standards. She insists that men must come up to her. No man is thoroughly religious, she declares, unless he does this, which it seems so hard to do, unless he goes through this world untainted, as the sunbeam goes through the mist. Religion re- 244 IDEALS OF LIFE. fuses to be degraded into a mere means for ful- filling the purposes of man's selfishness. She proclaims absolute standards, and will not lower them. She will not say to any man, weak and compromising with the world, " Well, your case is a hard one, and for you I waive a part of my demands. For you religion shall mean not to do this sin or that sin. These other sins, in con- sideration of your feebleness and temptations, I give you leave to do." Before every man, in the very thickest of the world's contagions, she stands and says, with her unwavering voice, " Come out. Be separate. Keep yourself unspotted from the world." There is something sublime in this unsparing- ness. It almost proves that our religion is divine, when it undertakes for a man so divine a task. It could not sustain itself in its great claim to be from God, unless it took this high and Godlike ground, that whoever named the name of Christ must depart from all iniquity. My dear friends, our religion is not true unless it have this power in it. Unless the statesman taking it to Con- gress., the merchant taking it into business, the man or woman carrying it with them where they go in all their ordinary occupations and amuse- ments, do indeed find it the power of purity and strength. We must bring our faith to this test. Unless our Christianity does this for us, it is not the true religion that St. James talked of, and that the Lord Jesus came to reveal and to be- stow. — Phillips Brooks. FOOD FOB THE SOUL. 245 Xntxh for lip jScui It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone. — St. Matthew iv. 4.. 9ft TABLE in the wilderness ^^ Is spread for thee, dear soul : Its dainty things will not grow less, It has no scanty dole. There is an angel at the board To welcome every guest, The shining servant of the Lord To offer thee the best. Come near, come near, and take thy full, If that may ever be, And day by day grow beautiful Till Heaven is orbed in thee. The first red blushes of the morn, So gentle and so calm, Which everlasting life adorn, Like some prophetic psalm, Shall hint full many a blessed thing The Master hath in store, To satisfy thy hungering Both now and evermore. And do not doubt the joys of time Are like the joys above, 246 IDEALS OF LIFE. Though service there be more sublime, Since love is always love. For Heaven has its commencement here, Within the wilderness, Where love begins to cast out fear And banish loneliness ; And Christ's dear Brotherhood of Grace, Eternal and unseen, Is God's shekinah to the race, No veil to intervene. That hunger, which has so ruled men always, which has made them violate duty, commit great crimes, sacrifice their strongest natural affections ; that need of bread, which, working steadily, has developed man into all the progress of civiliza- tion, and, working violently and spasmodically, has turned man into a brute ; that need of bread, which always lies primary to the forces that con- trol men's lives, had taken hold of this new hu- man life of Jesus. It was a real temptation. He was genuinely an hungered. This compulsion of the lower nature has, for the first time perhaps in Him, met the compulsion of the higher nature under which He has wholly lived. Now will He yield ? His whole work, our whole hope, hangs upon His decision. There was, there must have been, a real chance of His yielding. But as we look at Him, we see that He will not yield. The FOOD FOB THE SOUL. 247 old eternal joy of serving God outweighs the new temptation of the senses. It grows clear before Him that the higher life of the spirit is more precious than, is worth any sacrifice of, the lower life of the flesh. He says, " I choose." The victory is won. " Let me be hungry, but let me not disobey God." But we see also, in this reply of Jesus, how thoroughly He had entered into and identified Himself with the humanity which he had assumed. He takes His temptation as a man. He gives His answer as a man. It is not the speech of one bringing a superior nature, clothed in supe- rior strength, and so capable of an exceptional resistance where ordinary manhood must give way. It is not, " I, as God, must have divine sustenance, and so can do without your human food." It is, " Man shall not live by bread alone." Simply as men, we all, the poorest and the greatest of us altogether, need the life of obedience, and any sacrifice of the flesh is cheap that wins it for us. Here was the second value of the temptation of Christ. It was not only the divine Mediator preparing Himself for his task, and proving the temper of the arms with which He was to fight the battle; it was the highest, the perfect man, becoming conscious of himself, and declaring, in behalf of all humanity, the uni- versal human necessities. " I, as man," He says, need more than bread. I must not be satisfied, I am not satisfied, with mere food for the body: 248 IDEALS OF LIFE. I must have truth." Humanity was tested there.. Can it in this supreme specimen of it be satisfied with bread ? If it can, then all these dreams, these cravings, these discontents, these importu- nate demands of men for spiritual things, for truth, for duty, for God, are mere chimeras. If it cannot, if this man, the best of men, says that food is not enough for man, then no man ought to be satisfied so long as he has only the mere nourishment that feeds the body. " Man shall not live by bread alone." No doubt it all seemed perfectly clear to Jesus. It was almost a truism to Him. Humanity lay perfectly open to His consciousness. Reading Himself, He read man as man never had been read by man before. He said, That is not life which bread alone can feed. Life for man means a spiritual condition which only spiritual forces can supply. There- fore, of course, man shall not live by bread alone. It is like saying that a tree cannot live merely upon water. It needs other elements which the rich earth must give. That is its nature. And one thing more about this assertion by Christ of the higher necessities of man. He does not simply discern them in his own human consciousness. It is noticeable that He also cor- roborates them out of the past experience of men. He not merely sees in Himself that man cannot live at his fullest, except in obedience to God ; He also discovers in the past that men FOOD FOE THE SOUL. 249" have found this out and recognized it. For, no- tice, His reply is a quotation: "It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone." He quotes from the speech which Moses had made to the people of Israel, after they had crossed the des- ert, and when they were just about to enter the Promised Land. He says, Moses found out there in his desert what I have found here in my wilderness. He wrote it down, and here I find it true. So He appeals to experience. He strengthens His own present conciousness by the assurance that other men have known the same ; that it has always been true. As He had said before, It is not something which belongs to me in my exceptional divine nature, but it belongs to all men; so he says now, It is not true only in these special, temporary conditions ; it has always- been true. The best and most human men have always known it, — that man was soul as well as- body, and that he did not really live unless he had not merely bread for the body, but truth and duty, God's word, for the soul. — Phillips Brooks. 17 250 IDEALS OF LIIE. ittttjtWIotn ^TEMPTATION everywhere ^ Besets our life below : For still the devil spreads his snare, And when we do not know. Our selfishness is great: The bait is fair to see ; And if we in its presence wait — Who gains the victory? There is a still small voice That speaks to every heart : On hearing, make an instant choice, And from the bait depart. Or else thy sword unsheath, That blade divine and strong. And smite and tread the lure beneath, Where all such things belong. Whoever yields to temptation debases himself with a debasement from which he can never arise. This, indeed, is the calamity of calamities, the bitterest dreg in the cup of bitterness. Every unrighteous act tells with a thousand fold more force upon the actor than upon the sufferer. The false man is more false to himself than to TEMPTATION. 251 any one else. He may despoil others, but him- self is the chief loser. The world's scorn he might sometimes forget, but the knowledge of his own perfidy is undying. The fire of guilty passions may torment whatever lies within the circle of its radiations; but fire is always hot- test at the center, and that center is the prof- ligate's own heart. A man can be wronged and live ; but the unresisted, unchecked impulse to do wrong is the first and the second death. The moment any one of the glorious faculties with which God has endowed us is abused or misused, that faculty loses, forever, a portion of its delicacy and its energy. Physiology teaches us that all privation and all violence suffered by our physical system, before birth, impairs the very stamina of our constitution, and sends us into the world, so far shorn of the energies, and blunted in the fineness of the perceptions, we should otherwise possess. So every injury we inflict upon our moral nature, in this life, must dull, forever and ever, our keen capacities of enjoyment, though in the midst of infinite bliss, and weaken our power of ascension where virtu- ous spirits are ever ascending. It must send us forward into the next stage of existence maimed and crippled, so that however high we may soar, our flight will be less lofty than it otherwise would have been, and however exquisite our bliss, it will always be less exquisitely blissful than it was capable of being. Every instance of 252 IDEALS OF LIFE. violated conscience, like every broken string in a harp, will limit the compass of its music, and mar its harmonies forever. Tremble, then, and for- bear, oh man ! when thou wouldst forget the dignity of thy nature and the immortal glories of thy destiny, for if thou dost cast down thine eyes to look with complacency upon the tempter, or lend thine ear to listen to his seductions, thou dost doom thyself to move for ever and ever through inferior spheres of being ; thou dost wound and dim the very organ, with which alone thou canst behold the splendors of eternity. — Horace Mann. Temptations in the Wilderness ! Have we not all to be tried with such ? Not so easily can the old Adam, lodged in us by birth, be dispossessed. Our Life is compassed round with Necessity ; yet is the meaning of Life itself no other than Freedom, than Voluntary Force: thus have we warfare ; in the beginning, especially, a hard- fought battle. For the God-given mandate, Work thou in Well-doing, lies mysteriously writ- ten, in Promethean, Prophetic Characters, in our hearts ; and leaves no rest, night or day, till it be deciphered and obeyed ; till it burn forth, in our conduct, a visible, acted Gospel of Freedom. And as the clay-given mandate, Eat thou and be filled, at the same time persuasively proclaims- itself through every nerve, — must not there be a confusion, a contest, before the better Influence, can become the upper? TEMPTATION, 253 To ine nothing seems more natural than that the Son of Man, when such God-given mandate first prophetically stirs him, and the Clay must now be vanquished or vanquish, — should be car- ried of the Spirit unto grim Solitudes, and there fronting the Tempter do grimmest battle with him, defiantly setting him at naught, till he yield and fly. Name it as we choose : with or with- out visible Devil, whether in the natural Desert of rocks and sands, or in the populous moral Desert of selfishness and baseness, — to such Temptation are we all called. Unhappy if we are not ! Unhappy if we are but Half- men, in wmorn that divine handwriting has never blazed forth, all -subduing in true sun - splendor ; but quivers dubiously amid meaner lights : or smould- ers, in dull pain, in darkness, under earthly va- pors ! — Our Wilderness is the wide World in an Atheistic Century ; our Forty Days are long years of suffering and fasting : nevertheless, to -these also comes an end. Yes, to me also was given, if not Victory, yet the consciousness of Battle, and the resolve to preserve therein while life or faculty is left. To me also, entangled in the enchanted forests, demon-peopled, doleful of sight and of sound, it was given, after weariest wanderings, to work out my way into the higher sunlit slopes — of that Mountain which has no summit, or whose summit is in Heaven only ! — Carlyle. Temptation is a fearful word. It indicates the 254 IDEALS OF LIFE. beginning of a possible series of infinite evils. It is the ringing of an alarm bell, whose melan- choly sounds may reverberate through eternity. Like the sudden, sharp cry of Fire ! in the night, it should rouse us to instantaneous activity, and brace every muscle to its highest tension. — Hor- ace Mann. Set a pleasure tempting, and the hand of the Almighty visibly prepared to take vengeance, and tell whether it be possible for people wantonly to offend against the law 4 — Locke. Every man living shall assuredly meet with an hour of temptation, a certain critical hour, which shall more especially try what mettle his heart is made of. — South. He that with his Christian armor manfully fights against and repels the temptations and assaults of his spiritual enemies, he that keeps his conscience void of offense, shall enjoy peace here and forever. — Ray. In time of temptation be not busy to dis- pute, but rely upon the conclusion, and throw yourself upon God, and contend not with Him, but in prayer. — Jeremy Taylor. Reflect upon a clear, unblotted, acquitted con- science, and feed upon the ineffable comforts of the memorial of a conquered temptation. — South. Every Christian is endued with a power whereby he is enabled to resist and conquer temptation. — Tillotson. THE AS GEL OF PRAYER. 255 tQOMETIMES when the future grows dark ^ And frowns with the gloom of despair, I lose the one beautiful mark Which gleamed in the bright sunny air. And oh ! in the darkness I grope And mourn for the lost and the fair, Until, in the dawning of hope, I meet with the Angel of Prayer: That i\ngel of prayer who of old Gave Jacob the courage to dare The might of a foe that was bold, And lifted his burden of care. And that which was lost in the night, I find in the firmament, where It glows in the beautiful light, And faster I climb to it there. Our strong crying and tears in effort which has never reached its earthly end, our long and unrewarded toil of love and knowledge, are not lost in us. They are in reality latent powers in the soul, which in an undefective world will be- come strength of thought and ease of attainment. As the forces of the sunlight stored up in the 256 IDEALS OF LIFE. vegetation of the coal break forth again mil- lions of years afterwards to cheer a happy fireside at Christmas time with light and heat, so the stored up force of our endurance will manifest itself as passionate joy under new con- ditions of being. Nay, we may even measure the hidden force of life within us by the depth of our sorrow. This is the answer we may give ourselves when the increase of spiritual or mental knowl- edge has deepened in us, in a transient pass- age of melancholy, the pain of the contrast be- tween the hopes of youth and the toil of man- hood. But if such a melancholy were to continue, - — if, as some do, we cherish retrospect and find our only pleasure in remembering what we were, in continually wailing over dead ideals, -—then the answer is sharper and sterner. It is given in the results which this unmanly melan- choly brings. We become useless, dreamy, sloth- ful men ; we become indifferent to the great in- terests of the Present because we are absorbed in the Past. We cease to grow, because we are isolated in self; and he who ceases to grow goes back slowly into the realm of nothingness and death. We are a dead weight on the progress of the world. Our idleness is an injury to the race ; and the race rejects and despises us. Then our melancholy, face to face with this con- tempt, changes its nature ; its dainty sweetness THE ANGEL OF PRAYER. 257 departs, and is succeeded by the coarse sourness of an old aae of scorn. That is the stern reply of law to the man who indulges in the continued melancholy of retrospect, to whom added knowledge has only brought despair of the future. It is unmanliness to linger thus among the tombs. Christ calls us to a higher thought of life. Let dead ideals bury themselves, He says ; come away from them and follow Me ; there are other ideals in front, better and larger than the past. St. Paul accepts and realizes the whole po- sition. ' When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child ; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.' There is no unmanly retrospect in that, neither is there any depreciation of childhood. It had its own ways, they were good then — it was a joyful time, that too was good — but to wish it back again, except for a moment, were unworthy. Manhood brings nobler work, higher duties ; and the child-life and youth are to be put away for- ever. Nor was this said by one who did not feel the weight of the trouble which besets man- hood. For he goes on : ' Now, we see through a glass darkly ' — ' now we know in part.' But, observe, the pain does not send him back for comfort, but forward. He steps out of a barren melancholy, being the possessor of an earnest faith and a saving hope. The time is comma- when we shall see face to face, when we shall 258 IDEALS OF LIFE. know as we are known : indistinct knowledge which bringeth sorrow, partial knowledge which itself is grief, shall vanish in clear light of perfect truth, in completed knowledge, and clearness and completion are faultless joy. It is the one inspir- ing element of Christianity that it throws us in boundless hope upon the future and forbids us to dwell in the poisonous shadows of the past. A new and better growth is before us, a fresher, a diviner, a more enthusiastic life awaits us. We are to wake up satisfied in the likeness of Christ, the ever-young Humanity. Therefore, forgetting those things which are behind, let us press for- ward unto the mark of the prize of our high calling in Christ Jesus. — Stopford A. Brooke. iriBttWtmu ^vfHO escapeth tribulation '^^ In this sad and joyful world ? Who, to bring humiliation, Has no blows upon him hurled? Providence is like a father Who corrects a wayward child, TRIBULATION, 25£ Lest the clouds of judgment gather Over one that is defiled. Better now the wise assurance That the sorrow soon will pass, Than the grief of long endurance And the bitter cry Alas ! Better now the brief chastisement And the light that follows fast, Than the doom with no revisement And the darkness never past. I find two sad etymologies of tribulation. One from tributes, a three-forked thorn, which inti- mates that such afflictions which are as full of pain and anguish to the soul, as a thorn thrust into a tender part of the flesh is unto the body, may properly be termed tribulations. The other, from tributes, the head of a flail, or flagel, knaggy and knotty (made commonly, as I take it, of a thick, black thorn), and then it imports that afflictions, falling upon us as heavy as the flail threshing the corn, are styled tribula- tions. I am in a strait which deduction to embrace, from the sharp or from the heavy thorn. But which is the worst, though I may choose whence to derive the word, I cannot choose so as to de- cline the thing, "I must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God." 260 IDEALS OF LIFE. Therefore, I will labor not to be like a young colt first set to plough, which more tires himself out with his misspent mettle than with, the weight of what he draws ; and will labor patiently to bear what is imposed upon me. — Thomas Fuller. %llmk 1"S there balm in Gilead? ^ Is there any physician there? Is there any ease from my pain to be had? Is there aught to be found that is fair ? Can I from myself escape, Where demons upon me stare? And, if I outwit the stormy cape, Is Elysium anywhere? For my soul is aghast at sin, Crying day and night, Beware ! And praying for Joy to arise within To hide the face of Despair. A gracious answer came back To these questions I could not forbear, The while I turned on my wayward track And breathed the celestial air: " Is there balm in Gilead ? Is there any physician there ? Is there any ease from my pain to be had ? Is there ought to be found that is fair ? " GILEAD. 261 A breath that came down from above And gave me the heart to dare To believe and confess that God is love, And commit myself to His care. Fichte and Carlyle proclaim rightly that there is grandeur in noble sorrow ; it is ill with him who is incapable of spiritual anguish, even lofty despair. That very pain is a proof of devotion to truth ; as the keenness of the slighted lover's distress tests the depth of his affection. Better bow before a veiled Isis than care not whether the Divine can be known at all ! But for him who doubts sincerely, and will, nowise fail from his faith in truth itself, there may be ordained the breaking forth of a great glory of deliverance and of dawn. True it is, his doubt is to be hated, and he can never fairly take the road until it is no more. But the brightness of the morning may be proportioned to the length and darkness of the night. The over-wearied dove long winged its aimless way, over an earth that was but one wide waste of waters, under a streamy and darkened sky ; and now its tired pinions flapped heavily, the heart within had al- most failed, the last ray of hope was fading from the eye ; but even then the olive twig emerged, and from a rift in the thick cloud a beam of light fell on the fainting breast, and gradually the earth again unveiled her face, and the tri- umphant embrace of the returning light kindled 262 IDEALS OF LIFE, a glory which eclipsed all other dawns. Need we apply the parable ? — Peter Bayne. M\ THOU that long hast sought a benediction } ^^ And mourned because it seemed to flee, Dost know that in the Furnace of Affliction The Lord hath chosen thee ? Be still, and look upon the Lord and Saviour ! Thy grief to peace and joy will grow What time the current of His great behavior Shall through thy being flow. For so He teaches men on earth are sainted, Whose life is duty everywhere, Until they seem as those no more acquainted With any cross they bear. And all thy life, however full of sorrow, Thou mayest follow in His train, And wear to-day and in the grand to-morrow The majesty of Pain. Suffering is doubtless as divinely appointed as Joy, while it is much more influential as a dis- AFFLICTION. 263 cipline of character. It chastens and sweetens the nature, teaches patience and resignation, and promotes the deepest as well as the most exalted thought. " The best of men That e'er wore earth about him was a sufferer; A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit; The first true gentleman that ever breathed." Suffering may be the appointed means by which the highest nature of man is to be dis- ciplined and developed. Assuming happiness to be the end of being, sorrow may be the indis- pensable condition through which it is to be reached. Hence St. Paul's noble parables de- scriptive of the Christian life, "As chastened and not killed ; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing ; as poor, yet making many rich ; as having noth- ing, and yet possessing all things." Even pain is not all painful. On one side it is related to suffering, and on the other to hap- piness. For pain is remedial as well as sorrow- ful. Suffering is a misfortune, as viewed from one side, and a discipline as viewed from the other. But for suffering, the best part of many men's nature would sleep a deep sleep. Indeed, it might almost be said that pain and sorrow were the indispensable conditions of some men's suc- cess, and the necessary means to evoke the high- est development of their genius. Shelley has said of poets : " Most wretched men are cradled into poetry by wrong, They learn in suffering what they teach in song." 2(54 IDEALS OF LIFE. Does anyone suppose that Burns would have sung as he did had he been rich, respectable, and " kept a gig ; " or Byron, if he had been a pros- perous Lord Privy Seal or Postmaster - General ? Sometimes a heart-break rouses an impassive nature to life. "What does he know," said a sage, " who has not suffered ?" When Dumas asked Reboul, " What made you a poet ? " his answer was, " Suffering ! " It was the death, first of his wife, and then of his child, that drove him into solitude for the indulgence of his grief, and even- tually led him to seek and find relief in verse. It was also to a domestic affliction that we owe the beautiful writings of Mrs. Gaskell. "It was as a recreation, in the highest sense of the word," says a recent writer, speaking from personal knowledge, " as an escape from the great void of a life from which a cherished presence had been taken, that she began that series of exquisite creations which has served to multiply the num- ber of our acquaintances and to enlarge even the circle of our friendships." Much of the best and most useful work done by men and women has been done amidst afflic- tion — sometimes as a relief from it, sometimes from a sense of duty overpowering personal sor- row. " If I had not been so great an invalid," said Dr. Darwin to a friend, "I should not have done nearly so much work as I have been able to accomplish." So Dr. Donne, speaking of his illness, once said : " The advantage you and my AFFLICTION. 265 other friends have by my frequent fevers is, that I am so much the oftener at the gates of Heaven ; and by the solitude and close imprison- ment they reduce me to, I am so much the oftener at my prayers, in which you and my other dear friends are not forgotten." Schiller produced his greatest tragedies in the midst of physical suffering almost amounting to torture. Handel was never greater than when, warned by palsy of the approach of death, and struggling with distress and suffering, he sat down to compose the great works which have- made his name immortal in music. Mozart com- posed his great operas, and last of all his- " Requiem," when oppressed by debt, and strug- gling with a fatal disease. Beethoven produced- his greatest works amidst gloomy sorrow, when- oppressed by almost total deafness. And poor Schubert, after his short but brilliant life, laid it down at the early age of thirty-two ; his sole property at his death consisting of his manu- scripts, the clothes he wore, and sixty - three florins in money. Some of Lamb's finest writings- were produced amidst deep sorrow ; and Hood's, apparent gayety often sprang from a suffering; heart. As he himself wrote : " There's not a string attuned to mirth, But has its chord in melancholy." Again, in science, we have the noble instance of the suffering Wollaston, even in the last stages of the mortal disease which afflicted him, devot- 18 266 IDEALS OF LIFE. ing his numbered hours to putting on record, by dictation, the various discoveries and improve- ments he had made, so that any knowledge he had acquired calculated to benefit his fellow- creatures might not be lost Afflictions often prove but blessings in dis- guise. " Fear not the darkness," said the Per- sian sage ; it " conceals perhaps the springs of the waters of life." Experience is often bitter, but wholesome, only by its teaching *can we learn to suffer and be strong. Character, in its highest forms, is disciplined by trial, and " made perfect through suffering." Even from the deep- est sorrow the patient and thoughtful mind will gather richer wisdom than pleasure ever yielded. — Smiles. Consider that sad accidents and a state of affliction is a school of virtue. It reduces our spirits to soberness, and our counsels to modera- tion ; it corrects levity, and interrupts the confi- dence of sinning. . . . God, who in mercy and wisdom governs the world, would never have suffered so many sadnesses, and have sent them, especially, to the most virtuous and the wisest men, but that he intends they should be the seminary of comfort, the. nursery of virtue, the exercise of wisdom, the trial of patience, the ven- turing for a crown, and the gate of glory. — Jeremy Taylor. The time of sickness or affliction is like the cool of the day to Adam, a season of peculiar AFFLICTION. 267 propriety for the voice of God to be heard ; and may be improved into a very advantageous op- portunity of begetting or increasing spiritual life. — Hammond. What is it that promotes the most and the deepest thought in the human race? It is not learning ; it is not the conduct of business ; it is not even the impulse of the affections. It is suf- fering ; and that, perhaps, is the reason why there is so much suffering in the world. The angel who went down to trouble the waters and to make them healing, was not perhaps, entrusted with so great a boon as the angel who benevolently in- flicted upon the sufferers the disease from which they suffered. — Sir Arthur Helps. A consideration of the benefit of afflictions should teach us to bear them patiently when they fall to our lot, and to be thankful to Heaven for having planted such barriers around us, to re- strain the exuberance of our follies and our crimes. Let these sacred fences be removed ; exempt the ambitious from disappointment, and the guilty from remorse ; let luxury go unattended with disease, and indiscretion lead into no embarrass- ments or distresses; our vices would range with- out control, and the impetuosity of our passions have no -bounds ; every family would be filled with strife, every nation with carnage, and a del- uge of calamities would break in upon us which would produce more misery in a year than is in- 268 IDEALS OF LIFE. flicted by the hand of Providence in a lapse of ages. — Robert Hall. l^mlkt. Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh. — Galatians, v. i6_ f7|7HE house that was so tarnished *** By all that is unclean, At length is swept and garnished, And yet no guest is seen. Oh house that art terrestrial, Thou canst not empty be ! Hast thou no guest celestial, Alas, alas for thee ! The house that was so tarnished By all that is unclean, At length is swept and garnished, And many a guest is seen. Oh house, that art terrestrial, Though foes are everywhere, Thy guests that are celestial Will keep thee pure and fair. The poets fable that this was one of the labors imposed on Hercules, to make clean the REFORMATION. 209 x^ugean stable, or stall rather, for therein, they said, were kept three thousand kine, and it had not been cleansed for thirty years together. But Hercules, by letting the river Alpheus into it, did that with ease which before was conceived impossible. This stall is the pure emblem of my impure soul, which hath been defiled with millions of sins, for more than thirty years to- gether. Oh, that I might by a lively faith, and unfeigned repentance, let the stream of that foun- tain into my soul, "which is opened for Judah and Jerusalem.'' It is impossible by all my pains to purge out my . uncleanness, which is quickly done by the rivulet of the blood of my Saviour. — Thomas Fuller. Lord, I read of my Saviour that when He was in the wilderness, "then the devil leaveth Him, and behold angels came and ministered unto Him." A great change in a little time. No twilight betwixt night and day. No purga- tory condition betwixt hell and heaven ; but in- stantly, when out devil, in angel. Such is the case of every solitary soul. It will make com- pany for itself. A musing mind will not stand neuter a minute, but presently side with legions of good or bad thoughts. Grant, therefore, that my soul, which ever will have some, may never have bad company. — Thomas Fuller. There are two ways of dealing with every vice that troubles us, in either ourselves or others. One is to set to work directly to destroy the 270 IDEALS OF LIFE. vice ; that is the negative way. The other is to bring in as overwhelmingly as possible the opposite virtue, and so to crowd and stifle and drown out the vice ; that is the positive way. Now there can be no doubt about St. Paul. Here comes his poor Galatian fighting with his lust of the flesh. How shall he kill it? St. Paul says not, " Do as few fleshly things as you can," setting him out on a course of re- pression ; but, " Do just as many spiritual things as you can," opening before him the broad gate of a life of positive endeavor. And when we have thoroughly comprehended the differ- ence of those two methods, and seen how dis- tinctly St. Paul chose one instead of the other, we have laid hold on one of the noblest char- acteristics of his treatment of humanity, one that he gained most directly from his Lord. I should despair of making any one see the dis- tinction who did not know it in his own expe- rience. Everywhere the negative and the posi- tive methods of treatment stand over against each other, and men choose between them. Here is a man who is beset by doubts, per- haps about the very fundamental truths of Chris- tianity. He may attack all the objections in turn,, and at last succeed in proving that Christianity is not false. That is negative. Or he may gather about him the assurance of all that his religion has done and sweep away all his doubts with the complete conviction that Christianity is true. REFORM A TION. 27 1 A man has a grudge against you, inveterate and strong. You may attack his special grievance and try to remove it; or you may try not to show him that you meant him no harm, but by laborious kindness that you mean him every good, and so soften his obstinacy. A church is full of errors and foolish practices. It is possi- ble to attack those follies outright, showing conclusively how foolish they are ; or it is pos- sible, and it is surely better, to wake up the true spiritual life in that church, which shall itself shed those follies and cast them out, or at least rob them of their worst harmfulness. It is strange how far and wide this neces- sity of choosing between the positive and nega- tive method of treatment run^. In matters of taste, for instance, there are two distinct ways of trying to perfect the tasteful man. One is by the repression of what is in bad taste ; the other is by the earnest fostering of what is good, — the method of repression and the method of stimulus. And everybody knows that no great effect of human genius was ever yet produced except in the latter, larger way. A cold and hard and limited correctness, a work "faultily faultless," weak and petty and timid, is all that the other methods make. For, whether in man- ners or in art, that which appears at first as coarseness is very often the strength of the whole work. To repress it for its coarseness is to make the whole feeble while we make it 272 IDEALS OF LIFE. fine. To keep its strength and fill its strength with fineness, this is the positive method of the truest taste. We are witnessing constantly the application of the same principle to the matter of reform, the breaking up of bad habits in an individual or in a community. All prohibitory measures are negative. That they have their use no one can doubt. That they have their limits is just as clear. He who thinks that nothing but the moral methods for the prevention of intemperance and crime can do the work is a mere theorist of the closet and knows very little about the actual state of human nature. But, on the other hand, the man who thinks that any strictest system of pro- hibition, most strictly kept in force, could perma- nently keep men from drink, or any other vice, knows little of human nature either. That nature is too active and too live to be kept right by mere negations. You cannot kill any one of its appetites by merely starving it. You must give it its true food, and so only can you draw it off from the poison that it covets. Here comes in the absolute necessity of providing rational and cheap amusements for the people whom our philanthropists are trying to draw off from the tavern and the gambling - house. Pictures, parks, museums, libraries, music, a healthier and happier religion, a brighter, sunnier tone to all our life, — these are the positive powers which must come in with every form of prohibition and restraint REFORMATION. 273 before our poorer people can be brought to lead a sensible and sober life. -Look at the lives that our rich people live. It is not any form of pro- hibition, legal or social, that keeps them from dis- gusting and degrading vice. It is the fulness of their lives, the warmth, glow, comfort and abund- ance of their homes, the occupation of their minds, the positive and not the negative, the in- terest and plenty which the poor man never knows. Before you or I dare blame him or de- spise him, we must, in imagination, empty our lives like his, and ask what sort of people we should be in the squalor .of his garret, and the comfortlessness and hopelessness of a lot like his. We see the same principle, the superiority of the positive to the negative, constantly illustrated in matters of opinion. How is it that people change their opinions, give up what they have steadfastly believed, and come to believe some- thing very different, perhaps its very opposite ? I think we all have been surprised, if we have thought about it, by the very small number of cases in which men deliberately abandon positions because those positions have been disproved and seem to them no longer tenable. And even when such cases do occur, the effect is apt to be not good, but bad. The man abandons his disproved idea, but takes no other in its stead ; until, in spite of their better judgment, many good men have been brought to feel that, rather than use the power of mere negation and turn the be- 274 IDEALS OF LIFE. liever in an error into a believer in nothing, they would let their friend -go on believing his false- hood, since it was better to believe something, however stupidly, than to disbelieve everything, however shrewdly. But what then ? How do men change their opinions ? Have you not seen ? Holding still their old belief, they come some- how into the atmosphere of a clearer and a richer faith. That better faith surrounds them, fills them, presses on them with its own convincingness. They learn to love it, long to receive it, try to open their hands and hearts just enough to take it in and hold it along with the old doctrine which they have no idea of giving up. They think they are holding both. They persuade themselves that they have found a way of recon- ciling the old and the new, which have been thought irreconcilable. Perhaps they go on think- ing so all their lives. But perhaps some day something startles them, and they awake to find that the old is gone, and that the new opinion has become their opinion by its own positive convincing power. There has been no violence in the process, nor any melancholy gap of infidel- ity between. . . . It seems to me that there is something so sublimely positive in Nature. She never kills for the mere sake of killing ; but every death is but one step in the vast weaving of the web of life. She has no process of destruction which, as you turn it to the other side and look at it in REFORMA TION. 27 5 what you know to be its truer light, you do not see to be a process of construction. She gets rid of her wastes by ever new plans of nutri- tion. This is what gives her such a courageous, hopeful, and enthusiastic look, and makes men love her as a mother and not fear her as a tyrant. They see by small signs, and dimly feel, this positiveness of her workings which it is the glory of natural science to reveal more and more. — Phillips Brooks. It is not so much the being exempt from faults, as the having overcome them, that is an advantage to us ; it being with the follies of the mind as with the weeds of a field, which if de- stroyed and consumed upon the place where they grow, enrich and improve it more than if none had ever sprung there. — Swift. He that is deeply engaged in vice is like a man laid fast in a bog, who by a faint and lazy struggle to get out does but spend his strength to no purpose, and sinks himself the deeper into it : the only way is by a resolute and vigorous effort to spring out, if possible, at once. When men are sorely urged and pressed, they find a power in themselves which they thought they had not. — Tillotson. Reform, like charity, must begin at home. Once well at home, how will it radiate outwards, irrepressible, into all that we touch and handle, speak and work ; kindling ever new light by in- calculable contagion, spreading, in geometric ratio, 276 IDEALS OF LIFE. far and wide, doing good only wherever it spreads, and not evil. — Carlyle. Though few men are likely to be called on to take part in the reformation of any public institu- tions, yet there is no one of us but what ought to engage in the important work of ^^reforma- tion, and according to the well-known proverb, " If each would sweep before his own door, we should have a clean street." Some may have more, and some less, of dust and other nuis- ances to sweep away ; some of one kind, and some of another. But those who have the least to do have something to do ; and they should feel it an encouragement to do it, that they can so easily remedy the beginnings of small evils before they have accumulated into a great one. Begin reforming, therefore, at once : proceed in reforming steadily and cautiously, and go on re- forming forever. — Whately. >Ip $tpm W^whs %m flp Brass* 'RE AT words of love He spoke, And each an impulse woke, Which through successive ages runs And broadens with the suns. THE SEVEN WORDS FROM THE CROSS. 277 Great words of love were heard, Which many a bosom stirred, And more and more each circling year Have bowed the heart to hear. Great words of love come down Through ages of renown ! The blessed burden that they bear Hath nothing here more fair. Such words of love to men May never be again. Help me, as with their spirit shod, To do Thy work, O God. The seven dying words of our Lord from the Cross are usually arranged in the following order : I. Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do. — St. Luke xxiii. 34. II. Woman, behold thy son ! . . Behold thy mother! — St. John xix. 26, 27. III. Verily I say unto thee, To-day shall thou be with Me in Paradise. — St. Luke xxiii. 43. IV. My God, My God, why hast Thou for- saken Me ? — St. Matthew xxvii. 46 ; St. Mark xv. 34. V. I thirst. — St. John xix. 28. VI. It is finished. — St. John xix. 30. VII. Father, into Thy hands I commend My Spirit. — St. Luke xxiii. 46. 278 IDEALS OF LIFE. It is hoped that from these Great Words, in connection with the seven subjects which have been suggested by them, the reader will derive much to teach him both how to live and how to die. l^jromtm* Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do. St. Luke xxiii. 34. t M) SINFUL heart of mine, (2> ^ To melt thee, Love Divine Spoke from the Cross the grandest word The world has ever heard. It was the soul of Love Outspanning Heaven above, Divine elixir of the world, In Jesus' heart impearled. From Jesus' heart it flowed To seek a new abode In many a sinful heart, like mine, Which it would make divine. Dost know this word Forgive ! Through which true life to live? FORGIVENESS. 279 If not, then Heaven will be too bright For thine unhallowed sight ! Alas ! If my best Friend, who laid down His Life for me were to remember all the instances in which I have neglected Him, and to plead them against me in judgment, where should I hide my guilty head in the day of recompense ? I will pray, therefore, for blessings upon my friends, even though they cease to be so, and upon enemies, though they continue such. — Cow- PER. Tell us, ye men who are so jealous of right and of power, who take sudden fire at every in- sult, and suffer the slightest imagination of an- other's contempt, or another's unfairness, to chase from your bosom every feeling of complacency; ye men whom every fancied affront puts in such a turbulence of emotion, and in whom every fan- cied infringement stirs up the quick and the re- sentful appetite for justice, how will you stand the rigorous application of that test by which the for- given of God are ascertained, even that the spirit of forgiveness is in them, and by which it will be pronounced, whether you are, indeed the children of the Highest, and perfect as your Father in Heaven is perfect? — Dr. Chalmers. It is in vain for you to expect, it is impudent for you to ask of God forgiveness on your own behalf, if you refuse to exercise this forgiving- temper with respect to others. — Bishop Hoadly. 280 IDEALS OF LIFE. He that cannot forgive others breaks the bridge over which he must pass himself; for every man has need to be forgiven. — Lord Her- bert. Whoever is really brave has always this com- fort when he is oppressed, that he knows himself to be superior to those who injure him, by for- giving it. — Pope. The brave only know how to forgive ; it is the most refined and generous pitch of virtue human nature can arrive at. Cowards have done good and kind actions ; Cowards have even fought, nay, sometimes conquered ; but a coward never forgave — it is not in his nature ; the power of doing it flows only from a strength and great- ness of soul conscious of its own force and security, and above all the little temptations of resisting every fruitless attempt to interrupt its happiness. — Sterne. Nothing is more moving to man than the spectacle of reconciliation: our weaknesses are thus indemnified, and are not too costly, being the price we pay for the hour of forgiveness ; and the archangel -who has never felt anger, has reason to envy the man who subdues it. When thou forgivest, the man who has pierced thy heart stands to thee in the relation of the sea- worm that perforates the shell of the mussel, which straightway closes the wound with a pearl. RlCHTER. The duty of Christian forgiveness does not FORGIVENESS. 281 require you, nor are you allowed, to look on in- justice, or any other fault, with indifference, as if it were nothing wrong at all, merely because it is you that have been wronged. But even where we cannot but censure, in a moral point of view, the conduct of those who have injured us, we should remember that such treatment as may be very fitting for them to re- ceive may be very unfitting for us to give. To cherish, or to gratify, haughty resentment, is a departure from the pattern left to us by Him who " endured such contradiction of sinners against Himself," not to. be justified by any offence that can be committed against us. And it is this recollection of Him who, faultless Him- self, designed to leave us an example of meek- ness and long-suffering, that is the true principle and motive of Christian forgiveness. We shall best fortify our patience under injuries by re- membering how much we ourselves have to be forgiven, and that it was " while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Let the Christian, therefore, accustom himself to say of anyone who has greatly wronged him, That man owes me an hundred pence. An old Spanish writer says, "To return evil for good is devilish ; to return good for good is human ; but to return good for evil is Godlike." — Whately. 19 282 IDEALS OF LIFE. «% Woman, behold thy son! Then saith He to the disciple, Behold thy mother ! — St. John xix. 26, 27. ^REAT, great was Mary's dole, A sword had pierced her soul ! But lo, a word of tenderness Illumined her distress. Out of the heart of Christ The word that has sufficed Ten thousand times to soften loss, Was spoken from the Cross. My soul! the sympathy That crowns humanity Flows ever from the Saviour's heart; And though all hope depart Of other help and cheer, Still through the darkness here There shines a more than earthly light To glorify the night. Where shall we meet together, but where Christ is ? What shall be our bond of union, but by the Cross? It is from His Cross that this grace flows of fidelity, of mutual love, and patience. Virgin purity is there in the blessed Mother ; and in the wife of Cleopas the married SYMPATHY. 283 state ; and penitence in Mary Magdalene ; and Divine love in St. John, — that in these may be represented the fulness of the Church in mutual aid and one heart united. And thee, O Blessed among women, the Divine word of prophecy hath there found. He has become "a sign to be spoken against," as foretold, and the "sword is in thine own soul ;" but there is to be learned at the foot of the Cross resignation to the Di- vine will, and in deepest agonies the Will of God made to be our will. And there, too, even now is comfort ; for from whence He says, Be- hold thy son! He is our elder Brother ; from henceforth we are as brethren, born, as it were, of one and the same mother, and His Father be- comes our Father. By His Cross we are all made one. There, where we are gathered to- gether in His name, is He in the midst of us, and speaking to us from the Cross. O, what a lively emblem is this of Christian united wor- ship, when all the world speak another lan- guage, and look on from afar with other eyes, not ashamed of Christ Crucified, to hear His still small voice speaking to us from His Altar of the Cross ! When the tempest, and the earth- quake, and the fire have ceased ; when the rage, and the tumult, and the fierce flame of perse- cution hath been lulled, with this last dying voice He speaks to us, exhorting us to love one another, as He hath loved us; and that he that doeth the will of God shall be to Him 284 • IDEALS OF LIFE. as brother, and sister, and mother. — Isaac Williams. When I look into the frame and constitution of my own mind, there is no part of it which I observe with greater satisfaction than that tender- ness and concern which it bears for the good and happiness of mankind. My own circumstances are indeed so narrow and scanty that I should taste but very little pleasure could I receive it only from those enjoyments which are in my own possession; but by this great tincture of human- ity, which I find in all my thoughts and reflec- tions, I am happier than any single person can be r with all the wealth, strength, beauty and success that can be conferred upon a mortal, if he only relishes such a proportion of these blessings as vested in himself and in his own private prop- erty. By this means every man that does him- self any real service, does me a kindness. I come in for my share in all the good that hap- pens to a man of merit and virtue, and par- take of many gifts of fortune and power that I was never born to. There is nothing in par- ticular in which I so much rejoice as the deliver- ance of good and generous spirits out of dan- gers, difficulties and distresses. — Addison. Whenever we are formed by nature to any active purpose, the passion which animates us to it is attended with delight, or pleasure of some kind, let the subject-matter be what it will; and as our Creator has designed that we should be SYMPATHY. 285 united by the bond of sympathy, He has strengthened that bond by a proportionable de- light; and these where our sympathy is most wanted, — in the distresses of others. If this passion be simply painful, we should shun with the greatest care all persons and places that could excite such a passion ; as some, who are so far gone in indolence as not to endure any strong impression, actually do. But the case is widely different with the greater part of man- kind : there is no spectacle we so eagerly pur- sue as that of some uncommon and grievous calamity ; so that whether the misfortune is be- fore our eyes, or whether they are turned back to it in history, it always touches with delight. This is not an unmixed delight, but blended with no small uneasiness. The delight we have in such things hinders us from shunning scenes of misery; and the pain we feel prompts us to re- lieve ourselves in relieving those who suffer; and all this is antecedent to any reasoning, by an instinct that works us to its own purposes without our concurrence. — Burke. Every man rejoices twice when he has a partner of his joy ; a friend shares my sorrow and makes it but a moiety ; but he swells my joy and makes it double. For so two channels divide the river, and lessen it into rivulets, and make it fordable, and apt to be drunk up by the first revels of the Sirian star ; but two torches do not divide but increase the flame : 236 IDEALS OF LIFE. and though my tears are the sooner dried up when they run on my friend's cheeks in the fur- rows of compassion, yet when my flame hath kindled his lamp we unite the glories and make them radiant, like the golden candlesticks that burn before the throne of God, because they shine by numbers, by unions, and confederations of light and joy. — Jeremy Taylor. Let us cherish sympathy. By attention and exercise it may be improved in every man. It prepares the mind for receiving the impressions of virtue : and without it there can be no true politeness. Nothing is more odious than that insensibility which wraps a man up in himself and his own concerns, and prevents his being moved with either the joys or the sorrows of another. — Beattie. We must not make too much of sympathy, as mere feeling. We do in things spiritual as we do with hot-house plants. The feeble exotic, beautiful to look at, but useless, has costly sums spent on it. The hardy oak, a nation's strength, is permitted to grow, scarcely observed, in the fence and copses. We prize feeling, and praise its posses- sor. But feeling is only a sickly exotic in itself,. — a passive quality, having in it nothing moral- no temptation, and no victory. A man is no more a good man for having feeling than he is for having a delicate ear for music, or a far-see- ing optic nerve. The Son of Man had feeling; He could be " touched." The tear would start SYMPATHY. 287 from His eyes at the sight of human sorrow. But that sympathy was no exotic in His soul, beautiful to look at, too delicate for use. Feel- ing with Him led to this : " He went about doing good." Sympathy with Him was this : " Grace to help in time of need." . . . He who would sympathize must be content to be tried and tempted. There is a hard and boisterous rudeness in our hearts by nature, which requires to be softened down. We pass by suf- fering gayly, carelessly ; not in cruelty, but un- feelingly, just because we do not know what suf- fering is. We wound men by our looks and our abrupt expressions without intending it, because we have not been taught the delicacy, and the tact, and the gentleness, which can only be learnt by the wounding of our own sensibilities. There is a haughty feeling in uprightness which has never been on the verge of fall, that requires humbling. There is an inability to enter into difficulties of thought, which marks the mind to which all things have been presented super- ficially, and which has never experienced the horror of feeling the ice of doubt crashing be- neath the feet. Therefore, if you aspire to be a son of con- solation ; if you would partake of the priestly gift of sympathy ; if you would pour something beyond common-place consolation into a tempted heart; if you would pass through the intercourse of daily life with the delicate tact which never IDEALS OF LIFE. inflicts pain ; if to that most acute of human ail- ments, mental doubt, you are ever to give effec- tual succor, — you must be content to pay the price of the costly education. Like Him, you must suffer — being tempted. — F. W. Robertson. J^pmkntk To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise. — St. Luke xxiii. 43. UT of the depth of woe (2 ^ Which He Himself did know, Compassion for the thief arose : What love did it disclose? It was Almighty Love Descended from above, That sometimes reacheth down, down, down, And lifteth to a crown ! My Saviour crucified! No penitence e'er cried To Him, but some assuring voice Did make the heart rejoice. Down, down, all earthly pride, Before the Crucified ! REPENTANCE. 289 To be with Him in Paradise, Meek heart, arise ! arise ! The sight of a penitent on his knees is a spectacle which moves heaven ; and the compas- sionate Redeemer, who when he beheld Saul in that situation, exclaimed, Behold, he prayeth, will not be slow nor reluctant to strengthen you by His might and console you by His Spirit. When a new and living way is opened into the holiest of all, by the blood of Jesus, not to avail our- selves of it, not to arise and go to our Father, but to prefer remaining at a guilty distance, en- compassed with famine, to the rich and everlast- ing provisions of His house, will be a source of insupportable anguish when we shall see Abra- ham, Isaac, and Jacob enter into the kingdom of God, and ourselves shut out. You are probably not aware of what importance it is to improve these sacred visitations ; have not considered that •they form a crisis which, if often neglected, will never rctu'n. It is impossible too often to incul- cate the momentous truth, that the character is not formed by passive impressions, but by volun- tary actions, and that we shall be judged hereaf- ter, not by what we have felt, but by what we have done. — Robert Hall. A death -bed repentance ought not indeed to be neglected, because it is the last thing that we can do. — Atterbury. Some well-meaning Christians tremble for 290 IDEALS OF LIFE. their salvation, because they have never gone through that valley of tears and of sorrow, which they have been taught to consider as an ordeal that must be passed through before they can ar- rive at regeneration : to satisfy such minds it may be observed that the slightest sorrow for sin is sufficient if it produce amendment, and that the greatest is insufficient if it do not. There- fore, by their own fruits let them prove them- selves: for some soils will take the good seed without being watered with tears or harrowed up by affliction — Colton. Before repentance, we think well of ourselves and lightly of the Redeemer. We love sin and folly, and dislike the restraints which the Divine law imposes on the gratification of our appetites and inclinations. We devote our hearts, and with them our thoughts, and time, and substance, to the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, without any dread of the Divine condemnation. We are not sorry for our transgressions ; we do not confess them before God ; we drive away all thoughts of a future state. We do not feel disposed to seek the Lord: His Word is a wearisome study to us: His Gospel is repulsive to our taste : His service is dull and disgusting: and instead of desiring His blessing above all things, the most common toils and vainest amusements of the world seem far better in our eyes than all the enjoyments religion can bestow. FORSAKEN. 291 But when repentance seizes on the soul, the heart is changed. That is, the sinner begins to love what before he hated, and to hate what be- fore he loved. He sees his own character in a new light, he judges his conduct by a new stand- ard, and he feels himself condemned under the righteous judgment of his Maker. He now ap- proves and loves the law of God ; he confesses and abhors his own iniquity ; he is ready to give up his sinful indulgencies, and foolish pleasures ; he is anxious to have pardon and forgiveness at the hands of the Almighty; he is prompt to be- lieve in the Redeemer with his whole heart ; and offers up, with earnest simplicity, the publican's prayer, ' God be merciful to me a sinner.' Death, and judgment, and eternity, are now fre- quent in his thoughts; and he feels that all his hope must be placed on the obedience and atonement of Christ, and all his joys drawn from the fountain of the Gospel. — Bishop Hop- kins. 'G2£s©^jx?$D- Hambm My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me ? — St ( Matthew xxviii. 46. |H darkness as of death (2 ^ Where none delivereth ! 292 IDEALS OF LIFE. Oh wine - press of the wrath of Goo: In that great darkness trod ! Oh grief too great to paint I Oh troubled, burdened Saint On whom the sins of all the world Are as a mountain hurled ! His sight has grown so dim God has forsaken Him ! Forsakes He God? My God! His cry. All hope is in that My. He clings to God through all The wormwood and the gall, He clings through all the strife of blood, Triumphant Lamb of God ! What, in truth was the unutterable desolation of our Blessed Lord at that moment, we know not. Whether the bitterness of the Cup which He had prayed might pass from Him, if such should be His Father's will, was condensed into that hour of loneliness unspeakable, we may not dare to say ; but each of us may receive for him- self a thought of comfort, little understood, it may be, in the bright hopefulness of youth, but ready to return, in future years, in hours of pain and weakness. Depression of mind and spiritual desertion are no proofs of the rejection of God. Rather, like bodily sufferings, they form part of that resemblance to our Redeemer, which will, FORSAKEN. 293 for His sake, render us more acceptable to our Heavenly Father. Who shall dread the bed of pain, when Jesus hung upon the Cross of agony ? or who shall fear to trust his soul to God, even when the heart is parched and dry, and every holier thought is for the moment lost in the conscious- ness of suffering, since even the Only-begotten Son of the Eternal Father could exclaim in the greatness of His misery, " My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" — Miss Sewell. Weigh well that cry ; consider it well, and tell me if ever there were cry like that of His. . . . The Powers of Darkness let loose to afflict Him, — the influence of comfort restrained from relieving Him, — never was there sorrow like unto His sorrow ! It cannot be expressed as it should, and as other things may. In silence we may admire it, but all our words will not reach it. — Bishop Andrews. Now, observe, this feeling of forsakeness is no proof of being forsaken. Mourning after an ab- sent God is an evidence of love as strong as re- joicing in a present One. Nay, further, a man may be more decisively the servant of God and goodness while doubting His existence, and in the anguish of his soul crying for light, than while resting in a common creed, and coldly serving Him. There has been one, at least, whose appa- rent forsakeness, and whose seeming doubt bears the stamp of the majesty of Faith. " My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken Me ? " . . . 294 IDEALS OF LIFE. There are times when a dense cloud veils the sunlight ; you cannot see the sun, nor feel him. Sensitive temperaments feel depression, and that unaccountably and irresistibly. No effort can make you feel. Then you hope. Behind the cloud the sun is ; from thence he will come ; the day drags through, the darkest and longest night ends at last. Thus we bear the darkness and the otherwise intolerable cold, and many a sleepless night. It does not shine now, but it will. So, too, spiritually. There are hours in which physical derange- ment darkens the windows of the soul ; days in which shattered nerves make life simply endu- rance ; months and years in which intellectual difficulties, pressing for solution, shut out God. Then faith must be replaced by hope. " What I do thou knowest not now; bat thou shalt know hereafter." Clouds and darkness are round about Him ; but Righteousness and Truth are the habi- tation of His throne. " My soul, hope thou in God ; for I ill yet praise Him, who is the health of my countenance and my God." The mistake we make is to look for a source comfort in ourselves: self- contemplation, instead of gazing upon God. In other words, we look for comfort precisely where comfort never can be. For, first, it is impossible to derive consola- tion from our own feelings, because of their im- utability : to-day we are well, and our spiritual experience, partaking of these circumstances, is FORSAKEN. 295 bright ; but to-morrow some outward circumstances change, — the sun does not shine, or the wind is chill, — and we are low, gloomy, and sad. Then, if our hopes were unreasonably elevated, they will now be unreasonably depressed and so our ex- perience becomes flux and reflux, ebb and flow, like the sea, that emblem of instability. Next, it is impossible to get comfort from our own acts : for, though acts are the test of charac- ter, yet in a low state no man can judge justly of his own acts. They assume a darkness of hue which is reflected on them by the eye that contemplates them. It would be well for all men to remember that sinners cannot judge of sin, — least of all can we estimate our own sin. Besides, we lose time in remorse. I have sinned. — Well, by the grace of God I must en- deavor to do better for the future. But if I mourn for it overmuch, all to - day refusing to be comforted, to-morrow I shall have to mourn the wasted to-day; and that again will be the sub- ject of another fit of remorse. In the wilderness, had the children of Israel, instead of gazing on the serpent, looked down on their own wounds, to watch the process of the granulation of the flesh, and see how deep the wound was, and whether it was healing slowly or fast, cure would have been impossible ; their only chance was to look off the wounds. Just so, when, giving up this hopeless and sick- ening work of self- inspection, and turning from 296 IDEALS OF LIFE. ourselves in Christian self-oblivion, we gaze on God, then first the chance of consolation dawns. He is not affected by our mutability; our changes do not alter Him. When we are rest- less, He remains serene and calm; when we are low, selfish, mean, or dispirited, He is still the unalterable I am, — the same yesterday, to-day, and forever, in whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. What God is in Himself, — - not what we may chance to feel Him in this or that moment to be, — that is our hope. "My soul, hope thou in God." — F. W. Robertson. ipiw wjfot I thirst. — St. Jonh xix. 28. /T*vj |T THIRST, the Saviour cried, °^ Before He bowed and died. That thirst went quivering through the whole Of the Eternal Soul. He thirsted for the day When sin shall pass away, The day that endeth human thrall When God is all in all. SPIRITUAL THIRST. 297 This more than earthly word Unnumbered souls hath stirred. What is the thirst that filleth mine? Is it the thirst divine ? Oh, had we all the thirst In which the Christ was first, Then Duty, Truth, and Life were one, Like Father, Spirit, Son. Our Saviour, as He hung on the Cross, un- doubtedly experienced, as anyone else might have done, a real physical thirst ; but in satisfying it, in some sort, by means of the vinegar offered in genuine kindness by the Roman soldiers, He sat- isfied also a spiritual thirst — the thirst which be- longs to everyone who is intent on doing the will of God, manifested in the way of His Prov- idence. The former was the shadow, the latter the substance : the one temporal, the other eter- nal. . A draught was twice offered to Him ; once it was accepted, once it was refused. That which was refused was the medicated potion, — wine mingled with myrrh, — the intention of which was to deaden pain, and therefore when it was pre- sented to the Saviour it was rejected. And the reason commonly assigned for that seems to be the true one; the Son of Man would not meet death in a state of stupefaction. He chose to meet His God awake. There are two ways in 20 -298 IDEALS OF LIFE. which pain may be struggled with, — through the flesh and through the Spirit ; the one is the office of the physician, the other that of the other that of the Christian. The physician's care is at once to deaden pain, either by insensibility or specifics; the Christian's object is to deaden pain by pa- tience. We dispute not the value of the physi- cian's remedies, — in their way they are permissible and valuable ; but yet, let it be observed that in these there is nothing moral ; they may take away the venom of the serpent's sting, but they do not give the courage to plant the foot upon the serpent's head and to bear the pain without flinching. Therefore, the Redeemer refused be- cause it was not through the flesh, but through the Spirit, that He would conquer; to have accepted the anodyne would have been to escape from suffering, but not to conquer it. But the vinegar or sour wine was accepted as a refresh- ing draught, for it would seem that He did not look upon the value of suffering as consisting in this, that He should make it as exquisite as pos- sible, but rather that He should not suffer one drop of the cup of agony which His Father had put into His hand to trickle down the side un- tasted. Neither would He make to Himself one drop more of suffering than His Father had given. There are books on the value of pain; they tell us that of two kinds of food, the one pleas- ant and the other nauseous, we are to choose the SPIRITUAL THIRST. 299 nauseous one. Let a lesson on this subject be learnt from the example of our Divine Master. To suffer pain for others without flinching, — that is our Master's example ; but pain, for the mere sake of pain, that is not Christian ; to accept poverty in order to do good for others, that is our Saviour's principle ; but to become poor for the sake and merit of being poor, is but selfishness after all. Our Lord refused the anodyne that would have made the cup untasted which His Father had put into His hand to drink, but He would not taste one drop more than His Father gave Him. Yet He did not refuse the natural solace which His Father's hand had placed before Him. There are some who urge, most erroneously, the doctrine of discipline and self-denial. If of two ways one is disagreeable, they will choose it, just because it is disagreeable ; because food is pleasant and needful, they will fast. There is in this a great mistake. To deny self for the sake of duty is right, — to sacrifice life and interests rather than principle is right; but self-denial for mere sake of self-denial, torture for torture's sake, is neither good nor Christ-like. Remember, Fie drank the cooling beverage in the very mo- ment of the sacrifice ; the value of which did not consist in its being made as intensely painful as possible, but in His not flinching from the pain, when Love and Duty said, Endure. — F. W. Rob- ertson. 300 IDEALS OF LIFE. Jtife'a Sompfoliott* When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, He said, It is fin- ished : ap-i He bowed His head, and gave up the ghost. — St. John xix. 30.. Finished, what prophets tola $tP Concerning Thee of old, The beautiful in word and deed Almighty God decreed ! Finished, O King of kings, Unutterable things Thy loving kindness deigns to show Thy servants here below ! Finished, the Sacrifice Which opens Paradise, And to the wanderer makes plain How to return again ! Finished, O Christ, the strife Of Thy victorious life, Which is forever Truth's one way Unto Eternal Day! Our Master said, " It is finished," partly for others, partly for Himself. In the earliest part of His life, we read that He said, " I have a bap- tism to be baptized with ; " to Him, as to every human soul, this life had its side of darkness and LIFE'S COMPLETION. 301 gloom, but all that was now accomplished : He had drunk his last earthly drop of Anguish, He has to drink the wine no more till He drink it new in His Father's kingdom. It was finished ; all was over ; and with, as it were, a burst of subdued joy, He says, "It is finished." There is another aspect in which we may regard these words, as spoken for others. The way in which our Redeemer contemplated this life was altogether a peculiar one. He looked upon it, not as a place of rest or pleasure, but simply, solely, as a place of duty. He was here to do His Fathers will, not His own; and there- fore, now that life was closed, He looked upon it chiefly as a duty that was fulfilled. We have the meaning of this in the seventh chapter of this Gospel : " I have glorified Thee on earth, I have finished the work which Thou gavest me to do." The duty is done, the work is finished. Let us each apply this to ourselves. That hour is coming to us all ; indeed, it is, perhaps, now come. The dark night settles down on each day. " It is finished." We are ever taking leave of something that will not come back again. We let go, with a pang, portion after portion of our existence. However dreary we may have felt life to be here, yet when that hour comes —the winding up of all things, the last grand rush of darkness on our spirits, the hour of that awful and sudden wrench from all we have ever 302 IDEALS OF LIFE. known or loved, the long farewell to sun, moon r stars, and light, — Brother men, I ask you. this day, and I ask myself, humbly and fearfully, What will be finished? When it is finished, what will it be ? Will it be the butterfly ex- istence of pleasure, the mere life of science, a life of uninterrupted sin and selfish gratification; or will it be, "Father, I have finished the work which Thou gavest me to do."— F. W. Robert- son. The Incarnation is the perpetual interpretation of our life. Jesus cries, " It is finished," on His Cross, and at once it is evident that that finishing is but a beginning ; that it is a breaking to pieces of the temporal, that it may be lost in the eternal ! That Cross is the perpetual glori- fication of the shortness of life. In its light we, too, can stand by the departing form of our own life, or of some brother's life, and say, " It is finished," and know that the finishing is really a beginning. The temporary is melting away like a cloud in the sky, that the great total sky may all be seen. The form in which the man has lived is decaying, that the real life of the man may be apparent. The fashion of this world is passing away ; the episode, the acci- dent of earth is over, that the spiritual reality may be clear. It is in the light of the Cross that the exquisite picture of Shelley, who tried so hard to be heathen and would still be Chris- tian in his own despite, is really realized, — LIFE'S COMPLETION. 303 "The one remains, the many change and pass; Heaven's light forever shines; earth's shadows fly; Life, like a dome of many - colored glass, Stains the white radiance of eternity, Until death tramples it to fragments." And so, what is there to be done? What could be clearer ? Only to him who realizes eternity does the short human life really seem short and give out of its shortness its true sol- emnity and blessing. It is only by binding my- self to eternity that I can know the shortness of time. But how shall I bind myself to eter- nity except by giving myself tp Him who is eternal in obedient love ? Obedient love ! Lov- ing obedience ! That , is what binds the soul of the less to the soul of the greater everywhere. I give myself to the Eternal Christ, and in His eternity I find my own. In His service I am bound to Him, and the shortness of that life, whose limitations in any way shut me out from Him, becomes an inspiration, not a burden to men. Oh, my dear friends, you who with Chris- tian faith have seen a Christian die, tell me was not this short life then revealed to you in all its beauty? Did you not see completely that no life was too long which Christ had filled with the gift and knowledge of Himself; no life was too short which departed from the earth only to go and be with Him in Heaven forever ? — Phillips Brooks. If length of days be thy portion, make it not thy expectation. Reckon not upon long life ; Z()4 IDEALS OF LIFE. think every day the last, and live always beyond thy account. He that so often survives his ex- pectations lives many lives, and will scarce com- plain of the shortness of his days. Time past is gone like a shadow; make time to come pres- ent. Approximate thy latter times by present apprehensions of them ; be like a neighbor unto the grave, and think there is but little time to come. And since there is something of us that will still live on, join both lives together and live in one but for the other. He who thus ordereth the purposes of this life will never be far from the next; and is in some manner already in it> by a happy conformity and close apprehension of it. — Sir Thomas Browne. They who are most weary of life, and yet are most unwilling to die, are such who have lived to no purpose, — who have rather breathed than lived. — Earl of Clarendon, The mere lapse of years is not life. To eat, and drink, and sleep, — to be exposed to dark- ness and the light, — to pace round in the mill of habit, and turn thought into an implement of trade, — this is not life. In all this but a poor fraction of the consciousness of humanity is awakened ; and the sanctities will slumber which make it worth while to be. Knowledge, truth, love, beauty, goodness, faith, alone can give vital- ity to the mechanism of existence- The laugh of mirth that vibrates through the heart; the tears that freshen the dry wastes within ; the music LIFE'S COMPLETION. 305 that brings childhood back ; the prayer that calls the future near; the doubt which makes us med- itate ; the death which startles us with mystery ; the hardship which forces us to struggle ; the anxiety which ends in trust; are the true nour- ishment of our natural being. — James Martineau. Every man is to himself what Plato calls the Great Year. He has his sowing time, his grow- ing time, his weeding, his irrigating, and his har- vest. The principles and the ideas he puts into his mind in youth lie there, it may be, for many years, apparently unprolific. But nothing dies. There is a process going on unseen, and by the touch of circumstances the man springs forth into strength, he knows not why, as if by a miracle. But, after all, he only reaps as he had sown. — J. A. St. John. The end of life is to be like unto God ; and the soul following God will be like unto Him : He being the beginning, the middle, and end of all things. — Socrates. Life's evening, we may rest assured, will take its character from the day which has preceded it ; and if we would close our career in the comfort of religious hope, we must prepare for it by early and continuous religious habit. — Bishop Shuttleworth. 306 IDEALS OF LIFE. m % Father, into Thy hands I commend My Spirit. — St. Luke xxiii. 46, ; LORY to Christ I give, Who taught me how to live. With grateful heart to Him I cry, Who taught me how to die. Through Thee, dear Lord of Life, All girded for the strife, I know that over every sin A triumph I may win. Through Thee, dear Lord of Death, Who with Thy latest breath Thy spirit didst to God commend, That one unfailing Friend, I know, I know that I May gain the victory, And enter Heaven through that last foe Whom I shall meet below. " Into Thy hands," that is sufficient. It is as well to look at these things as simply as possi- ble. Do not confuse the mind with attempting to draw the distinction between the human and the Divine. He speaks here as if His human soul, like ours, entered into the dark unknown, DEATH. 307 not seeing what was to be in the Hereafter : and this is Faith, or, if it were not so, there arises an idea from which we shrink, as if He were speaking words He did not feel. We know nothing of the world beyond, we are like chil- dren ; even revelation has told 12s almost nothing concerning this, and an inspired Apostle says, " We know not yet what we shall be." Then rises Faith and dares to say, " My Father, I know nothing, but, be where I may, still I am with Thee." " Into Thy hands I commend my spirit." Therefore, and only therefore, do we dare to die. — F. W. Robertson. Take away but the pomps of death, the dis- guises and solemn bugbears, and the actings by candlelight, and proper and fantastic ceremonies, the minstrels and the noise-makers, the women and the weepers, the swoonings and the shriek- ings, the nurses and the physicians, the dark room and the ministers, the kindred and the watches, and then to die is easy, ready, and quitted from its troublesome circumstances. It is the same harmless thing that a poor shepherd suffered yesterday, or a maid-servant io-day ; and at the same time in which you die, Jn that very night a thousand creatures die with /<®