is the source of the purest and most lasting enjoyment; it secures for
us the esteem and confidence of our fellow-men; it increases the power
and enlarges the sphere of our usefulness; it has the most direct and
happy bearing on our success in life; it stands connected with the
happiness of our families and friends, with the welfare of society; with
the temporal and eternal happiness of thousands.
[Illustration: MEDITATION.]
[Illustration]
Meditation is the soul's perspective glass, whereby, in her long
removes, she discerns God as if he were near at hand. It is thinking,
not growth, that makes the perfect man or woman. Hence life may be said
to have commenced when the mind learns to meditate upon its nature, its
powers, and its possibilities. This is the commencement of true
soul-growth. To live without thought is not life; it is simple, barren
existence. There is in youth a natural impulsiveness which is highly
detrimental to their best interests. In itself this is not wrong; but
personal usefulness depends upon its being controlled and brought into
subjection to the judgment.
The first and hardest lesson of life to learn is to subdue and chasten
the inborn impulses of the soul. His soaring ambition, his reckless
hopes, his daring courage must be held in check by the rein of sober
sense. The curb and bit must be put on and drawn tightly, and this must
be done by his own hand. In his hours of meditation he must form his
plans, lay out his work, breathe his prayer for victory, and swear
eternal fealty to his purpose of right. In the still chambers of thought
he must rally his moral forces, pledge them to duty, and call aid from
above in his solemn work. Others may assist him by encouragement, by
advice and solemn warning; but the work is his own. If he has learned to
think, he has within an element of safety found nowhere else.
What can be more distasteful than the actions of impulsive people?
To-day they are borne on the gale of the wildest pleasure—they are more
giddy than the feather tossed in the breeze; to-morrow, in darkness of
spirit, despairing and wretched, because their hot-brained fancies
failed to give them peace and joy. To-day they thoughtlessly act as
their impulses lead them; to-morrow they are full of regrets about the
mistakes and blunders of yesterday. They give full vent to whatever
impulsive feeling happens to come uppermost, changing more often than
the wind, and reflecting as little upon their variations. It is the
office of meditation to train and subdue these impulses.
The fault is not in the joyousness of spirit which accompanies youthful
action, but in the impulsiveness with which they are indulged. The
feelings come forth as masters, whereas they should be servants,
subdued, but joyous. They should be submissive and obedient children of
the will, doing its dictates with alacrity and power. They should make
the intellect more active, the affections more warm and deep, and the
moral sense more varied and strong. The fruit of meditation is propriety
of action. There is a simple and beautiful propriety, pleasing to all,
which gives grace to the manners and loveliness to the whole being,
which all should strive to possess. It is neither too grave nor too gay,
too gleesome nor too sad, nor either of these at improper places. It is
to be mirthful without being silly, joyous without being foolish, sober
without being despondent, to speak plainly without giving offense, grave
without casting a shadow over others.
Meditation should sit on the throne of the mind as the counselor of the
mental powers; and thus, by early habits of obedience, even the passions
will become powers of noble import, contributing an energy and
determination that will wrest victory out of every conflict and success
out of every struggle. To secure this blessing, one must early learn to
hold counsel within himself over every desire and impulse that rises
within him, over every action of the soul, and see that at all times
obedience is yielded to the dictates of this counsel. To be successful
in this he must be always watchful, always guarded, always striving for
the more perfect attainment of the great object before him.
He who can not command his thoughts must not hope to control his
actions. All mental superiority originates in habits of thought. Take
away thought from the life of a man and what remains? You may glean
knowledge by reading, but you must separate the chaff from the wheat by
thinking. The value of our thoughts depend much upon the course they
take, whether the subject in hand be examined fully and carefully, or
only given an undecided glance, whence our thoughts revert to other
matters to be treated in the same desultory way. Many minds from want of
training can not really _think_. It is of great importance that right
habits of thought be formed and fostered in early life. A person may
see, hear, read, and learn whatever he pleases; but he will know very
little beyond that which he has thought over and made the property of
his mind.
Become master of your thoughts so that you can command them at your
pleasure. Whenever you read have your thoughts about you. Make careful
observations as you pass along, and select subjects upon which your
thoughts shall dwell when your book shall have been laid aside. He who
reads only for present gratification, and neglects to digest what he
reads, nor calls it up for future contemplation, will not be likely to
ever know the extent of his own powers, for the best test calculated to
make them known will remain unemployed. Consider the great field which
is open before you. Into whichever department you take your way, you
will be amazed at the magnitude and grandeur of the objects by which you
are surrounded, and your mind will be filled with the most exalted
conceptions of the goodness, wisdom, and power of the Creator.
We can not guard too much against indulgence in thoughts, which, trivial
as they may at first appear, would give a cast to our whole character
should they become settled habits. Impure thoughts are seeds of sin. If
dropped into the soil of the mind, they should be cast out immediately;
otherwise they will germinate, spring up, and bear fruits of sinful
words and acts. Few consider the power and magnitude of thought. Man is
not as he seems, nor as he acts, but as he thinks. It is the thoughts of
a man, and not his deeds, that are the true exponent of his character.
Deeds make reputation, thought makes character. Deeds are the paper
currency of thought stamped in the mint of purity. Thoughts surpass
deeds in power and grandeur in the same ratio as character surpasses
reputation.
Many lives are wrecked through thoughtlessness alone. If you find
yourself in low company do not sit carelessly by till you are gradually
drawn into the whirlpool, but _think_ of the consequences of such a
course. Rational thought will lead you to seek the society of your
superiors, and you must improve by the association. A benevolent use of
your example and influence for the elevation of the fallen is a noble
thing. Even the most depraved are not beyond such help. But the young
man of impressible character must at least think and beware lest he fall
himself a victim. _Think_ before you touch the wine cup. Remember its
effects upon thousands, and know that you are no stronger than they were
in their youth. _Think_ before you allow angry passions to overcome your
reason. It is thus that murder is wrought. _Think_ before, in a dark
hour of temptation, you allow yourself to drift into crime. _Think_ well
ere a lie or an oath passes your lips, for a man of pure speech only can
merit respect. Think of things pure and lovely and of good report; think
of God and of heaven, of life and duty, and your thoughts being thus
elevating and inspiring, your life will be full of good deeds and
pleasant memories.
[Illustration: PRINCIPLES.]
[Illustration]
Our principles are the springs of our actions; our actions, the springs
of our happiness or misery. Too much care, therefore, can not be taken
in forming our principles. Men of genuine excellence in every station of
life—men of industry, of integrity, of high principles, of sterling
honesty of purpose—command the spontaneous homage of mankind. It is
natural to believe in such men, to have confidence in them, and to
imitate them. All that is good in the world is upheld by them, and
without their presence in it, the world would scarcely be worth the
living in.
That young man is sure to become a worthless character and a pernicious
member of society, who is loose in his principles and habits, who lives
without plan and without object, spending his time in idleness and
pleasure. He forgets his high destination as a rational, immortal being;
he degrades himself to a level with the brute, and is not only
disqualified for all the serious duties of life, but proves himself a
nuisance and a curse to all with whom he is connected. Every
unprincipled man is an enemy to society, and richly merits its
condemnation. They are not respected, they are not patronized;
confidence and support are withheld from them, and they are left,
neglected and despised, to float down the stream of life.
No young man can hope to rise in society, or act worthily his part in
life, without a fair moral character. The basis of such a character is
virtuous principles, or a deep, fixed sense of moral obligation. The man
who possesses such character can be trusted. Integrity and justice are
to him words of meaning, and he aims to exemplify the virtues they
express in his outward life. Such a man has decision of character; he
knows what is right, and is firm in doing it. He has independence of
character; he thinks and acts for himself, and is not to be made a tool
to serve the purpose of party. He has consistency of purpose, pursuing a
straightforward course; and what he is to-day he will be to-morrow. Such
a man has true worth of character, and his life is a blessing to
himself, to his family, to society, and to the world. To have a
character founded on good principles is the first and indispensable
qualification of a good citizen. It imparts life and strength and beauty
not only to individual character, but to all social institutions. It is,
indeed, the dew and the rain that nourish the vine and the fig-tree by
which we are shaded and refreshed.
Deportment, honesty, caution, and a desire to do right, carried out in
practice, are to human character what truth, reverence, and love are to
religion. They are the constant elements of a good character. Let the
vulgar and the degraded scoff at such virtues if they will, a strict,
upright, onward course will evince to the world that there is more manly
independence in one forgiving smile than in all their fictitious rules
of honor. Virtue must have its admirers, and firmness of principle, both
moral and religious, will ever command the proudest encomiums of the
intelligent world. The auspicious bearing of such principles on the
formation of your character and on your best interests can not be too
highly estimated. These are the mainspring of purpose and action. Their
formation can not be begun too early in life, since they will remain
with you as long as you live, and exert a decisive influence on your
condition of success or failure.
There is no brighter jewel in any young man's character than to be
firmly established on principles of unyielding rectitude. They change
not with times and circumstances. They are the same yesterday, to-day,
and forever. They extend their sway to all beings and to all classes, to
the man of learning and the ignorant peasant, to the beggar and the
prince; they are the bond of union and the source of blessedness to all
subjects of God's empire. It is always easy to know what is right, but
often difficult to decide what is best for our present interests or
popularity. He who acts from false principles is often perplexed in
deciding on any plan of action. He knows not what course to pursue, or
how to avoid the difficulties that are ever thickening around him. His
way is dark and crooked, and full of snares and pitfalls. But the way is
light as day to him whose ruling principle is duty. He is not perplexed
as to questions of interest or popularity.
Such a man, whether rich or poor, has those solid and excellent traits
of character which are certain to secure for him the esteem and
confidence of all good men; and even those who are too weak to imitate
his virtues are obliged to yield to him the secret homage of their
respect. But the greatest boon of all is the self-respect he thus
secures. He is not degraded in his own eyes by acting from unworthy and
criminal motives. And it is only when once lost that you fully realize
how valuable is this boon of self-respect. It is the fruit of exertion
in right ways.
There are false principles, to embrace which is certain defeat to hopes
of future usefulness. There are some who make pleasure the aim of their
lives, and who seem to live only for their own enjoyment. Man was made
for action, for duty, and usefulness; and it is only when he lives in
accordance with this great design of his being that he attains his
highest dignity and truest happiness. To make pleasure his ultimate aim
is certainly to fail of it. No matter what a young man's situation and
prospects are—no matter if he is perfectly independent in his
circumstances and heir to millions—he will certainly become a worthless
character if he does not aim at something higher than his own selfish
enjoyment. A life thus spent is a life lost. It is utterly inconsistent
with all manliness of thought and action. It forms a character of
effeminacy and feebleness, and entails on its possessor, not only the
contempt of all worthy and good men, but embitters the decline of life
with shame and self-reproach.
Another principle of evil import is the love of money, which exerts a
mighty and powerful influence over the children of men. When once the
love of money becomes in any man a dominant principle of action there is
an end of all hope of his ever attaining the true excellence of an
intelligent moral being. Money is the supreme and governing motive of
his conduct, and, where this is the case, it is not to be expected that
a man will be very scrupulous as to the means of obtaining it. Put a
piece of gold too close to the eye and it is large enough to blind you
to home, to love, to death, and to heaven itself.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: OPPORTUNITY.]
"There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries."
—SHAKESPEARE.
[Illustration]
Many fail in life from the want, as they are too ready to suppose,
of those great occasions wherein they might have shown their
trustworthiness and their integrity. But in order to find whether a
vessel be leaky we first prove it with water before we trust it with
wine. The more minute and trivial opportunities of being just and
upright are constantly occurring to every one. It is the proper
employment of these smaller opportunities that occasion the great ones.
It is one of the common mistakes of life, and one of the most radical
sources of evil, to wait for opportunities. Many persons are looking for
some marked event or some grand opening through which they hope to
develop what may be in them, and thus make potent a character which now,
for lack of motives, is barren and unfruitful.
The real materials out of which our characters are forming are the
hourly occurrences of every-day life. Every claim of duty, the
employment of each minute, the daily vexations or trials we are called
upon to bear, the momentary decisions that must be made, the casual
interview, the contact with sin or sorrow in every-day dress—all, these
and many others as small and as constant, are the real opportunities of
life. These we are continually embracing or neglecting, and out of them
we are forming a character that is fast consolidating into the shape we
gave it for good or for evil. If we watch through a single day we shall
doubtless discover hundreds of opportunities of both doing and receiving
good that we have, perhaps, hitherto passed by with indifference, and by
diligent assiduity in seeking for and embracing these we shall be
prepared to encounter the fiercer storms of life that may await us, or
to take advantage of future opportunities that may offer for our good.
A man's opportunity usually has some relation to his ability. It is an
opening for a man of his talents and means. It is an opening for him to
use what he has faithfully and to the utmost. It requires toil,
self-denial, faith. If he says, "I want a better opportunity than that;
I am worthy of a higher position than that," or if he thinks the
opportunity too insignificant to be embraced, he is very likely in after
years to see the folly of his course. There are scores of young men all
over the land who want to acquire wealth, and yet every day scorn such
opportunities as our really rich men would have improved. They want to
begin, not as others do, at the foot of the ladder, but half way up.
They want somebody to give them a lift or to carry them up in a balloon,
so that they can avoid the early and arduous struggles of the majority
of those who have been successful.
The most unsuccessful men are usually the ones who think they could do
great things if they only had the opportunity. But something has always
prevented them. Providence has hedged them in so that they could not
carry out their plan. They knew just how to get rich, but they lacked
opportunity. A man can not expect that great opportunities will meet him
all along through his life like milestones by the wayside. Usually he
has one or two; if he neglects them he is like the man who takes the
wrong course where several meet. The farther he goes the worse he fares.
In the life of the most unlucky persons there are always some occasions
when by prompt and vigorous action he may win the thing he has at heart.
"There is nobody," says a Roman cardinal, "whom fortune does not visit
once in his life. But when she finds he is not ready to receive her, she
goes in at the door and out through the window." Opportunity is coy. The
careless, the slow, the unobservant, the lazy fail to see her, or clutch
at her when she has gone. The sharp fellows detect her instantly, and
seize her on the wing.
It is ofttimes not sufficient to wait for opportunity, even though
improved when it has come. We must not only strike the iron while it is
hot, but make it hot by striking. In other words, if opportunity does
not present herself we must try our best to compel her attendance.
Opportunity is in respect to time in some sense as time is in respect to
eternity; it is the small moment, the exact point, the critical minute
on which every good work so much depends. Hesitation is in some
instances a sign of weakness, and an exhibition of caution instead of an
aid is a hinderance. At the critical moment there is no time for
over-squeamishness; else the opportunity slips away beyond recall, even
as the spoken word or the sped arrow. The period of life during which a
man _must_ venture, if ever, is so limited that it is no bad rule to
preach up the necessity in such instances of a little violence done to
the feelings, and of efforts made in defiance of strict and sober
calculation, rather than to pass one opportunity after another. It is
not accident that helps a man in the world, but purpose and persistent
industry. These make a man sharp to discover opportunities and to turn
them to account. To the feeble, the sluggish and purposeless the
happiest opportunities avail nothing. They pass them by, seeing no
meaning in them. But to the energetic, wide-awake man they are occasions
of great moment, the improvement of which contribute in no small degree
to his ultimate success.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: DUTY.]
"I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty;
I woke, and found that life was duty."
[Illustration]
Duty rounds out the whole of life, from our entrance into it until our
exit from it. There is the duty to superiors, to inferiors, to equals,
to God and to man. Wherever there is power to use or to direct, there is
a duty devolving upon us. Duty is a thing that is due and must be paid
by every man who would avoid present discredit, and eventual moral
insolvency. It is an obligation, a debt, which can only be discharged by
voluntary effort and resolute action in the affairs of life. The abiding
sense of duty is the very crown of character. It is the upholding law of
man in his highest attitudes. Without it the individual totters and
falls before the first puff of adversity or temptation; whereas,
inspired by it, the weakest become strong and full of courage.
"Duty," says Mrs. Jameson, "is the cement which binds the whole moral
edifice together, without which all power, goodness, intellect, truth,
happiness, love itself, can have no permanence, but all the fabric of
existence crumble away from under us, and leave us at last sitting in
the midst of a ruin, astonished at our own desolation." Take man from
the lowest depths of poverty or from the downy beds of wealth, and you
will find that to act well his part in life he must recognize and live
up to the rule of duty. As the ship is safely guided across the ocean by
a helm, so on the ocean of existence duty is the helm, without which
life is lost. It is the lesson of history, no less than the experience
of the present age, that an attention to duty in all of its details is
the only sure road to real greatness, whether individual or national.
Duty is based upon a sense of justice—justice inspired by love—which
is the most perfect form of goodness. Duty is not a sentiment, but a
principle pervading the life, and it exhibits itself in conduct and in
action. Duty is above all consequences, and often, at a crisis of
difficulty, commands us to throw them overboard. It commands us to look
neither to the right nor to the left, but straight forward. Every signal
act of duty is an act of faith. It is performed in the assurance that
God will take care of the consequences, and will so order the course of
the world that, whatever the immediate results may be, his word shall
not return to him empty. The voice of conscience speaks in duty done,
and without its regulating and controlling influence the brightest and
greatest intellect may be merely as a light that leads astray.
Conscience sets a man upon his feet, while his will holds him upright.
Conscience is the moral governor of the heart, and only through its
dominating influence can a noble and upright character be fully
developed. That we ought to do an action is of itself a sufficient and
ultimate answer to the question _why_ we should do it.
The conscience may speak never so loudly, but without energetic will it
may speak in vain. The will is free to choose between the right course
and the wrong one; but the choice is nothing unless followed by
immediate and decisive action. If the sense of duty be strong and the
course of action clear, the courageous will, upheld by the conscience,
enables a man to proceed on his course bravely, and to accomplish his
purposes in the face of all opposition and difficulty; and should
failure be the issue, there will remain at least the satisfaction that
it has been in the cause of duty. There is a sublimity in conscious
rectitude, a pleasure in the approval of one's own mind, in comparison
with which the treasures of earth are not worth mentioning. The peace
and happiness arising from this are above all change and beyond all
decay. Disappointment and trials do but improve them; they go with us
into all places and attend us through every changing scene of life. They
sustain and delight at home and abroad, by day and by night, in solitude
and in society, in sickness and in health, in time and eternity. All
this is sure to be the reward of him who knows his duty and does it,
regardless as to what others say or as to the immediate results flowing
from thence.