THE NEW LIFE
The chief regret now in this young man's mind was the loss of two college
years. Bishop Albertson greatly desired his return to the Monastery to
take up and finish his collegiate course, and receive his diploma from
that institution. But the father seriously objected, because this would
necessitate his absence again from home. After much discussion and
correspondence, the two bishops concluded to leave its decision to the
young man himself. As soon as Eleen learned this her woman's sagacity
told her what the decision would be. She had her brother's confidence,
young as she was, and he had shown her Alice's photograph. She was
correct in her conclusions. It was not many days before he made known his
determination to return to the Monastery and finish his studies. This
would only take two years.
Edward McLaren now felt how irksome this change of name would be among
his friends at the Monastery, for there he was known only as "Carl." But
this must be met honestly, so he returned at once to his true name in all
his correspondence. Edward's expected return to the Monastery was hailed
with delight by all. Two great loves welcomed him: first, Alice, of
course, knowing how much she had done in his decision to return to
America, and that but for his love for her he probably would not have
returned, gave to him her implicit confidence and all the wealth of
affection contained in her womanly heart. Then Tom, who had been bereaved
sorely for four months, was in rapture; he, however, could not tolerate
any name but the old one, "Carl." Nor was Bishop Albertson far behind
these two in his expressions of affection and confidence. All matters of
business, of a secular character, were placed in Edward's hands and his
judgment was seldom overruled. But, finally, on account of his studies,
Edward had to give these up. So with great reluctance he resigned his
office as secretary. This was greatly regretted by the bishop, but he
could not conscientiously oppose it. But at the suggestion of the
retiring secretary Alice was appointed to fill the vacant place, with the
promise that Edward, when possible, would render her his assistance. And
thus the collegiate year commenced. The number of students matriculated
was larger than ever before.
Edward again assumed charge of the organ and was recognized as music
director of Monastery University and church. Tom, too, was entered in
the last year of the preparatory department. Edward and he still
occupied the room at the farm known as Carl and Tom's room. This was a
great help to the boy, as they had set apart three hours each evening for
their respective studies, and the elder student rendered Tom much
assistance.
At the close of the year Tom passed out of the preparatory department and
was admitted into the classical course, and Edward McLaren entered upon
his senior year. Edward was likewise recommended as a licentiate for the
ministry. But the committee ordered that before this should be fully
granted the old custom should be observed and he should preach a "trial
sermon," and the date was set for that occasion. If possible, this
occasion was of more importance to Tom than to Edward. He was continually
referring to it and hoping that it might be a great success. The
committee had appointed Sunday afternoon as the time, and the service was
announced throughout a wide territory.
The day for the sermon was clear and beautiful. The bishop and faculty
were surprised at the amount of interest shown. Many persons remained
after the morning service, having brought their luncheons with them, and,
as the appointed hour, three o'clock, approached, it was seen that the
college chapel would not contain the great crowd, and it was concluded
that the service must be held in the auditorium of the church. The large
audience room was filled to its utmost capacity. It was truly an ordeal
for the young man to pass through. Tom was the most nervous person in the
twelve hundred present. "Will my Carl stand the test?" asked Tom of
himself. But of course he would. Two young clergymen had charge of the
opening exercises. Alice presided at the organ, and a full choir rendered
the music, doing justice to the hour and the service.
The young preacher was pale and somewhat nervous when he arose to
announce his text. At first he could scarce be heard ten yards away;
but he quickly corrected the fault and went on with fuller confidence
and courage.
He spoke from Psalm 119. 59: "I thought on my ways, and turned my feet
unto thy testimonies."
"Thinking is royal," he said. "Thought is king. Everything of beauty or
usefulness is the child of thought. Here is the distinction between man
and the brute. Here is the cause of difference between the savant and the
savage. And here is the difference between men. Some think; others do
not. And what fields for thought are spread out before the human mind!
For instance, nations and cities once great and influential are now
blotted out. Babylon, Rome, Palmyra, Jerusalem. What destroyed them?
They refused to acknowledge God, and he left them to perish. Ah! They
forsook God and he left them.
"Again. Notice the nations that have come up out of barbaric obscurity to
become the world power today--England, Germany, the United States. What
has thus lifted them to their peerless position? They acknowledge God to
be their God and King of all kings and all nations. Surely, then, this is
a nation's palladium, just as it is the individual standard of character.
Emmanuel--God with us.
"And to think of ourselves is truly ennobling. I do not mean as the
egotist thinks. But to think of our individual capacity and obligations.
The Greeks had a motto over their temple at Delphi, it was 'Know
Thyself.' To know ourselves is the beginning of wisdom. Young men, learn
to know yourselves and your responsibility; but none of these is the
subject of David's thought.
"'_I thought on my ways_.' Our ways toward God. We have not treated
anyone as we have treated God. We have shut him out of our homes, lives,
hearts, while he stood at the door knocking; while he cried, 'Behold I
stand at the door and knock.' Men live through years without thinking of
God, until illness or affliction comes, then they call upon him for help.
Ah! It is indeed humiliating to think of our ways toward our dearest
Friend, who loves us and gave himself for us. It is wise and should,
also, be profitable to think of our ways toward our fellow-men. We have
not always treated them as directed by God's Word. How selfishness has
inspired our conduct toward them in many instances! Who of us today can
look back and see ourselves ever doing to others as we would have them do
unto us? Who of us can say, 'I have always loved my neighbor as myself'?
"Well might this be the cry of David's repentant heart. He thought of a
brave and honest soldier, whose wife he coveted, and in order to possess
her he ordered the soldier to be placed in the most dangerous place in
the battle, where he was slain. First, murder; next, adultery. Well might
David's soul cry out, 'I thought on my ways.' It is not likely that I am
at this time speaking to anyone who would be guilty of such gross sins as
here cited, but you, citizens of this fair commonwealth, nevertheless,
can well afford to consider your ways toward your fellow-men, remembering
that no man has come to the full stature of Christian manhood who does
not love his neighbor as himself.
"Now, in conclusion. Your thinking brings results: David turned his feet
unto the testimonies of the Lord. Thought, if worthy of the name, prompts
a man to do something or to leave off doing something." With strength
and effectiveness the young preacher dwelt upon the latter part of the
text, and closed with a warning against procrastination, declaring it
senseless, dangerous, and, in many cases, cruel.
The doxology was sung and the people began to disperse, though many of
those present pressed toward the chancel to congratulate the young
preacher. The bishop, too, was generous in his words of praise, "The Lord
thinks kindly of you, my son," he said, warmly, "or you could not have
preached that good sermon. God bless you."
That evening and for several days afterward Tom was exultant. In his
estimation no man had ever preached such a sermon in the Monastery church
at the opening service, not even Bishop McLaren himself.
"Mother," cried the lad, as he returned to the farmhouse, "don't you
think that my Carl preached better than his father?"
"I don't know about that, my boy," was her reply, "but I know that he
preached a noble and practical sermon today. Yes," she added, "I think it
was remarkable as a first attempt."