not our abiding city, that all that we call ours here is only lent,
not given us, and that if the sorrow for those we have lost remains
the same, we must yet acknowledge with gratitude to God the great
blessing of having enjoyed so many years with those whom He gave us,
as parents, or children, or friends. One forgets so easily the happy
years one has had with those who were the nearest to us. Even these
years of happiness, however short they may have been, were only
given us, we had not deserved them. I know well there is no comfort
for this pain of parting: the wound always remains, but one learns
to bear the pain, and learns to thank God for what He gave, for the
beautiful memories of the past, and the yet more beautiful hope for
the future. If a man has lent us anything for several years, and at
last takes it back, he expects gratitude, not anger; and if God
has more patience with our weakness than men have, yet murmurs and
complaints for the life which He measured out for us as is best for
us, are not what He expected from us. A spirit of resignation to
God's will is our only comfort, the only relief under the trials
God lays upon us, and with such a spirit the heaviest as well as
the lightest trials of life are not only bearable, but useful, and
gratitude to God and joy in life and death remain untroubled.
_Life._
By a grave one learns what life really is--that it is not here but
elsewhere--that this is the exile and there is our home. As we grow
older the train of life goes faster and faster, those with whom we
travelled together step out from station to station, and our own
station too will soon be reached.
_MS._
It seems to me so ungrateful to allow one moment to pass that is
not full of joy and happiness, and devotion to Him who gives us all
this richly to enjoy. The clouds will come, they must come, but they
ought never to be of our own making.
_Life._
The shadows fall thicker and thicker, but even in the shade it is
well, often better than in full sunshine. And when the evening
comes, one is tired and ready to sleep! And so all is ordered for
us, if we only accommodate ourselves to it quietly.
_Life._
As long as God wills it we must learn to bear this life, but when He
calls us we willingly close our eyes, for we know it is better for
us there than here. When so many whom we loved are gone before us,
we follow gladly; and the older we become here, the more one feels
that death is a relief. And yet we can thankfully enjoy what is
still left us on earth, even if our hearts no longer cling to it as
formerly.
_Life._
Our life here is not our own work, and we know that it is best for
us all just as it is. We ought to bear it, and we must bear it; and
the more patiently, yes, the more joyfully, we accommodate ourselves
to it, the better for us. We must take life as it is, as the way
appointed for us, and that must lead to a certain goal. Some go
sooner, some later, but we all go the same way, and all find the
same place of rest. Impatience, gloom, murmurs and tears do not help
us, do not alter anything, and make the road longer, not shorter.
Quiet, resignation, thankfulness and faith help us forwards, and
alone make it possible to perform the duties which we all, each in
his own sphere, have to fulfil.... The darker the night, the clearer
the stars in heaven.
_Life._
How different life might be, if in our daily intercourse and
conversation we thought of our friends as lying before us on the
last bed of flowers--how differently we should then judge, and
how differently we should act. All that is of the earth is then
forgotten, all the little failings inherent in human nature vanish
from our minds, and we only see what was good, unselfish, and loving
in that soul, and we think with regret of how much more we might
have done to requite that love. It is curious how forgetful we are
of death, how little we think that we are dying daily, and that
what we call life is really death, and death the beginning of a
higher life. Such a thought should not make our life less bright,
but rather more--it should make us feel how unimportant many things
are which we consider all-important: how much we could bear which we
think unbearable, if only we thought that to-morrow we ourselves or
our friends may be taken away, at least for a time. You should think
of death, should feel that what you call your own is only lent to
you, and that all that remains as a real comfort is the good work
done in this short journey, the true unselfish love shown to those
whom God has given us, has placed near to us, not without a high
purpose.
_Life._
What a marvel life seems to be the older we grow! So far from
becoming more intelligible, it becomes a greater wonder every day.
One stands amazed, and everything seems so small--the little one can
do so very small. One ought not to brood too much, when there is no
chance of light, and yet how natural it is that one should brood
over life and death, rather than on the little things of life.
_Life._
If we only hold fast the belief that nothing happens but by the will
of God, we learn to be still and can bear everything. The older
one grows, the more one feels sure that life here is but a long
imprisonment, and one longs for freedom and higher efforts.... How
small and insignificant is all in this life when we raise our eyes
above. Gazing up to the Lord of the Universe, all strife is made
easy. We speak different tongues when we think of the Highest, but
we all mean the same thing.
_MS._
It is sad to think of all that was and is no more, and yet there is
something much more real in memory than one used to think. All is
there but what our weak human senses require, and nothing is lost,
nothing can be lost except what we know would vanish one day, but
what was the husk only, not the kernel. I have learnt to live with
those who went before us, and they seem more entirely our own than
when they were with us in the body. And as long as we have duties to
fulfil, so long as there are others who lean on us and want us, life
can be lived a few years longer, it can only be a few years.
_MS._
Life is earnest! is a very old lesson, and we are never too old
to learn it. 'Life is an art' is Goethe's doctrine, and there is
some truth in it also, as long as art does not imply artful or
artificial. Huxley used to say the highest end of life is action,
not knowledge. There I quite differ. First knowledge, then action,
and what a lottery action is! The best intentions often fail, and
what is done to-day is undone to-morrow. However, we must toil on
and do what every day brings us, and do it as well as we can, and
better, if possible, than anybody else.
_Life._
What can we call ours if God did not vouchsafe it to us from day to
day? Yet it is so difficult to give oneself up entirely to Him, to
trust everything to His Love and Wisdom. I thought I could say,
'Thy Will be done,' but I found I could not: my own will struggled
against His Will. I prayed as we ought not to pray, and yet He heard
me. It is so difficult not to grow very fond of this life and all
its happiness, but the more we love it, the more we suffer, for we
know we must lose it and it must all pass away.
_MS._
Our idea of life grows larger, and birth and death seem like morning
and evening. One feels that as it has been so it will be again, and
all one can do is to try to make the best of every day, as it comes
and goes.
_Life._
The things that annoy us in life are after all very trifling things,
if we always bear in mind for what purpose we are here. And even in
the heavier trials, one knows, or one should know, that all is sent
by a higher power, and in the end must be for our best interests.
It is true we cannot understand it, but we can understand that God
rules in the world in the smallest and in the largest events, and
he who keeps that ever in mind has the peace of God, and enjoys his
life as long as it lasts.
_Life._
Life may grow more strange and awful every day, but the more strange
and awful it grows, the more it reveals to us its truest meaning
and reality, and the deepest depth of its divinity. 'And God saw
everything that He had made, and behold it was very good.'
_Life._
Enjoy the precious years God has added to your life, with constant
gratitude, with quiet and purity of soul, looking more to the
heavenly than to the earthly: that gives true joyfulness of soul, if
we _every moment_ recollect what is eternal, and never quite lose
ourselves in the small, or even the large cares of life.
_Life._
If we live on this earth only, if our thoughts are hemmed in by the
narrow horizon of this life, then we lose indeed those whom death
takes from us. But it is death itself which teaches us that there is
a Beyond, we are lifted up and see a new world, far beyond what we
had seen before. In that wide world we lead a new and larger life,
a life which includes those we no longer see on earth, but whom we
cannot surrender. The old Indian philosophers say that no one can
find the truth whose heart is attached to his wife and children. No
doubt perfect freedom from all affections would make life and death
very easy. But may not the very love which we feel for those who
belong to us, even when they are taken from us, bring light to our
eyes, and make us see the truth that, by that very love, we belong
to another world, and that from that world, however little we can
here know about it, love will not be excluded. We believe what we
desire--true--but why do we desire? Let us be ourselves, let us be
what we are meant to be on earth, and trust to Him who made us what
we are.
_MS._
Yes, every day adds a new thin layer of new thoughts, and these
layers form the texture of our character. The materials come
floating towards us, but the way in which they settle down depends
much on the ebb and flow within us. We can do much to keep off
foreign elements, and to attach and retain those which serve
best in building up a strong rock. But from time to time a great
sorrow breaks through all the strata of our soul--all is upheaved,
shattered, distorted. In nature all that is grand dates from such
convulsions--why should we wish for a new smooth surface, or let our
sorrows be covered by the flat sediment of everyday life?
_MS._
If we feel that this life can only be a link in a chain without
beginning and without end, in a circle which has its beginning and
its end everywhere and nowhere, we learn to bear it, and to enjoy it
too, in a new sense. What we achieve here assumes a new meaning--it
will not altogether perish, whether for good or for evil. What is
done in time is done for ever--what is done by one affects us all.
Thus our love too is not lost--what is loved in time is loved for
ever. The form changes, but that which changes, which undergoes
change, remains itself unchanged. We seem to love the fleeting forms
of life, and yet how can we truly love what is so faithless? No, we
truly love what is, and was, and will be, hidden under the fleeting
forms of life, but in itself more than those fleeting forms however
fair. We love the fair appearance too, how could it be otherwise?
but we should love it only as belonging to what we love--not as
being what we love. So it is, or rather so it ought to be. Yet while
we are what we are, we love the flower, not the sightless grain
of seed, and when that flower fades and passes away, we mourn for
it, and our only comfort is that we too fade and pass away. Then
we follow there, wherever they go. Some flowers fade sooner, some
later, but none is quite forgotten.
_MS._
It would be difficult to say at what moment in our young lives real
responsibility begins. The law fixes a time, our own heart cannot
do that. Yet in spite of this unknown quantity at the beginning, we
begin afterwards to reckon with ourselves. Why should we protest
against a similar unknown quantity before the beginning of our
life on earth? Wherever and whenever it was, we feel that we have
made ourselves what we are; is not that a useful article of faith?
Does it not help us to decide on undoing what we have done wrong
and in doing all the good we can, even if it does not bear fruit,
within or without, in this life? A break of consciousness does not
seem incompatible with a sense of responsibility, if we know by
reasoning, though not by recollection, that what we see done in
ourselves must have been done by ourselves. And even if we waive the
question of responsibility for the first two or three years of our
life on earth, surely we existed during those years though we do not
recollect it,--then why not before our life on earth?
_MS._
We must learn to live two lives--this short life here on earth with
its joys and sorrows, and that true life beyond, of which this is
only a fragment or an interruption. When we enter into that true
life, we shall find what we cannot find here, we shall find what we
have lost here. If only so many things did not seem so irregular, so
unnatural. The death of young children before their parents. We love
them better because we know we can lose them--that is true--but yet
it is a hard lesson to learn.
_MS._
One month will go after another, till at last this journey is over,
and we look back on it grateful for the many pleasures it has given
us, grateful for the company of so many kind friends whom we met,
grateful also for the struggles which we had to go through and which
will appear so small, and so little worth our tears and anguish,
when all is over and the last station and resting-place reached in
safety.
_MS._
LOVE
I cannot help thinking that the souls towards whom we feel drawn
in this life are the very souls whom we knew and loved in a former
life, and that the souls who repel us here, we do not know why, are
the souls that earned our disapproval, the souls from whom we kept
aloof, in a former life. But let us remember that if our love is
the love of what is merely phenomenal, the love of the body, the
kindness of the heart, the vigour and wisdom of the intellect, our
love is the love of changing and perishable things.... But if our
love, under all its earthly aspects, was the love of the true soul,
of what is immortal and divine in every man and woman, that love
cannot die, but will find once more what seems beautiful, true, and
lovable in worlds to come, as in worlds that have passed.... What we
truly love in everything is the eternal _âtman_, the immortal self,
and as we should add, the immortal God, for the immortal self and
the immortal God must be one.
_Last Essays._
We must not forget that if earthly love has in the vulgar mind been
often degraded into mere animal passion, it still remains in its
purest sense the highest mystery of our existence, the most perfect
blessing and delight on earth, and at the same time the truest
pledge of our more than human nature. To be able to feel the same
unselfish devotion to the Deity which the human heart is capable of,
if filled with love for another human soul, is something that may
well be called the best religion.
_Gifford Lectures, IV._
What the present generation ought to learn, the young as well as the
old, is spirit and perseverance to discover the beautiful, pleasure
and joy in making it known, and resigning ourselves with grateful
hearts to its enjoyment; in a word--love, in the old, true, eternal
meaning of the word. Only sweep away the dust of self-conceit,
the cobwebs of selfishness, the mud of envy, and the old type of
humanity will soon reappear, as it was when it could still 'embrace
millions.' The love of mankind, the true fountain of all humanity,
is still there; it can never be quite choked up. He who can descend
into this fountain of youth, who can again recover himself, who can
again be that which he was by nature, loves the beautiful wherever
he finds it; he understands enjoyment and enthusiasm, in the few
quiet hours which he can win for himself in the noisy, deafening
hurry of the times in which we live.
_Chips._
Would not the carrying out of one single commandment of Christ,
'Love one another,' change the whole aspect of the world, and sweep
away prisons and workhouses, and envying and strife, and all the
strongholds of the devil? Two thousand years have nearly passed, and
people have not yet understood that one single command of Christ,
'Love one another'! We are as perfect heathens in that one respect
as it is possible to be. No, this world might be heaven on earth, if
we would but carry out God's work and God's commandments, and so it
will be hereafter.
_Life._
If we do a thing because we think it is our duty, we generally fail;
that is the old law which makes slaves of us. The real spring of our
life, and of our work in life, must be love--true, deep love--not
love of this or that person, or for this or that reason, but deep
human love, devotion of soul to soul, love of God realised where
alone it can be, in love of those whom He loves. Everything else
is weak, passes away; that love alone supports us, makes life
tolerable, binds the present together with the past and future, and
is, we may trust, imperishable.
_Life._
Love which seems so unselfish may become very selfish if we are
not on our guard. Do not shut your eyes to what is dark in others,
but do not dwell on it except so far as it helps to bring out more
strongly what is bright in them, lovely, and unselfish. The true
happiness of true love is self-forgetfulness and trust.
_Life._
There is nothing in life like a mother's love, though children
often do not find it out till it is too late. If you want to be
really happy in life, love your mother with all your heart; it is a
blessing to feel that you belong to her, and that through her you
are connected by an unbroken chain with the highest source of our
being.
_MS._
Is there such a thing as a Lost Love? I do not believe it. Nothing
that is true and great is ever lost on earth, though its fulfilment
may be deferred beyond this short life.... Love is eternal, and
all the more so if it does not meet with its fulfilment on earth.
If once we know that our lives are in the hands of God, and that
nothing can happen to us without His Will, we are thankful for
the trials which He sends us. Is there any one who loves us more
than God? any one who knows better what is for our real good than
God? This little artificial and complicated society of ours may
sometimes seem to be outside His control, but if we think so it is
our own fault, and we have to suffer for it. We blame our friends,
we mistrust ourselves, and all this because our wild hearts will not
be quiet in that narrow cage in which they must be kept to prevent
mischief.
_Life._
Does love pass away (with death)? I cannot believe it. God made
us as we are, many instead of one. Christ died for all of us
individually, and such as we are--beings incomplete in themselves,
and perfect only through love to God on one side, and through
love to man on the other. We want both kinds of love for our very
existence, and therefore in a higher and better existence too the
love of kindred souls may well exist together with our love of God.
We need not love those we love best on earth less in heaven, though
we may love all better than we do on earth. After all, love seems
only the taking away those unnatural barriers which divide us from
our fellow creatures--it is only the restoration of that union
which binds us altogether in God, and which has broken on earth
we know not how. In Christ alone that union was preserved, for He
loved us _all_ with a love warmer than the love of a husband for
his wife, or a mother for her child. He gave His life for us, and
if we ask ourselves there is hardly a husband or a mother who would
really suffer death for his wife or her child. Thus we see that even
what seems to us the most perfect love is very far as yet from the
perfection of love which drives out the whole self and all that is
selfish, and we must try to love more, not to love less, and trust
that what is imperfect here is not meant to be destroyed, but to be
made perfect hereafter. With God nothing is imperfect; without Him
everything is imperfect. We must live and love in God, and then we
need not fear: though our life seem chequered and fleeting, we know
that there is a home for us in God, and rest for all our troubles in
Christ.
_Life._
Let us hold together while life lasts. Hand in hand we may achieve
more than each alone by himself. We are much less afraid when we are
two together. The chief condition of all spiritual friendship is
perfect frankness. There is no better proof of true friendship than
sincere reproof, where such reproof is necessary. We are occupied
in one great work, and in this consciousness all that is small must
necessarily disappear.
_Life._
Why do we love so deeply? Is not that also God's will? And if so,
why should that love ever cease? What should we be without it? I
cannot believe that we are to surrender that love, that we are to
lose those who were given us to love. Love may be purified, may
become more and more unselfish, may be very different from what
it was on earth, but sympathy, suffering together and rejoicing
together, lies very deep at the root of all being--were it ever
to cease, our very being might cease too. We cannot help loving,
loving more and more, better and better. Thus life becomes brighter
and brighter again, and we feel that we have not lost those who are
taken from us for a little while. We love them all the more, all the
better.
_MS._
How selfish we are even in our love. Here we live for a short
season, and we know we must part sooner or later. We wish to go
first, and to leave those whom we love behind us, and we sorrow
because they went first and left us behind. As soon as one looks
beyond this life, it seems so short, yet there was a time when it
seemed endless.
_MS._
The past is ours, and there we have all who loved us, and whom we
love as much as ever, ay, more than ever.
_MS._
MANKIND
The earth was unintelligible to the ancients because looked upon
as a solitary being, without a peer in the whole universe; but
it assumed a new and true significance as soon as it rose before
the eyes of man as one of many planets, all governed by the same
laws, and all revolving around the same centre. It is the same with
the human soul, and its nature stands before our mind in quite a
different light since man has been taught to know and feel himself
as a member of a great family--as one of the myriads of wandering
stars all governed by the same laws, and all revolving around the
same centre, and all deriving their light from the same source.
'Universal History' has laid open new avenues of thought, and it
has enriched our language with a word which never passed the lips
of Socrates, or Plato, or Aristotle--_Mankind_. Where the Greek saw
barbarians, we see brethren; where the Greek saw nations, we see
mankind, toiling and suffering, separated by oceans, divided by
language, and severed by national enmity,--yet evermore tending,
under a divine control, towards the fulfilment of that inscrutable
purpose for which the world was created, and man placed in it,
bearing the image of God. History therefore, with its dusty and
mouldering pages, is to us as sacred a volume as the book of
nature. In both we read, or we try to read, the reflex of the laws
and thoughts of a Divine Wisdom. We believe that there is nothing
irrational in either history or nature, and that the human mind is
called upon to read and to revere in both the manifestations of a
Divine Power.
_Chips._
There are two antagonistic schools--the one believing in a
descending, the other in an ascending development of the human
race; the one asserting that the history of the human mind begins
of necessity with a state of purity and simplicity which gradually
gives way to corruption, perversity, and savagery; the other
maintaining that the first human beings could not have been more
than one step above the animals, and that their whole history
is one of progress towards higher perfection. With regard to
the beginnings of religion, the one school holds to a primitive
suspicion of something that is beyond--call it supernatural,
transcendental, infinite, or divine. It considers a silent walking
across this bridge of life, with eyes fixed on high, as a more
perfect realisation of primitive religion than singing of Vedic
hymns, offering of Jewish sacrifices, or the most elaborate creeds
and articles. The other begins with the purely animal and passive
nature of man, and tries to show how the repeated impressions of
the world in which he lived, drove him to fetichism and totemism,
whatever these words may mean, to ancestor worship, to a worship of
nature, of trees and serpents, of mountains and rivers, of clouds
and meteors, of sun and moon and stars, and the vault of heaven, and
at last to a belief in One who dwells in heaven above.
_Chips._
MIND OR THOUGHT
Wherever we can see clearly, we see that what we call mind and
thought consist in this, that man has the power not only to receive
presentations like an animal, but to discover something general in
them. This element he can eliminate and fix by vocal signs; and he
can further classify single presentations under the same general
concepts, and mark them by the same vocal signs.
_Silesian Horseherd._
Language and thought go hand in hand; where there is as yet no word,
there is not yet an idea. The thinking capacity of the mind has its
source in language, lives in language, and develops continually in
language.
_Silesian Horseherd._