WITHOUT AXE OR HAMMER.
"Souls are built as temples are,--
Based on truth's eternal law,
Sure and steadfast, without flaw,
Through the sunshine, through the snows,
Up and on the building goes;
Every fair thing finds its place,
Every hard thing lends a grace,
Every hand may make or mar."
We read of the temple of Solomon, when it was in building, that it was
built of stone made ready in the quarry, so that neither hammer nor axe
nor any tool of iron was heard in the house while it went up.
"No workman's steel, no ponderous axes rung;
Like some tall palm, the noiseless fabric sprung."
So it is that the great work of spiritual temple-building goes on
continually in this world. We are all really silent builders. The
kingdom of God cometh not with observation. The divine Spirit works in
silence, changing men's hearts, transforming lives, comforting sorrow,
kindling hope in darkened bosoms, washing scarlet souls white as snow.
The preacher may speak with the voice of a Boanerges, but the power
that reaches hearts is not the preacher's noise; silently the divine
voice whispers in the soul its secret of conviction, or of hope, or of
strength. The Lord is not in the storm, in the earthquake, in the
fire, but in the sound of gentleness, the spirit's whisper, that
breathes through the soul.
Perhaps the best work any of us do in this world is that which we do
without noise. Words give forth sound, but it is not the sounds that
do good, that brighten sad faces as people listen, that change tears to
laughter, that stimulate hope, that put courage into fainting
hearts,--it is not the noise of our words, but the thoughts which the
words carry. Words are but the chattering messengers that bear the
sealed messages; and it is the messages that help and comfort. We may
make noise as we work, but it is not our noise that builds up what we
leave in beauty behind us. It is life that builds, and life is silent.
The force that works in our homes is a silent force,--mother-love,
father-love, patience, gentleness, prayer, truth, the influences of
divine grace.
It is the same in the building up of personal character in each of us.
There may be a great deal of noise all about us, but it is in silence
that we grow from a thousand sources come the little blocks that are
laid upon the walls,--the lessons we get from others, the influences
friends exert upon us, the truths our reading puts into our minds, the
impressions life leaves upon us, the inspirations we receive from the
divine Spirit--ever the builders are at work on these characters of
ours, but they work silently, without noise of hammer or axe.
There is another suggestion. Down in the dark quarries, under the
city, the men wrought, cutting, hewing, polishing, the stones. They
hung their little lamps on the walls, and with their hammers and
chisels they hewed away at the great blocks. Months and years passed;
then one day there was a grand dedication, and there in the glorious
sunshine all the secret, obscure work of those years was seen in its
final beauty, amid the joy of a nation. If the men who had wrought in
the quarries were present that day, what a joy it must have been to
them to think of their work in preparing the great stones for their
place in the magnificent building!
Here is a parable. This world is the quarry. We are toiling away in
the darkness. We cannot see what good is ever to come out of our
lonely, painful, obscure toil. Yet some day our quarry-work will be
manifested in the glory of heaven. We are preparing materials now and
here for the temple of the great King, which in heaven is slowly rising
through the ages. No noise of hammer or axe is heard in all that
wondrous building, because the stones are all shaped and polished and
made entirely ready in this world.
We are the stones, and the world is God's quarry. The stones for the
temple were cut out of the great rock in the dark underground cavern.
They were rough and shapeless. Then they were dressed into form, and
this required a great deal of cutting, hammering, and chiselling.
Without this stern, sore work on the stones, not one of them could ever
have filled a place in the temple. At last when they were ready they
were lifted out of the dark quarry and carried up to the mountain-top,
where the temple was rising, and were laid in their place.
We are stones in the quarry as yet. When we accepted Christ we were
cut from the great mass of rock. But we were yet rough and unshapely;
not fit for heaven. Before we can be ready for our place in the
heavenly temple we must be hewn and shaped. The hammer must do its
work, breaking off the roughnesses. The chisel must be used, carving
and polishing our lives into beauty. This work is done in the many
processes of life. Every sinful thing, every fault in our character,
is a rough place in the stone, which must be chiselled off. All the
crooked lines must be straightened. Our lives must be cut and hewn
until they conform to the perfect standard of divine truth.
Quarry-work is not always pleasant. If stones had hearts and
sensibilities, they would sometimes cry out in sore pain as they feel
the hammer strokes and the deep cutting of the chisel. Yet the workman
must not heed their cries and withdraw his hand, else they would at
last be thrown aside as worthless blocks, never to be built into the
place of honor.
We are not stones; we have hearts and sensibilities, and we do cry out
ofttimes as the hammer smites away the roughnesses in our character.
But we must yield to the sore work and let it go on, or we shall never
have our place as living stones in Christ's beautiful temple. We must
not wince under the sharp chiselling of sorrow. Says Dr. T. T.
Munger:--
"When God afflicts thee, think he hews a rugged stone
Which must be shaped, or else aside as useless thrown."
There is still another suggestion from this singular temple-building.
Every individual life has its quarries where are shaped the blocks
which afterward are built into character, or which take form in acts.
Schools are the quarries, where, through years of patient study, the
materials for life are prepared, the mind is disciplined, habits are
formed, knowledge is gained, and power is stored. Later, in active
life, the temple rises without noise of hammer or axe. Homes are
quarries where children are trained, where moral truth is lodged in the
heart, where the elements of character are hewn out like fair stones,
to appear in the life in after days, when it grows up among men.
Then there are the thought-quarries back of what people see in every
human life. Men must be silent thinkers before their words or deeds
can have either great beauty or power. Extemporaneousness anywhere is
of small value. Glib, easy talkers, who are always ready to speak on
any subject, who require no time for preparation, may go on chattering,
forever, but their talk is only chatter. The words that are worth
hearing come out of thought-quarries where they have been wrought
ofttimes in struggle and anguish. Father Ryan, in one of the most
exquisite of his poems, writes of the "valley of silence" where he
prepares the songs he afterwards sings:--
"In the hush of the valley of silence
I dream all the songs that I sing;
And the music floats down the dim valley
'Till each finds a word for awing,
That to hearts, like the dove of the deluge,
A message of peace they may bring."
So it is of all great thoughts. Thinkers brood long in the silence and
then come forth and their eloquence sways us. So it is with art. We
look at a fine picture and our hearts are warmed by its wondrous
beauty. But do we know the story of the picture? Years and years of
thought and of tireless toil lie back of its enrapturing beauty. Or
here is a book which charms you, which thrills and inspires you. Great
thoughts lie on its pages. Do you know the book's story? The author
lived, struggled, toiled, suffered, wept, that he might write the words
which now help you. Back of every good life-thought which blesses men,
lies a dark quarry where the thought was born and shaped into the
beauty of form which makes it a blessing to the world.
Or here is a noble and beautiful character. Goodness appears natural
to it. It seems easy for the man to be noble and to do noble things.
But again the quarry is back of the temple. Each one's heart is the
quarry out of which comes all that the person builds into his life.
"As he thinketh in his heart so is he." Everything that appears in our
lives comes out of our hearts. All our acts are first thoughts. The
artist's picture, the poet's poem, the singer's song, the architect's
building, are thoughts before they are wrought out into forms of
beauty. All dispositions, tempers, feelings, words, and acts start in
the heart. If the workmen had quarried faulty stones in the caverns,
the temple would have been spoiled. An evil heart, with stained
thoughts, impure imaginings, blurred feelings, can never build up a
fair and lovely character.
We need to guard our heart-quarry with all diligence, since out of it
are the issues of life. The thoughts build the life and make the
character. White thoughts rear up a beautiful fabric before God and
man. Soiled thoughts pile up a stained life, without beauty or honor.
We should look well, therefore, to our heart-quarry, where the work
goes on in the darkness without ceasing. If all be right there we need
give little concern to the building of character. Diligent
heart-keeping yields a life unspotted from the world.
A little child had been reading the beatitudes, and was asked which of
the qualities named in them she most desired. "I would rather be pure
in heart," she said. When asked the reason for her choice, she
answered: "If I could but have a pure heart, I should then possess all
the other qualities of the beatitudes in the one." The child was
right. A pure heart will build a beautiful life, a fit temple for
Christ. Thinking over God's holy thoughts after him will make us like
God. Thinking habitually about Christ, Christ's beauty will come into
our souls and shine in our faces.