valleys are worn down by water, or that the stars are suns. No man was
paid to burn at the stake or die on the cross that other men might be
free to live. The sane, strong, brave, heroic souls of all ages were
the men who, in the natural order of things, have lived above all
considerations of pay or glory. They have served not as slaves hoping
for reward, but as gods who would take no reward. Men could not reward
Shakespeare, or Darwin, or Newton, or Helmholtz for their services any
more than we could pay the Lord for the use of His sunshine. From the
same inexhaustible divine reservoir it all comes--the service of the
great man and the sunshine of God.
"Twice have I molded an image,
And thrice outstretched my hand;
Made one of day and one of night,
And one of the salt sea strand
One in a Judean manger,
And one by Avon's stream;
One over against the mouths of Nile,
And one in the Academe."
And in such image are men made every day, not only in Bethlehem or in
Stratford, not alone on the banks of the Nile or the Arno; but on the
Columbia, or the Sacramento, or the San Francisquito, it may be, as
well. All over the earth, in this image, are the sane, and the sound,
and the true. And when and where their lives are spent arises
generations of others like them, men in the true order. Not alone men
in the "image of God," but "gods in the likeness of men."
It is to the training of the genuine man that the universities of the
world are devoted. They call for the higher sacrifice, the sacrifice
of those who have powers not needed in the common struggle of life, and
who have, therefore, something over and beyond this struggle to give to
their fellows. Large or small, whatever the gift may be, the world
needs it all, and to every good gift the world will respond a
thousand-fold. Strength begets strength, and wisdom leads to wisdom.
"There is always room for the man of force, and he makes room for
many." It is the strong, wise, and good of the past who have made our
lives possible. It is the great human men, the "men in the natural
order," that have made it possible for "the plain, common men," that
make up civilization, to live, rather than merely to vegetate.
We hear those among us sometimes who complain of the shortness of life,
the smallness of truth, the limited stage on which man is forced to
act. But the men who thus complain are not men who have filled this
little stage with their action. The man who has learned to serve the
Lord never complains that his Master does not give him enough to do.
The man who helps his fellow-men does not stand about with idle hands
to find men worthy of his assistance. He who leads a worthy life never
vexes himself with the question as to whether life is worth living.
We know that all our powers are products of the needs and duties of our
ancestors. Wisdom too great to be translated into action is an
absurdity. For wisdom is only knowing what it is best to do next.
Virtue is only doing it. Virtue and happiness have never been far
apart from each other. To know and to do is the essence of the highest
service. Those the world has a right to honor are those who found
enough in the world to do. The fields are always white to their
harvest.
Alexander the Great had conquered his neighbors in Greece and Asia
Minor, the only world he knew. Then he sighed for more worlds to
conquer. But other worlds he knew nothing of lay all about him. The
secrets of the rocks he had never suspected. Steam, electricity, the
growth of trees, the fall of snow,--all these were mysteries to him.
The only conquest he knew, the subjection of men's bodies, went but a
little way. All the men who in his lifetime knew the name of Alexander
the Great could find encampment on the Palo Alto farm. The great world
of men in his day was beyond his knowledge. His world was a very small
one, and of this he had seen but a little corner.
For the need of more worlds to conquer is no badge of strength. It is
the stamp of ignorance. It is the cry only of him who knows that the
great earth about him still stands unconquered. No Lincoln ever sighed
for more nations to save; no Luther for more churches to purify; no
Darwin that nature had not more hidden secrets which he might follow to
their depths; no Agassiz that the thoughts of God were all exhausted
before he was born.
And now, a final word to you as scholars: Higher education means the
higher sacrifice. That you are taught to know is simply that you may
do. Knowing the truth signifies that you should do right. Knowing and
doing have value only as translated into justice and love. There is no
man so strong as not to need your help. There is no man so weak that
you cannot make him stronger. There is none so sick that you cannot
bring him to the "gate called Beautiful." There is no evil in the
world that you cannot help turn to goodness. "We could lift up this
land," said Björnson of Norway, "we could lift up this land, if we
lifted as one."
Therefore lift, and lift as one. You are strong enough and wise
enough. You shall seek strength and wisdom, that others through you
may be wiser and stronger. You shall seek your place to work as your
basis for helpfulness. Others will make the place as good as you
deserve. If your lives are sacrificed in helping men, it is to the
market of the ages you carry your blood, not to the milk-market of
Concord town. The honest man will not "pledge himself in Germany to
teach nothing which is not true." Being true himself, he can teach
nothing false. The more men of the true order there are in the world,
the greater is the world's need of men.
As you are men, so will your places in life be secure. Every
profession is calling you. Every walk of life is waiting for your
effort. There will always be room for you, and each of you will make
room for many.
[1] Address to the Graduating Class, Leland Stanford Jr. University,
May 21, 1896.
THE BUBBLES OF SÁKI.
In sad, sweet cadence Persian Omar sings
The life of man that lasts but for a day;
A phantom caravan that hastes away,
On to the chaos of insensate things.
"The Eternal Sáki from that bowl hath poured
Millions of bubbles like us and shall pour,"
Thy life or mine, a half-unspoken word,
A fleck of foam tossed on an unknown shore.
"When thou and I behind the veil are past,
Oh, but the long, long while the world shall last?
Which of our coming and departure heeds,
As the seven seas shall heed a pebble cast."
"Then, my beloved, fill the cup that clears
To-day of past regrets and future fears."
This is the only wisdom man can know,
"I come like water, and like wind I go."
But tell me, Omar, hast thou said the whole?
If such the bubbles that fill Sáki's bowl,
How great is Sáki, whose least whisper calls
Forth from the swirling mists a human soul!
Omar, one word of thine is but a breath,
A single cadence in thy perfect song;
And as its measures softly flow along,
A million cadences pass on to death.
Shall this one word withdraw itself in scorn,
Because 't is not thy first, nor last, nor all--
Because 't is not the sole breath thou hast drawn,
Nor yet the sweetest from thy lips let fall?
I do rejoice that when "of Me and Thee"
Men talk no longer, yet not less, but more,
The Eternal Sáki still that bowl shall fill,
And ever stronger, purer bubbles pour.
One little note in the Eternal Song,
The Perfect Singer hath made place for me;
And not one atom in earth's wondrous throng
But shall be needful to Infinity.