The sunset is the sheaf of the day’s activities, wherein are bound all
the roses and poppies and fruits and grains of the passing hours, for
the experiences of life are constantly coming to full harvest. Weary
with toil and worn with watching, we do not see the riches of to-day;
or, stirred by some new ambition, our eyes become so fixed upon the
future, that to-day’s golden grain is trampled under foot and lost.
Instead of facing the morrow’s morn, rich with garnered treasures,
we greet it with empty hands. We are not householders seeking
strong-walled dwellings and broad, extending acres, but are careless,
nomadic folk, wandering aimlessly from day to day, as gypsies wander
from town to town. Having all things within our grasp, we possess
nothing. When touched by the hand of Death, and taken out of life, the
world is no more disturbed than by the bursting of a bubble on the
ocean wave.
Sunsets are sheaves, and the brilliancy of their coloring is God’s
way of calling our attention to their value. The waving of so many
golden and scarlet banners, by a myriad of unseen hands, should awaken
the most careless soul to the consciousness that something mighty is
transpiring. Such banners and pageantry passing through our streets
would awaken the entire city to wonderment and concern. For what king
are the banners waving? For what worthy cause are all these ensigns
thrown upon the wind? What victory is celebrated here? Yet the sunsets
pass unheeded, and the golden sheaf of another day is trampled under
careless feet, and left to mildew and decay.
The art of gathering sunsets, the grasping of each day’s experiences
with firm and constant hold, is one to covet. Days are not something to
“pass through.” Each day is like unto an acre of land, through which
one may hurry, as in a train, without thought of right or ownership; or
unto an acre of land which he holds in perpetual ownership, adding that
much to his estate, and increasing his income through all the days that
follow. Rather, it is a sheaf of grain, supplying food and affording
strength for an ever-increasing work which he may throw away, or keep
for future use. Sunset time is harvest time, and the evening hour is
the one in which to fill full the granaries and treasure chests for
days unborn. Sunsets should be bound with the golden cords of memory
and kept forever.
The pathway of life grows brightest for those who have wasted fewest
of their yesterdays. Hours well spent and safely garnered never lose
the brightness of their sunshine. It always glows in the sparkle of
the eye, in the brightness of a winning smile, in the warm atmosphere
of helpfulness with which they are surrounded. Hours spent in sin and
dissipation have no luster to cast upon the afterdays, but goodness
is always luminous. Hours of right-living may be likened to blazing
suns that never cease to glow. The ability to retain their brightness
means an ever-increasing splendor of life. It is this that the inspired
writer must have had in mind when he wrote that the pathway of the just
is as a shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.
The secret of perfection along any line of endeavor is the gathering
in and retaining the good, at the same time sorting out and
permanently eliminating that which is bad. It is a work of patience
and progression. It requires the fruitage of many days, the garnered
glories of many sunsets, to endow one with the riches of genius; and
not one single day should be lost. The lapidist, whose magic touch
changes pebbles into glittering jewels to adorn the neck of beauty; the
sculptor, whose mallet-stroke is so accurate that rough, ill-shapen
stones become forms of grace to inspire the generations; the
artist, whose brush quickens the common dust and clay into marvelous
paintings of unfading color and undying sentiment; the botanist, whose
carefulness transforms barren waysides into gardens, and the desert
places into banqueting halls; the metallurgist, whose powerful hand
takes the knotted lumps of ore and fashions them into the bronze doors
of a great cathedral--all these represent that priceless frugality that
will not permit a sunset to escape. Their first crude efforts were
sheaves of rich experiences, which they garnered and stored away in the
treasure chests of memory. They had the bright light of their first
sunsets to add to the morning light of their second endeavors. They
continued to store the brightness of the passing experiences. Day by
day the light grew brighter, until at last there came the perfect day,
when the whole world stood amazed at the perfection of their handiwork.
The loss of one sunset would have faded the light and dimmed the glory
of their final achievement. All perfect art is but gathered sunsets.
This law holds in the matter of spiritual perfection. God does much for
us at conversion, when, through faith in him, we are changed by his
grace into new men and new women. It is like a lost planet finding its
central sun, and resuming its accustomed place, and finding light, and
warmth, and life, and joy again. Wonderful indeed is the power of God
as manifested in the conversion of any individual, but conversion is
not perfection. Perfection is something that the inspired writer urges
us “to go unto.” “And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your
faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge temperance; and
to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; and to godliness
brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity.”
Do not permit the colors of triumph to fade from your first day’s sky.
Hold on to that sunset. Each day will furnish its added beam of light.
Faith, hope, and love, and all the Christian graces will become more
beautiful for you, to you, and in you. The pathway will become brighter
and brighter. Life will have fewer shadows because the light falls upon
you from so many angles and becomes more perfectly diffused. To-morrow
can have no hindering uncertainties, for the light of the past
experiences illumines the future. There is light for every darkened
corner, and one may rejoice that all things are working together for
good, because we do love God. Gathered sunsets make life’s trail ablaze
with light.
Let no to-day become yesterday, except in the calendar, as we reckon
time. Each day must become part of us as we live in an ever-present
now. The same alphabet we learned in childhood is ours to-day. Because
we did not forget it with the setting of the sun, it served us to-day
as we spell out, in polysyllables, a newly discovered truth. The
alphabet did not fade with the death of the day we learned it, so that
it is now part of our lives. As we cannot think apart from the words
we learned long ago; and as we cannot calculate, save as we use the
first-learned characters from one to ten; so, in the developing of the
soul, we must not lose one single hour of prayer or inspiration of a
noble purpose.
Both building and growing are alike in this--they are processes of
“adding to.” Brick added to brick and timber added to timber means a
stately building. Cell added to cell means growth of body and increase
in stature. But handling brick is not enough, they must be placed with
a purpose and kept firmly fixed in the place desired. The brick of
yesterday must be where it can have added to it the brick of to-day.
Physical growth depends upon the keeping the cells of yesterday for a
foundation upon which to build the cells of to-day. Christian living is
similar. We build a character and grow a soul but the process is the
same, with both character and soul. We gain by adding to. Therefore
we must not permit any of our sunsets to fade away. All that we have
gained through prayer and Christian service must be held to brighten
each new morn. The spiritual victory over temptation, the answer to
our intercessory prayers, the moment of spiritual illumination as we
read the Bible, all these are priceless experiences upon which to add
the newer conquests of to-day. We must not permit the disease of sin
to sap our vitality and destroy the growth of yesterday. We must guard
our spiritual health that we may grow. This is what Christ meant when
he said: “Men ought always to pray.” The culture of the soul is an
eternal process. Days must not pass; they must remain as part of our
own selves.