In popular and condensed form, the golden rule according to Ecclesiastes
is, "Do it well and do it now." His own words are, "Whatsoever thy hand
findeth to do, do it with thy might, for there is no work nor device nor
knowledge nor wisdom in the grave whither thou goest." We want to let
that precept soak into our minds for a little.
DO IT WELL. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might."
Among the lesser joys of life there are few that thrill one with a more
pleasurable sense of satisfaction than that which goes with the bit of
work finished, rounded-off and done as well as one can do it. No matter
what the job may be, if it is worth doing at all, or if it is one's
business to do it, it is not difficult to recognise in the curious
inward glow over its honourable completion, a token of God's good
pleasure, some far-off echo of His "Well done!"
It is a truism which never loses its point that it is enthusiasm that
commands success. In her weird book called "Dreams," Olive Schreiner
tells the parable of an artist who painted a beautiful picture. On it
there was a wonderful glow which drew the admiration of all his
compeers, but which none could imitate. The other painters said, Where
did he get his colours? But though they sought rich and rare pigments
in far-off Eastern lands they could not catch the secret of it. One day
the artist was found dead beside his picture, and when they stripped him
for his shroud they found a wound beneath his heart. Then it dawned
upon them where he had got his colour. He had painted his picture with
his own heart's blood! It is the only way to paint it, if the picture
is to be worth while at all. If we would have the work that we do live
and count, our heart's blood must go into it. Whatsoever thy hand
findeth to do, do it with thy might.
What magnificent heart-stirring examples are coming to us every day just
now, from sea and battle-field, of the good old British virtue of
sticking in gamely to the end and "seeing the thing through!" If the
stories of the old English Admirals are calculated, as Stevenson says,
to "send bank clerks back with more heart and spirit to their
book-keeping by double entry," shall not the story that unfolds day by
day of what our own kith and kin are doing, nerve and inspire us all to
"do OUR bit," to face up to OUR duty, humdrum and ordinary though it be,
with the same grit and energy, with the same determination to see it
through, and make as good a job of it as we can?
The Preacher has his reason for this advice. Because, he says, some day
you will have to stop and lay down your tools, and that will be the end.
No more touching botched work after that. No going back to lift dropped
stitches then. Such as it is, your record will have to stand as you
leave it, when Death raps at your door. Even for us in this Christian
age, this ancient Preacher's reason still stands valid and solemn. Do
what you are at now as well as ever you can, for you shall pass that way
no more again for ever.
The Apostle Paul, who expresses practically the same sentiment, gives a
different reason. "Whatever ye do," he writes to the Colossians, "do it
heartily as to the Lord." And that is the point for you and me. Not
merely because we have a limited time to work, but because our work is
Christ's service, we must do it heartily, with all our might. It is to
the Lord. To us all in our different labours, in the things we work at
day by day, and the worthy interests we endeavour to support, there
comes this call that transforms the very commonest duty into an
honourable obligation to a personal living Master--Whatever ye do, do it
heartily as to the Lord.
Yes, and DO IT NOW. For the amount of misery and suffering and remorse
that is directly due to putting off the God-given impulse or generous
purpose to some other season, is simply incalculable. If all the kind
letters had been written when the thought of writing was fresh and
insistent--ah me, how many burdened souls would have been the braver and
the stronger. If only the friendly visit had been paid when we thought
about it--and why wasn't it? "Never suppose," says Bagshot, "that you
can make up to a neglected friend by going to visit him in a hospital.
Repent on your own death-bed, if you like, but not on another's."
An old writer on agriculture says that there are seasons when if the
husbandman misses a day he falls a whole year behind. But in life the
result is often more serious still. When you miss the day, you miss it
for ever. Wherefore, let us hear the words of the Preacher. If we have
a kind purpose in our heart towards any living soul, let us do it now.
If we think of beginning a better way of living, let us begin now. If
we propose to end our days sworn and surrendered servants and soldiers
of the Lord Jesus Christ, let us volunteer now, for this is the day of
salvation.
It is said that a great English moralist had engraved on his watch the
words, "The night cometh," so that whenever he looked at the time he
might be reminded of the preciousness of the passing moment. The night
cometh. How far away it may be, or how near to any one of us, no one of
us knows. But near or far it cometh with unhalting step. Wherefore,
whatsoever the thing be that is in your heart to do, great or little,
for yourself or for others, for man or for God--DO IT NOW!