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Copyright, 1908, by Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. 
 Published September, 1908 
 
 IlISRARY of CONGRESS 
 1 wo GODies Hecaiv<)fi 
 
 AUG. 5 J 1908 
 cj>PY a. 
 
 * 1 1 *»»mrmi>itmmm0mm 
 
 
 D. B. Updike, The Merrymount Press, Boston 
 
Cl)e ifree JLtfe 
 
 "And be not conformed to this world : but be ye trans- 
 formed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove 
 what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of 
 God." Rom. 2cii: 2. 
 
 €T^ |*HE college graduate almost 
 \^_JL always thinks of himself as 
 just about to begin life. There is a 
 great deal that is false and merely- 
 conventional in the thought. He has 
 been in the midst of life twenty 
 years and more, and every year has 
 added to the intimacy and the va- 
 riety of his contact with the per- 
 sons and the circumstances that lay 
 about him. Particularly after he en- 
 tered college he must have been 
 aware that earlier trammels and 
 safeguards had fallen away and that 
 he was put upon his mettle as a man 
 to win a place and make a career. 
 What happens to him at graduation 
 is no sudden or violent thing. The 
 
Ci^e free Uft 
 
 scene will only slowly widen about 
 him as hitherto. 
 Of course it is true in respect of 
 most young men that the paths they 
 have trod in their years of tutelage 
 have been sheltered and private ways 
 such as thoughtful love has pre- 
 pared, generation after generation, 
 for the feet of the boys who are to 
 be nurtured and trained for the work 
 of their years of independence and 
 maturity. I pity the man who cannot 
 look back to those delicious seques- 
 tered places from which we first 
 saw the world, that dear covert made 
 by mothers' and fathers' love and 
 kept inviolable by all the gentle arts 
 of guardian care. What free spaces 
 there were for play and all light- 
 hearted sport! How generously long 
 those golden days seemed, and with 
 what gracious figures they were 
 filled, of knights and fairies and he- 
 roes who seemed our very com- 
 rades! How slowly the years moved, 
 
Ci^e free life 
 
 and how good it was that they were 
 long and full of dreams ! 
 
 The years presently quickened their 
 pace, you remember, and when we 
 became schoolboys the world grew 
 more definite about us: there were 
 fewer dreams and more realities. 
 But the paths were still sheltered 
 and delightful. There was no anxious 
 shifting for ourselves: the plan of 
 our days was made for us. They were 
 still free days, made for sport and 
 pleasure. School hours and study 
 only gave zest to play and to all the 
 unchartered liberties of the mind. 
 We did not come upon short days 
 and engrossing tasks and the feeling 
 that work was the veritable master 
 in all things until we got to college ; 
 and even there we kept, perhaps 
 kept too long, the spirit of boys, and 
 made the work as much as might be 
 an incident still, and not an occupa- 
 tion. 
 
 In a very real sense, therefore, you 
 
 3 
 
Ci^e free JLife 
 
 are at the threshold of the life which 
 is to mean constant and independ- 
 ent endeavor, the actual making of 
 the careers you have been looking 
 forward to ; and this is the day, the 
 very sacred day of special counsel, 
 when we ask ourselves what chart 
 and mode of life we have found by 
 which to determine and make safe 
 our course of life henceforth, by 
 which to make sure of hope and 
 courage to sustain us as we break 
 up these dear comradeships, leave a 
 little world that has known us, and 
 severally seek places for ourselves 
 among strangers. The text of Scrip- 
 ture that has seemed to come most 
 directly to meet my thought as I 
 pondered this turning-point in your 
 life is that which is contained in cer- 
 tain words to be found in the second 
 verse of the twelfth chapter of Ro- 
 mans: '*Be not conformed to this 
 world : but be ye transformed by the 
 renewing of your mind, that ye may 
 4 
 
Cl^e {(free JLtfe 
 
 prove what is that good, and accept- 
 able, and perfect, will of God." 
 
 It may seem strange and futile 
 counsel to give to a company of 
 young men who are about to go out 
 into the world to ask a living of it — 
 a chance to serve it, to partake of its 
 life and of its rewards — to tell them 
 that they must not conform to what 
 they find, must not accept the rules 
 of the life they enter as novices, 
 by permission and not by right, 
 which they enter as those who would 
 learn and not as those who would 
 teach. Their advice will neither be 
 asked nor accepted, and they will be 
 laughed at for their pains if they offer 
 it. But the counsel of the words I have 
 quoted is no counsel of presumption. 
 It is a mere counsel of integrity. The 
 "world" is no fixed thing or order 
 of life that stands unchanged from 
 generation to generation, or even 
 from day to day. Its habit and prac- 
 tice change with every generation 
 
 5 
 
Ci^e free Life 
 
 that rules it, and your generation is 
 to come, one of these days, upon its 
 years of rule. Have you anything in 
 your hearts which will distinguish 
 you from the common run of men 
 who lose themselves in the mass and 
 never emerge again carrying any 
 light of their own? 
 "Be not conformed to this world," 
 — this world that is always chan- 
 ging, that is never sure that it sees 
 any fixed points or stands upon any 
 lasting foundation. You have been 
 given an opportunity to get the off- 
 ing and perspective of books, of the 
 truths which are of no age, but run 
 unbroken and unaltered throughout 
 the changeful life of all ages. You 
 know the long measurements, the 
 high laws, by which the world's pro- 
 gress has ever been gauged and as- 
 sessed, — laws of sound thinkingand 
 pure motive which seem to lie apart 
 in calm regions which passion can- 
 not disturb, into whose pure air wan- 
 6 
 
Ci^e jfree Uft 
 
 der no mists or confusions or threats 
 of storm. Amidst every altered as- 
 pect of time and circumstance the hu- 
 man heart has remained unchanged. 
 No doubt there were simpler ages, 
 when the things which now per- 
 plex us in hope and conduct seemed 
 very plain. If life confuses us now, 
 no doubt it is because we do not see 
 it simply and see it whole. Look back 
 more often and you shall find your 
 vision adjusted for the look ahead. 
 Reflections like these seem to me 
 to spring naturally to the thought 
 out of the words of Scripture coun- 
 sel I have read. "Be not conformed 
 to this world : but be ye transformed 
 by the renewing of your mind," — by 
 that simplification of motive and of 
 standard which is a return to a sort 
 of youth and naturalness of thought 
 drawn out of those only fountains 
 of perpetual youth, the fountains of 
 just thought and true feeling. At 
 them, and only at them, do you get 
 
 7 
 
Ci^e free Life 
 
 a veritable and constant renewal of 
 your minds: the refreshment which 
 brings back the taste for all things 
 sweet and primitive in their truth. 
 These fountains have always lain 
 about you, — when you were children, 
 when you were gro wingyouths, since 
 you became men with open eyes, 
 here in college. 
 
 Some of them are the fountains of 
 learning, which have here been so 
 accessible to you. If their waters 
 have not tasted pure and sweet to 
 you, with a tang of the wholesome 
 earth that renews all things, it is 
 because you have drunk of them 
 neither often enough nor copiously 
 enough to wash the dust of the com- 
 mon road from your palates. Learn- 
 ing is knowledge purged of all that 
 is untested and ephemeral. It is nei- 
 ther the rumour of the street nor the 
 talk of the shop nor the conjecture 
 of the salon. It has been purified and 
 sifted in quiet rooms to which pass- 
 8 
 
Ci^e IFree Life 
 
 ing fashions of thought do not pene- 
 trate. It has passed through mind 
 after mind Hke water through the 
 untainted depths of the earth, and 
 springs to the places of its revela- 
 tion, not a thing of the surface, but a 
 thing from within where the sources 
 of thought lie. Men come and go, 
 but these things abide, like the face 
 of the heavens. Age is linked with 
 age by the permanence of the phy- 
 sical universe and the unchanging 
 nature of the human spirit. Hearts 
 are ever the same, whatever the set- 
 ting of the stage or the plot of the 
 play. 
 
 And so the fountains of learning 
 become the fountains of perpetual 
 youth. At them are our minds re- 
 newed; at them do we drink of the 
 pure waters undefiled whose sources 
 lie below all circumstance, all ac- 
 cident, all surface temperature or 
 season. Afterwe have tasted of them 
 much of the talk of the day seems 
 
 9 
 
Cl^e free £tfe 
 
 like the mere lees of cheap wine, 
 of the vintage of yesterday. We are 
 renewed by learning in the sense 
 that our minds are, as it were, 
 brought back to the originals and 
 first bases of thought, to direct com- 
 munion with all that is primitive and 
 permanent and beyond analysis or 
 conjecture: as our manners are re- 
 newed — that is, simplified — when 
 social convention and all mere 
 fashion falls away in the presence 
 of danger, of sincere, unselfish love, 
 and of all pure passion; as our lungs 
 are renewed by the pure, untainted 
 air of free uplands or by the keen 
 breath of the wind that comes out 
 of the hills. Learning has come into 
 the world, not merely to clear men's 
 eyes and give them mastery over 
 nature and human circumstance, 
 but also to keep them young, never 
 staled, always new, like the stars and 
 the hills and the sea and the vagrant 
 winds, which make nothing of times 
 
 10 
 
Cl^e free Life 
 
 or occasions, but live always in se- 
 rene freedom from any touch of de- 
 cay, the sources of their being some 
 high law which we cannot disturb. 
 But the fountains of learning are 
 not the only fountains of perpetual 
 youth and renewal. There are other 
 springs of the spirit which, like the 
 springs of learning, renew us from 
 age to age in all our spiritual quali- 
 ties, which hold us to the originals 
 of all that is fresh and enjoyable 
 in the life from which we draw our 
 strength. There are the fountains 
 of friendship, copious, free, inex- 
 haustible, confined to no time or 
 region or season. Do we not know 
 them? Do they not abound in this 
 place? Whether we have resorted 
 to the fountains of learning or not, 
 though we may have neglected them 
 in our folly, we have known the re- 
 freshment of these other sources of 
 renewal, these sweet fountains of 
 friendship, — have drunk of them al- 
 ii 
 
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 most to intoxication here in this 
 place of comradeships. I hope that 
 we have drunk of them with com- 
 prehending hearts, perceiving the 
 true and excellent quality of the 
 sweet waters we quaffed. If pure 
 and taken with pure lips, they will 
 have given us taste of unselfishness 
 and self-sacrifice. That is not true 
 friendship which proceeds merely 
 from the action of a self-pleasing 
 taste, which is nothing more than 
 a self-indulgent pleasure It is very 
 delightful to consort with compan- 
 ions who gratify our zest for good 
 fellowship, amuse us with gay talk 
 and entertaining jest, walk our own 
 familiar ways of thought and feeling, 
 welcome our coming and never bore 
 us; who, if dull, are dull to our liking, 
 of the quality of dullness that rests 
 and reassures us. But friendship is 
 a much larger, much finer, much 
 deeper thing, than this mere relish 
 of good company. It is a great deal 
 
 12 
 
Ci^e ifree iLtfe 
 
 more than mere congenial compan- 
 ionship. Let true and deep affection 
 once grip you ; let interest and plea- 
 sure once deepen into insight and 
 sympathy and a sense of vital kin- 
 ship of mind and spirit, and the re- 
 lationship takes on an energy and 
 a poignancy you had not dreamed 
 of in your easy search for pleasure. 
 Spirit leaps to spirit with a new 
 understanding, a new eagerness, a 
 new desire : and then you may make 
 proof whether it be true friendship 
 or not by the quick and certain test 
 whether you love yourself or your 
 friend more at any moment of di- 
 vided interest. 
 TYue friendship is of a royal line- 
 a^e.T t IS of the sanie kith and breetf^ 
 ing as loyalty and self-forgetting de- 
 votion, and proceeds upon a higher 
 principle even than they. For loyalty 
 may be blind, and friendship must 
 not be ; devotion may sacrifice prin- 
 ciples of right choice which friend- 
 
 13 
 
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 ship must guard with an excellent 
 and watchful care. You must act 
 in your friend's interest whether it 
 please him or not: the object of love 
 is to serve, not to win. It is a hard 
 saying, I know; — who shall be pure 
 enough to receive it? There is but ^ 
 one presence in which it can be 
 made plain and acceptable, and that 
 is the presence of Christ, where it . 
 may stand revealed in the light of/ 
 that example which makes all duty -^ 
 to shine with the face of privilege 
 and of exalted joy. -* 
 
 Here are the fountains of real re- 
 newairFsuppose Oiat wecan speak / 
 of our minds as indeed renewed 
 when they are carried back in vivid I 
 consciousness to some first and pri- 
 mal standard of thought and duty ; 
 to images which seem to issue di- 
 rect from the God and Father of our 
 spirits, fresh with immediate crea- 
 tion, clear as if they had the light of 
 the first morning upon them, —as 
 14 
 
Ci^e iJFree Life 
 
 those who go back to the very 
 springs of being. It is thus of neces- 
 sity that our renewal comes through 
 love, through pure motive, through 
 intimate contact with whatever re- 
 minds us of what is permanent and 
 forever real, whether we taste it in 
 the fountains of learning, of friend- 
 ship, or of divine example, the crown 
 alike of friendship and of trutho 
 To one deep fountain of revelation 
 and renewal few of you, I take it for 
 granted, have had access yet, — I 
 mean the fountain of sorrow, a foun- 
 tain sweet or bitter according as it 
 is drunk in submission or in rebel- 
 lion, in love or in resentment and 
 deep dismay. I will not tell you of 
 these waters ; if you have not tasted 
 them, it would be futile, — and some 
 of you will understand without word 
 of mine. I can only beg that when 
 they are put to your lips, as they 
 must be, you will drink of them as 
 those who seek renewal and know 
 
 15 
 
%\)t ^ttt Life 
 
 how to make of sadness a mood of 
 enlightenment and of hope. 
 
 You will see that I but go about to 
 elucidate a single theme: that all 
 individual human life is a struggle, 
 when rightly understood and con- 
 ducted, against yielding in weak 
 accommodation to the changeful, 
 temporary, ephemeral things about 
 us, in order that we may catch that 
 permanent, authentic tone of life 
 which is the voice of the Spirit of 
 God,— 
 
 "A presence that disturbs us with the joy 
 Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime 
 Of something far more deeply interfused, 
 Whose dwelling is the light of setting 
 
 suns, 
 And the round ocean and the living air, 
 And the blue sky, and in the mind of man ; 
 A motion and a spirit that impels 
 All thinking things, all objects of all 
 
 thought. 
 And rolls through all things." 
 
 It is not a thing remote, obscure, 
 poetical, but a very real thing, that 
 i6 
 
Ci^e jftee Itfe 
 
 lives in the consciousness of every- 
 one of us. Every thoughtful man, 
 every man not merely of vagrant 
 mind, has been aware, not once, but 
 many times, of some unconquerable 
 spirit that he calls himself, which 
 is struggling against being over- 
 borne by circumstance, against be- 
 ing forced into conformity with 
 things his heart is not in, things 
 which seem to deaden him and de- 
 prive him of his natural independ- 
 ence and integrity, so that his indi- 
 viduality is lost and merged in some 
 common, undistinguishable mass, 
 the nameless multitudes of a world 
 that ceaselessly shifts and alters 
 and is never twice the same. He 
 feels instinctively that the only vic- 
 tory lies in nonconformity. He must 
 adjust himself to these things that 
 come and go and have no base or 
 principle, but he must not be sub- 
 dued by them or lose his own clear 
 lines of chosen action. 
 
 17 
 
Cl^e free Life 
 
 The college man, particularly if, 
 while he studied, he has lived as we 
 live here, where the world is repro- 
 duced in small, with its comrade- 
 ships and rivalries and organiza- 
 tions, its social compulsions and its 
 voluntary efforts of individuals and 
 of societies, is entitled to think that 
 he can distinguish the permanent 
 from the ephemeral, determine what 
 he will ignore, what accept. He 
 should have learned that noncon- 
 formity is not antagonism; that he 
 is not undertaking the impossible 
 and ridiculous task of rebuking and 
 reconstructing a world established 
 and independent of him ; that what 
 he is attempting is what I may term 
 an influential nonconformity, which 
 adds a new item of force to the world, 
 — adds a man who thinks for him- 
 self, a man renewed by fresh contact 
 with the sources and originals of 
 thought and inspiration, and ready 
 to give the world just that occa- 
 i8 
 
Ci^e free life 
 
 sional thrill of reminder which keeps 
 the breath of progress and of re- 
 newal in its nostrils. The world 
 always responds to the impulse 
 when it finds an authentic man, 
 whom it cannot crush or ignore, who 
 speaks always words of his own, and 
 yet who flings no foolish defiance to 
 his generation, is ready for all gen- 
 erous cooperation, is an eager ser- 
 vant of his day and time, not its 
 opponent or critic of destruction, — 
 just a self-respecting, thoughtful, 
 unconquerable human spirit. 
 
 "Be not conformed to this world: but 
 be ye transformed by the renewing 
 of your mind." This transformation 
 is no apotheosis, it is no changing of 
 men into angels, no transmutation 
 of common flesh into stuff of immor- 
 tality. It is a transformation effect- 
 ed by the renewing of your minds, 
 a transformation of attitude and 
 motive, of purpose, of point of view. 
 It is the transformation effected in 
 
 19 
 
Ci^e free Hffe 
 
 i 
 
 the spirit itself by seeing the world 
 as a work of God, in its largeness 
 and entirety, contained in no single 
 generation, lasting, a thing of spirit, 
 from age to age, from friendship to 
 friendship, from love to love; knit 
 together of human beings, spirits 
 great and small, inspired and paltry, 
 lifted or debased by victory or defeat 
 in a continual struggle to see and 
 receive the truth; a mode of ener- 
 gy serene, augmenting, persistent. 
 Every great thought and principle 
 works its transformation upon the 
 spirits of those who receive it, and a 
 mind renewed is a mind transformed. 
 The university has been a place of 
 transformation for you, whether you 
 willed it to be or not : the question is 
 only in how great a degree you have 
 been transformed. You are not what 
 you were when you came here : you 
 cannot have escaped some wider 
 view of men and of truth and of cir- 
 cumstance and of nature than you 
 
 20 
 
Ci^e fvtt Life 
 
 had when you came here unformed 
 boys ; and for some of you the trans- 
 formation has been complete. You 
 neither think nor purpose as you did 
 before the processes of our teaching 
 and our Hfe wrought upon you ; and 
 now you are about to have occasion 
 to show how vital the process has 
 been. 
 
 The transformed university man, 
 whose thought and will have been 
 in fact renewed out of the sources 
 of knowledge and of love, is one 
 of the great dynamic forces of the 
 world. We live in an age disturbed, 
 confused, bewildered, afraid of its 
 own forces, in search not merely of 
 its road, but even of its direction. 
 There are many voices of counsel, 
 but few voices of vision; there is 
 much excitement and feverish activ- 
 ity, but little concert of thoughtful 
 purpose. We are distressed by our 
 own ungoverned, undirected ener- 
 gies and do many things, but no- 
 
 21 
 
Ci^e free Life 
 
 thing long. It is our duty to find our- 
 selves. It is our privilege to be calm 
 and know that the truth has not 
 changed, that old wisdom is more 
 to be desired than any new nostrum, 
 that we must neither run with the 
 crowd nor deride it, but seek sober 
 counsel for it and for ourselves. 
 Our true wisdom is in our ideals. 
 Practical judgments shift from age 
 to age, but principles abide; and 
 more stable even than principles are 
 the motives which simplify and en- 
 noble life. That, I suppose, is why 
 the image of Christ has grown, not 
 less, but more distinct in the con- 
 sciousness of the race since the tra- 
 gic day in which He died upon the 
 cross. How unlike in every external 
 circumstance was that day to our 
 own; how the world has changed 
 and shifted in every institution and 
 every circumstance since the day 
 when all men were provincials of 
 Rome; and yet there has been no 
 
 22 
 
Ci^e ^ree Life 
 
 age to which Christ did not seem to 
 belong as truly and intimately as 
 he belonged to the world in which 
 Palestine was property of imperial 
 Rome, and Joseph and Mary ob- 
 scure subjects of the Caesar. He is 
 the only permanent person of his- 
 tory, the only being who was of no 
 age because he was of all, the only 
 complete and unalterable epitome 
 of what man is and what man would 
 be, a creature of two worlds, the 
 world that changes and the world 
 that changes not, — the world where 
 spirit but struggles for recognition, 
 and the world in which spirit is re- 
 leased to know its own freedom and 
 perfection. How the task of renewal 
 and transformation is simplified for 
 us by his person and example, so 
 clear to our vision, so easy to be un- 
 derstood, so dear to every right in- 
 stinct in us, — our divine kinsman, to 
 whom our spirits yearn whenever 
 stirred by pain or hope! 
 
 23 
 
Ci^e fxtt Life 
 
 And if Christ is adjusted to all ages, 
 he is conformed to none: He is the 
 only true citizen of the world. There 
 is in him constant renewal, the fresh, 
 undying quality that draws always 
 direct from the sources of know- 
 ledge and of conduct. He interprets 
 — only He can perfectly interpret — 
 our text. His is the nonconformity 
 of the perfect individual, unsophis- 
 ticated, unstaled, unsubdued. His is 
 the perfect learning distilled into 
 wisdom, the perfect friendship lifted 
 to the utter heights of self-sacrifice, 
 the perfect sorrow steeped in hope, 
 which keep his mind and spirit naif, 
 spontaneous, creative, the cause, 
 not the result, of circumstance. Not 
 all the hoarded counsel of the world 
 is worth the example of a single per- 
 son: it is abstract, intangible until 
 incarnated; and here, incarnate, is 
 the man Christ who in his own life 
 and person shows us and all the 
 world "what is that good, and ac- 
 24 
 
Cl^e free Life 
 
 ceptable, and perfect, will of God" 
 which would have us see in the face 
 of all knowledge, of all love, of all 
 experience, the long lines of light 
 which illuminate the meaning of our 
 lives, — lines that blaze unbroken 
 out of the elder ages that have gone 
 and sweep past us into the mysteri- 
 ous days whither we go, from which, 
 one by one, we draw the veil away. 
 In an ancient place of learning we 
 stand where generations meet and 
 merge, where ages render their 
 common reckoning; and the teach- 
 ing of a university with regard to 
 the long processes of human life 
 should be the same as the Master's: 
 that every soul that is truly to live 
 must be born again, must come fresh 
 into its own age with the spirit of 
 immortality — which is the spirit of 
 eternal youth — upon it, the bright- 
 ness of another morning of creation 
 about it, the dayspring from on high. 
 "Be not conformed to this world: 
 
 25 
 
Ci^e free Itfe 
 
 but be ye transformed by the renew- 
 ing of your mind: that ye may prove 
 what is that good, and acceptable, 
 and perfect, will of God" which is 
 without date or age or end and which 
 gives to every one of us a like im- 
 mortal youth and liberty and power. 
 
 I have tried to give you in these 
 parting words, on this solemn day, 
 some glimpse of spiritual things. I 
 hope the words have not been too 
 mystical, too remote from the voca- 
 bulary of what we ordinarily think 
 and say. We have gone a happy 
 journey of four years together. Our 
 comradeship has not depended up- 
 on an actual personal acquaintance 
 with one another. Nothing happens 
 here that does not happen to all of us: 
 there is no current of our lives which 
 we do not all feel. We have had much 
 counsel together. Though you hand 
 your function of counsel on to-day to 
 those who are to succeed you, you 
 26 
 
Cl^e ifree Life 
 
 must know that you will leave much 
 behind you that is your permanent 
 contribution of love to the growth 
 and wholesomeness of the place. ^ 
 And you can never be spiritually 
 severed from your Alma Mater. 
 Some part of her will always live in 
 you. 
 
 And it is just that fact which I wish 
 might be interpreted to you and, 
 through you, to all the world. This 
 place is but a material image that 
 changes from age to age: the real 
 university is a spirit which goes with 
 you, as it stays with us, — the spirit 
 of learning, which is always young 
 and which does not conform to this 
 world ; the spirit of friendship, which 
 unlocks the secret of loyalty and of 
 self-sacrifice ; the spirit which seeks 
 intimate contact with the springs of 
 motive, and which lifts us into the 
 presence of Christ. 
 
 It is a solemn thing to look one 
 another for the last time in the eyes, 
 
 27 
 
Ci^e free U(t 
 
 to grasp hands and say farewell; but 
 we do not in fact break company if 
 we have indeed been linked in spirit. 
 Be brave; walk with open and 
 uplifted eyes; let neither hardship 
 nor sorrow touch you with dismay. 
 Nothing but our own weakness can 
 taint the integrity of manly candour 
 and simple uprightness. God send 
 you stout hearts in all weather. Our 
 love and our faith shall follow you. 
 We pledge you with all good cheer 
 for the long journey, and pray God 
 we shall all meet at home at its end. 
 
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