"One self-approving hour whole years outweighs Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas."It is true.There is more life in one "self-approving hour,"-one act of benevolence,-- one work of self-discipline,--than in threescore years and ten of mere sensual existence.Go out among the homes of the poor, lift up the disconsolate, administer comfort to the forlorn; in some way, as it may come across your path, or lie in the sphere of your duty, do a deed of kindness; and in that one act you shall live more than in a year of selfish indulgence and indolent ease,--yea, more than in a lifetime of such.The poet, with his burning, immortal lines, while doing his work, lives all the coming ages of his fame.From every marble feature he chisels, the sculptor draws an intensity of being that cannot be imparted by a mere extension of years.The philanthropist, in his walks of mercy and his ministrations of love, lives more comprehensively than another may in a century.His is the fathomless bliss of benevolence,--the experience of God.The martyr, in his dying hour, with his face shining like an angel's, does not live longer, but he lives more than all his persecutors.
Consider, too, the experiences of religion, of worship, of prayer.In the act of communion with God, in the realization of immortality, in the aspirations and the idea of perfection, there is a depth and scope of being from which all sensual estimates of time drop away.
Our mortal life, then, is very comprehensive.If we measure it, not by its length of years, but by its spiritual results, be they good or evil, it is a full and large life.It then appears, like the immortal state, not as a fact of succession, but of experience.Christ has defined eternal life as such a fact."Eternal life," he says, "is to know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent." The life of the blessed in heaven is not marked by years and cycles; it is not so much protracted being, as a power of knowledge,--a depth of glad and holy consciousness,--a constant pulsation of harmony with God.
Again, every life may be compared to "a tale that is told,"because it has a plot.In the narrative there is a combination of agencies working to a crisis.There is a main-point with which all the action is involved.And so every human life has its main-point..I will not now take up time to carry out this illustration minutely.The mere suggestion that each one is working out a peculiar destiny invests even the meanest life with a solemn dignity, and counteracts any disparaging argument drawn from its brevity.
But still I would urge, that the propriety of this comparison between the peculiar tendency of an individual life and the plot of a story, is seen in the fact that every man is accomplishing a certain moral result in and for himself.
This is inevitable.We may be inactive, but that result is forming; the mould of habit is growing, and the inward life is unfolding itself, after its kind.We may think our career is aimless, but all things give a shape to our character.
And does not this consideration make our mortal life of deep consequence to us?
All circumstances and experiences are chiefly important as affecting this result.One of the highest views we can take of the universe is that of a theatre for the soul's education.We are placed upon this earth not to be absorbed by it, but to use it for the highest spiritual occasions.We are placed among the joys and sorrows of our daily lives to be trained for immortal issues.Our business, our domestic duties, and all our various relations, constitute a school for our souls.Here our affections and our powers are acted upon for good or for evil.Grief strengthens our faith and elevates our thoughts; joy quickens our gratitude, our obedience, and our trust; temptation forms in us an exalted and spontaneous virtue, or enfeebles and enslaves us.
Chiefly, then, should we be solicitous about character, the plot of our life; and in this solicitude our earthly existence rises to the highest importance.
Let us, then, feel that our mortal career is not vague and aimless.Let us realize that each life is a special history.
The poorest, the most obscure, has such a history; and although it may be unnoticed by men, angels regard it with interest.The merchant, every day, in the dust, and heat, and busy maze of traffic, unfolds a history.The beggar by the way-side, it may be, outrivals kings in the grandeur and magnitude of his history.In sainted homes,--in narrow nooks of life,--in the secret heart of love, and prayer, and patience,--many a tale is told which God alone sees, and which he approves.The needy tell a tale, in their unrelieved wants and unpitied sufferings.The oppressed tell a tale, that goes up into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth.
The vicious tell a tale of wo, and misspent opportunity, and wasted power.Let us think of it, I beseech you! Each one of us in his sphere of action is developing a plot which surely tells in character,--which is fast running into a great fixed fact.
Once more, we may compare every life to "a tale that is told," because it has a moral.Any story, good or bad,--the most pernicious work of fiction, the most flimsy narrative, as the grandest history,--has its significance.So it is with the life of a man.As all his conduct he is building up the intrinsic results of character for himself,--establishing in his own soul a fabric of welfare or of wo,--so is he furnishing a lesson for others, and accomplishing an end by which they are affected.The purpose for which any one has lived, the point which he has attained, the personal history which he has unfolded, constitute the moral of his life.
For instance, here is a man whose life is frivolous,--divided between aimless cares and superficial enjoyments.He has no resources in himself, no fountain of inward peace and joy.
