And so, my friends, the central truth that I deliver to you is this, that life, life upon the summit of the soul, is the supreme, resplendent luminary. Not argument, not philosophy, not the elaborate, logical processes of the intellect, not the Bible, not the church, but life; this is the great infallible interpreter. Live and ye shall see. "Do my will," says Christ, "and ye shall know." Stand high and firm on the summit of your soul and ye shall see the things that must be hereafter—a victorious righteousness, a triumphant life, and the redeemed hosts swathed and folded in the light of Him who is everlasting, omnipotent and all-loving.
Brethren, be merciful in your judgment of others.
Every temptation promptly resisted strengthens the will.
There is a sad want of thoughtful mercy among us all.
Every step we take on the ladder upwards helps to a higher.
If we are true Odd-Fellows we will put away all bitterness and malice.
Brothers, remember the moral harvest comes to all perfection; not one grain is lost.
As Odd-Fellows there are loads we can help others to carry, and thus learn sympathy.
The test of truthfulness is true dealing with ourselves when we do wrong and true dealing with the brethren when they fall.
It is a serious reflection that even our secret thoughts influence those around us.
The Brotherhood has a Father watching over it, "who is the same yesterday, today and forever."
Man alone is responsible for the eternal condition of his soul. We make our own heaven or hell, not by the final act of life, but by life itself.
Truth supplies us with the only true and perfect standard by which to test the value of things, and so corrects the one-sided, materialistic standard of business.
If an Odd-Fellow begins right I can not tell how many tears he may wipe away, how many burdens he may lift, how many orphans he may comfort, how many outcasts he may reclaim.
Love edifies; that is, it builds up perfectly the whole man, secures an entire and harmonious and proportionate development of his nature. It does so by casting out the selfishness in man which always leads to a diseased and one-sided growth of his nature.
No two souls are endowed in an exactly similar way. And for the difference of endowment there is a reason in the Divine mind, for each soul in its generation has its appointed work to do, and is endowed with suitable grace for its performance.
We are not Odd-Fellows in the true sense unless we put away all bitterness, malice and selfishness. Common sense of mankind is quite right when it says a man's religion is not worth much if it does not make him good. Have goodness first—out of goodness good works will come.
Every good work requires every good principle. A man with very prominent and striking characteristics will always be a perfect man. A perfect man has such harmonies that he scarcely has a characteristic. To be fruitful in every good work you must have in your heart the germs and seeds, the springs and sources of all Christian virtue.
We are all greater dupes to our weakness than to the skill of others; and the successes gained over us by the designing are usually nothing more than the prey taken from those very snares we have laid ourselves. One man falls by his ambition, another by his perfidy, a third by his avarice, and a fourth by his lust; what are these but so many nets, watched indeed by the fowler, but woven by the victim?
Sorrow is not an accident—occurring now and then—it is the very woof which is woven into the warp of life, and he who has not discerned the divine sacredness of sorrow, and the profound meaning which is concealed in pain, has yet to learn what life is. The cross manifested as the necessity of the highest life alone interprets it.
Equity—An eternal rule of right, implanted in the heart. What it asks for itself it is willing to grant to others. It not only forbids us to do wrong to the meanest of God's creatures, but it teaches us to observe the golden rule, "All things whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do you even so to them." There is no greater injunction—no better rule to practice.
Don't rely on friends—don't rely on the name of your ancestors. Thousands have spent the prime of life in the vain hope of help from those whom they called friends, and many thousands have starved because they have rich fathers. Rely upon the good name which is made by your own exertions, and know that better than the best friend you can have is unquestionable determination, united with decision of character.
How little is known of what is in the bosom of those around us! We might explain many a coldness could we look into the heart concealed from us; we should often pity where we hate, love when we curl the lip with scorn and indignation. To judge without reserve of any human action is a culpable temerity, of all our sins the most unfeeling and frequent.
How a common sorrow or calamity spans the widest social differences and welds all, the rich and poor, in one common bond of sympathy, which, begetting charity and all her train, softens the hardest heart and banishes the sturdiest feeling of superiority! Over the lifeless body of the departed, enemies and friend can weep together, and, burying strife and differences with their common loss, feel a kinship which unites them, and which all humanity shares.
Don't be exacting.—An exacting temper is one against which to guard both one's heart and the nature of those who are under our control and influence. To give and to allow, to suffer and to bear, are the graces more to the purpose of a noble life than cold, exacting selfishness, which must have, let who will go without, which will not yield, let who will break. It is a disastrous quality wherewith to go through the world; for it receives as much pain as it inflicts, and creates the discomfort it deprecates.
Verily, good works constitute a refreshing stream in this world, wherever they are found flowing. It is a pity that they are too often like oriental torrents, "waters that fail" in times of greatest need. When we meet the stream actually flowing and refreshing the land, we trace it upward, in order to discover the fountain whence it springs. Threading our way upward, guided by the river, we have found at length the placid lake from which the river runs. Behind all genuine good works and above them, love will, sooner or later, certainly be found. It is never good alone; uniformly, in fact, and necessarily in the nature of things, we find the two constituents existing as a complex whole, "love and good works," the fountain and the flowing stream.
Never give up old friends for new ones. Make new ones if you like, and when you have learned that you can trust them, love them if you will, but remember the old ones still. Do not forget they have been merry with you in time of pleasure, and when sorrow came to you they sorrowed also. No matter if they have gone down in social scale and you up; no matter if poverty and misfortune have come to them while prosperity came to you; are they any less true for that? Are not their hearts as warm and tender if they do beat beneath homespun instead of velvet? Yes, kind reader, they are as true, loving and tender; don't forget old friends.
Young men! Let the nobleness of your mind impel you to its improvement; you are too strong to be defeated, save by yourselves. Refuse to live merely to sleep and eat. Brutes can do this; but you are men. Act the part of men. Prepare yourselves to endure toil. Resolve to rise—you have but to resolve. Nothing can hinder your success if you determine to succeed. Do not waste your time by wishing and dreaming, but go earnestly to work. Let nothing discourage you. If you have no books, borrow them; if you have no teachers, teach yourself; if your early education has been neglected, by the greater diligence repair the defect. Let not a craven heart or a love of ease rob you of the inestimable benefit of self-culture.
Have the courage to face a difficulty, lest it kick you harder than you bargained for. Difficulties, like thieves, often disappear at a glance. Have the courage to leave a convivial party at the proper hour for doing so, however great the sacrifice; and to stay away from one upon the slightest grounds for objection, however great the temptation to go. Have the courage to do without that which you do not need, however much you may admire it. Have the courage to speak your mind when it is necessary that you should do so, and hold your tongue when it is better you should be silent. Have the courage to speak to a poor friend in a seedy coat, even in the street, and when a rich one is nigh. The effort is less than many people take it to be, and the act is worthy of a king. Have the courage to admit that you have been in the wrong, and you will remove the fact in the mind of others, putting a desirable impression in the place of an unfavorable one. Have the courage to adhere to the first resolution when you can not change it for a better, and abandon it at the eleventh hour upon conviction.
The Bible is a book for the understanding; but much more it is a book for the spirit and for the heart. Many other kinds of learning are found in the Bible. It is a manual of Eastern antiquities, a handbook of political experiences, a collection of moral wisdom as applied to personal conduct, a mine of poetry, a choice field for the study of languages. The Bible is the book of God, and therefore it is the book of the future, the book of hope. It pierces the veil between this and another life, pointing us on to the realms of light. In sorrow, in sin, and in death we may, if we will, find in the Holy Bible patience, consolation and hope. The Bible opens the widest, freest outlook for the mind into the eternal, enlarging a man's range of spiritual sight, and enabling him to judge of all things in both worlds in their true proportion. The Bible gets into life because it first came out of life. It was born of life at its best. Its writers were the tallest white angels literature has known. No other literature has five names equal to these: Moses, David, Isaiah, Paul and John. These men and the others wrote as they were moved by the Holy Ghost. The messages of the Bible are the loftiest in the range of human thought. There have been many magnificent periods like the age of Elizabeth, the time of the Renaissance and the age of Victoria, but no other single century has ever done anything equal to the production of the New Testament in the first century. The Bible has a sound psychology. It seeks to influence the whole man. It pours white light into the intellect. It grapples with the great themes upon which thinkers stretch their minds. John Fiske's three subjects are all familiar themes to the readers of the Bible. Its style is incomparable in grandeur and variety. It approaches the intellect with every form of literary style. It is the supreme intellectual force in the life of the common people. It has been teacher and school for the millions. The Puritans, for example, used it as a poem, story book, history, law and philosophy. Out of it New England was born. It has been the chief representative of the English language at its best. Anglo-Saxon life and learning are saturated with it. The literature of England and America is full of the Bible. Shakespeare and Tennyson are specimens. Each of these authors quote from nearly every book in the Bible, and each of them refers to the Bible not less than five hundred times. Herbert Spencer admits that it is the greatest educator. It is winning its place in school and college. No education is complete without a knowledge of this literature. It is the privilege of Odd-Fellowship to enthrone the Bible in the lodge-room, and in the home. It teaches the intellectual life from above and lifts it to the Bible's own level.
Dean Stanley was visiting the great scholar, Ewald, in Dresden, and in the course of the conversation, Ewald snatched up a copy of the New Testament and said, in his impulsive and enthusiastic way, "In this little book is contained all the wisdom of the world." There is a sense in which this statement is not extravagant. The book contains the highest and fullest revelation of truth the world has known. The greatest themes man's mind can ponder are here presented. The most profound problems with which the human intellect has ever grappled are here discussed. We maintain that a mastery of the contents of this book will in itself provide an intellectual discipline no other book can give. Refinement of character, refinement of thought, refinement of speech, all of the essential characteristics of the intellectual as well as of the spiritual life, have been found in our own church from the beginning, among those whose only advantages have been a personal religious experience and the consequent love and continuous study of God's word as well as among those who have had all the advantages of the schools. No man need be afraid of exhausting the truth in the Bible. No man can ever flatter himself that he has got beyond it. Whatever his intellectual attainments may be, the Bible will still have further message for him.
There was a very suggestive spectacle on the streets of London one day, just after Elizabeth had become England's Queen. As she was riding by the little conduit at the upper end of Cheapside an old man came out of it, carrying a scythe and bearing a pair of wings. He represented Father Time coming out of his dark cave to greet the young Queen. He led by the hand a young girl clad in flowing robes of white silk, and she was his daughter, Truth. Truth held in her hands an English Bible, on which was written "Verbum Veritatis," and which she presented to the Queen. It was a pageant prepared for the occasion but suggestive for this occasion as well. Truth is the daughter of Time. Our backs may be bent and our hair may be gray before we can lead Bible truth forth by the hand. We may be old before we know much; our intellectual life may be matured in fullest measure and we still can know more; we must grow a pair of wings before we know it all—even if we do then.
The Bible is the conquering book. It has already dominated English literature, so that almost the whole of its text from Genesis to Revelation might, if all the copies of the Bible were suddenly lost from the world, be restored in piecemeal fragments gathered out of the books in which the Book has been quoted, Then, besides, there are the Bible thoughts that have indirectly, we might almost say insidiously, permeated the literature of Europe and America. More than that, the Bible has been industriously for years securing its own translation into hundreds of tongues and dialects of the globe. The Koran does not take pains to translate itself, and, indeed, refuses to be translated; but in contradistinction with such apathy of false faiths, the Bible courts transcription into foreign tongues, loses nothing in the process, but thereby gains for itself the homage of multitudes who, on reading it for the first time, cry, "This is the book we long have sought, that finds us out in the deepest recesses of our being and satisfies the profoundest cravings of our souls." The Bible is the comforting book. There is no volume like it for consolation. It is the only sure and steady staff for pilgrim spirits to lean upon, and the only book that is quoted at the bedside of the sick. It is a book to wear next the heart in life, and upon which to pillow the head in death. No other so-called "scriptures" of the world say the things that the Bible says, or supply the hopes that its promises afford. The Bible is not simply a book; it is The Book. It is the best book of any kind that we have. We can not do without it, either here or hereafter. There are many books in the world, but there is only one book. The Bible is unique. It is in a class by itself. It seeks to control everything, but it co-ordinates itself with nothing. It sets forth imitable examples of character, but it is not itself imitable. No one has ever written or ever will write a second Bible. The very phrase which every one uses, "The Bible," signifies the uniqueness of this book. It is a whole library in itself, and yet it is more than a simple collection of books. There is a homogeneity and consistency to the whole which lead us to speak of scripture as being a single story, not many revelations. The Bible is the exhaustless book. It may sometimes prove exhausting to its light-minded readers, but it never exhausts itself. "It is the wonder of the Bible," observes Dr. Joseph Parker, who has preached more than twenty-five volumes of sermons upon scriptural subjects, "that you never get through it. You get through all other books, but you never get through the Bible." On the basis of a rationalistic criticism, this quality of exhaustlessness is really inexplicable. And when we come to realize that, after all has been said as to scrolls and tablets and styluses and human factors and copyists, God wrote the Bible, we understand why it is that scripture is so rich in treasures of wisdom. We see that we can not exhaust the Bible because we can not exhaust God. The Bible wields an influence that can not be estimated. The spoken word is powerful, the printed word surpasses it. The one is temporal, the other is eternal; the one is circumscribed, the other is unlimited. The spoken sermon of today is forgotten tomorrow; the written word of thousands of years ago still sways the masses of today.
The whole civilized world bows down with reverence before the book of all books, the Bible. The Roman sword, the Grecian palette and chisel, have indeed rendered noble service to the cause of civilization, yet even their proudest claims dwindle into insignificance when compared with the benefits which the Bible has wrought. It has penetrated into realms where the names of Greece and Rome have never resounded. It has illumined empires and ennobled peoples, which Roman war and Grecian art had left dark and barbarous. Where one man is charmed by the Odyssey, tens and hundreds of thousands are delighted by the Pentateuch; where one man is enthused by the Philippics of Demosthenes, millions are enthused by the orations of Isaiah; where one man is inspired by the valor of Horatious, tens of millions are inspired by the bravery of David; where one man's life is ennobled by the art in the Parthenon, scores of millions of lives are ennobled by the art in the sanctuary: where one man's life is guided by the moral maxims of Marcus Aurelius, hundreds of millions find their law of right and their rule for action in the Bible. It is read in more than two hundred and fifty languages, by four hundred millions of people living in every clime and zone of the globe. It constitutes the only literature, the only code of law and ethics, of many peoples and tribes. For thousands of years it has gone hand in hand with civilization, has led the way towards the moral and intellectual development of human kind, and despite the hatred of its enemies and the still more dangerous misinterpretations of its friends, its moral law still maintains its firm hold upon the hearts and minds of the people, its power is still supreme for kindling a love of right and duty, of justice and morality, within the hearts of the overwhelming masses. Were it possible to annihilate the Bible, and with it all the influence it has exercised, the pillars upon which civilization rests would be knocked from under it, and, as if with one thrust of the fatal knife, we would deal the death blow to our morality, to our domestic happiness, to our commercial integrity, to our peaceful relationships, to our educational and chart-table institutions.
There are wives and mothers, who stand with lacerated hearts at the open grave and see the light of their life extinguished beneath the cruel clods, and yet, they bear up bravely, resting their bent forms and supporting their tottering feet on the staff of hope and trust which the Bible affords. Take that solace from them, and you may soon have occasion to bury the wife next to her husband, and the mother next to her child. There are husbands who, when sitting lonely, dependent, in the circle of their motherless, weeping children, find the good old Book the only comforter; take it from them and you drive them to the madhouse or to suicide. There are maidens grieving, pining, their hearts broken, their lives blighted, their career irretrievably blasted; take the solace from them which this book breathes into their withered hearts, the solace that suffering innocence will be recompensed, that a God of justice rules, take that solace from them and you have taken all that makes life bearable. There are millions of people pining in bondage, toiling in obscurity, suffering physically and mentally for no crime of their own, sick and hungry, friendless and hopeless; take the book from them that teaches them the lesson of patient endurance, and you may write the word Finis, and close the records of civilization forevermore. It is the one book that has a balm for every wound, a comfort for every tear, a ray of light for every darkness.
Its language all people can understand, its spirit all minds can grasp, its moral laws all people can obey, its truths appeal not only to the lowly and simple, but also to the highest intellect, they win the spontaneous approval, not only of the pious, but also of the most skeptical. At a literary gathering at the house of the Baron von Holbach, where the most celebrated atheists of the age used to assemble, the gentlemen present were one day commenting on the absurd and foolish things with which the Bible abounds. The French encyclopedist, Diderat, a materialist himself, startled his friends by his little speech: "But it is wonderful, gentlemen, it is wonderful. I know of no man who can speak or write with such ability. I do not believe that any of you could compose such narratives, or could have laid down such sublime moral laws, so simple, yet so elevating, exerting so wide an influence for good, and awakening such deep and such reverential feelings, as does the Bible." Diderat spoke the truth. Place the most celebrated systems of philosophies or the most famous code of ethics, into the hands of the masses, and see whether the subtleties of their learning, the elegance of their diction will touch their hearts as deeply as does the Bible. All the genius and learning of the ancient world, all the penetration of the profoundest philosophers, have never been able to produce a book that was as widely read, as voluminously commented on, as dearly loved, as this book, neither have all the law-givers of all the lands, and of all ages, been able to produce a code of law and ethics that was universally and as implicitly followed as that of the law-giver, Moses.
The Bible is an emblem of Odd-Fellowship, because it is the Odd-Fellows' text-book. Here we get our doctrines for faith and our rules for practice in all the relations of life. As Odd-Fellows, we believe the Bible is the word of God, because in their enmity humanity has never been able to destroy it or rob it of its power; nor have any who reject it given us a book to take its place. The intellect and culture of our day can not improve the teachings of Christ, nor set before us a nobler ideal life. As Odd-Fellows, we believe in this beautiful emblem, because our hearts attest its truth. We need not be told that the landscape is beautiful, or that the song of birds is sweet. When we see the one and hear the other, we know it. As the eye discerns the beautiful, and the ear discerns sweet sounds, so the heart of man discerns the divineness of the Bible teachings and sets its seal to their truth. As Odd-Fellows, we believe in the scriptures, because the experiences of all true believers, of whatever name, or age, or country, prove it to be the "bread of life" and the "water of life" to a needy and suffering world. Age by age the evidence of experience is accumulating, and growing stronger, and for a soul to distrust the revelations made unto it, and the divine leading of the human race, is as though the eye should disbelieve in the sun shining at mid-day. We recognize the Bible as a precious boon to man, the gift of the Great Father above. It is a "light to our feet and a lamp to our path." It is a compass whose never-failing needle directs us safely across the desert sands of life, and through the dark labyrinths of an evil world, and its precious promises gives us comfort while we bear the burdens and endure the sorrows, pain and anguish incident to human life.
Since our organization is founded on the Bible, we should, as Odd-Fellows, become more conversant with it. Many evils creep into our lodges that could be avoided if we used the Bible more in our talks for the good of the order. Intemperance is an evil that does us much harm. What does the Bible say in regard to it? Proverbs, xx, 1, says: "Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging, and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise." Proverbs, xxi, 17: "He that loveth pleasure shall be a poor man; he that loveth wine and oil shall not be rich." Ah me! what dead courage, what piles of bleached bones that was once the concentration of all that was great and lofty and true. What aspirations, ambitions, enterprise and resolutions—what genius, integrity and all that belongs to true manhood—have been swept from the tablets of time into oblivion by King Alcohol and his horrid half brothers, the gambling hell and the brothel.
A few years ago a noted wild-beast tamer gave a performance with his pets in one of the leading theatres. He put his lions, tigers, leopards and hyenas through their part of the entertainment, awing the audience by his awful nerve and his control over them. As a closing act to the performance, he was to introduce an enormous boa-constrictor, thirty feet long. He had bought it when it was only two days old, and for twenty years he handled it daily, so that it was considered perfectly harmless and completely under his control. He had seen it grow from a tiny reptile, which he often carried in his bosom, into a fearful monster. The curtain rose upon an Indian woodland scene. The wild, weird strains of an oriental band steal through the trees. A rustling noise is heard, and a huge serpent is seen winding its way through the undergrowth. It stops. Its head is erect. Its bright eyes sparkle. Its whole body seems animated. A man emerges from the heavy foliage. Their eyes meet. The serpent quails before the man—man is victor. The serpent is under control of a master. Under his guidance and direction it performs a series of fearful feats. At a signal from the man it slowly approaches him and begins to coil its heavy folds around him. Higher and higher do they rise, until man and serpent seem blended into one. Its hideous head is reared above the mass. The man gives a little scream, and the audience unite in a thunderous burst of applause, but it freezes upon their lips. The trainer's scream was a wail of death agony. Those cold, slimy folds had embraced him for the last time. They crushed the life out of him, and the horror-stricken audience heard bone after bone crack as those powerful folds tightened upon him. Man's playful thing had become his master. His slave for twenty years had now enslaved him.
The following is a will left by a drunkard of Oswego, New York State: "I leave to society a ruined character and a wretched example. I leave to my parents as much sorrow as they can, in their feeble state, bear. I leave to my brothers and sisters as much shame and mortification as I could bring on them. I leave to my wife, a broken heart—a life of shame. I leave to each of my children, poverty, ignorance, a low character, and the remembrance that their father filled a drunkard's grave." It behooves us as Odd-Fellows to ponder well the lessons taught by our order. Unless the principles that are laid down are fully carried out, we can never be Odd-Fellows in spirit and in truth. Today is our opportunity; act now. Have you ever seen those marble statues fashioned into a fountain, with the clear water flowing out from the marble lips or the hand, on and on forever? The marble stands there, passive, cold, making no effort to arrest the gliding water. So it is that time flows through the hands of men, swift, never pausing until it has run itself out, and the man seems petrified into a marble sleep, not feeling what it is that is passing away forever. And the destiny of nine men out of ten accomplishes itself before they realize it slipping away from them, aimless, useless, until it is too late. "Be such a man, live such a life, that if every man were such as you, and every life a life like yours, this earth would be God's Paradise."
Remember that no good the humblest of us has wrought ever dies. There is one long, unerring memory in the universe, out of which nothing dies. A chill autumn wind, blowing over a sterile plain, bore within its arms a little seed, torn with ruthless force from its matrix on a lofty tree, and dropped the seed upon the sand to perish. A bright winged beetle, weary with flight and languid with the chilly air, rested for a moment on the arid plain. The little seed dropped Aeolus served to satisfy the hunger of the beetle, which presently winged its flight to the margin of a swift running stream that had sprung from the mountain side, and cleaving a bed through rocks of granite, went gaily laughing upon its cheery way down to the ever rolling sea. Sipping a drop of the crystal flood, the beetle crawled within a protecting ledge, and, folding its wings, lay down to pleasant dreams. The Ice King passed along and touched the insect in its sleep. Its mission was fulfilled; but the conflict of the seasons continued until the white destroyer melted in the breath of balmy spring. And then a sunbeam sped to the chink wherein the body of the insect lay, and searching for the little seed entombed, but not destroyed, invited it to "join the Jubilee of returning life and hope." Under the soft wooing of the peopled ray, the little seed began to swell with joy, tiny rootlets were developed within the body of the protecting beetle, a minute stem shot out of its gaping mouth, and lo! a mighty tree had been carried from the desert, saved from the frosts of winter, nurtured and started upon its mission of life and usefulness by an humble insect that had perished with the flowers. The agent had passed away, but, building better than he knew, the wide-spreading tree remained by the margin of the life-giving stream, a shelter and a rest to the weary traveler upon life's great highway through many fretful centuries.
A child abandoned by its mother to perish in an Egyptian marsh may become the instrument to deliver a nation from bondage, and an unostentatious man, unknown to fortune and to fame, may become the agent of a mighty work destined to benefit the human race as long as it may last upon the earth. George Eliot says, "Our deeds are like children that are born to us; they live and act apart from our own will. Nay, children may be strangled, but deeds never; they have an indestructible life, both in and out of our consciousness."
No man has come to true greatness who has not felt in some degree that his life belongs to his race, and that what God gives him he gives him for mankind. The different degrees of consciousness are really what make the different degrees of greatness in men.
While Odd-Fellowship does not claim to be a religious institution, yet so closely is it allied to Christianity that we deem it proper to discuss these questions. I quote from Dr. Lyman Abbott's lecture on "Christianity and Orientalism," as follows: "Religion as a thought has four questions to answer: First, What is God? Second, What is man? Third, What is the relation between God and man? Fourth, What is the life which man is to live when he understands and enters into that relation? There is no other question; there is nothing left. What is God? What is man? And how are men to live when they have entered into that relationship? Now, Christianity has its answer to each one of those four questions. God—one true, righteous, loving, helpful Father of the whole human race. God—love. And love, what is that? Such a life as Jesus Christ lived on the earth. What is man? Man is in the image of God. If he is not, if he fails in that, he fails being a man. He is in the image of God, and not until he has come to be in the image, of God will he be a man. What is a statue? I can see a nose, a mouth, appearing out of the marble block. No, it is not a statue, it is a half-done statue. Wait until the sculptor is through, then you will see the statue. Not till God is done will you see a man, and you never saw one except as you saw him in Jesus of Nazareth. And what is the relation between this God and this man? It is the relationship of the most intimate fellowship that the human soul can conceive; one life dwelling in the other life, and filling the other life full of His own fullness. You can not get any closer relationship to God than that. When this fullness has been realized, when you and I have the fullness of God in us, when God has finished, the man life will result. Just such a life as Christ lived, with all the splendor of self-sacrifice, with all the glory of service, with all the magnificent heroism, with all the enduring patience."
Being invited some time since to deliver an address before a benevolent institution, and being pressed amid the daily business cares which surrounded, I was fearful I should not be able to command sufficient time for preparation of the task. Returning home, I retired to my bed, my thoughts still keeping themselves in active motion in their endeavor to "think out" what I should say. In this state of mind I fell asleep, and soon was in dreamland. I dreamed that death had taken place, and as I approached the gates of the unseen world, I was met by an angel, who kindly tendered his services in escorting me through the realms of Heaven. Being a stranger there, I gladly and gracefully accepted his kind invitation. Proceeding along the pearly streets, enraptured with the beauties which surrounded me, I saw a multitude of people, the number of whom figures fail to compute; but I noticed there were dividing lines, and they were gathered in companies. Observing a beautiful body of water in the distance, and a gathering of one company by its banks, I inquired of my escort who they were. He replied they were Baptists, and said "they always keep near the water's edge." Just beyond was another company, which my faithful attendant informed me was a Presbyterian band, and that their infant baptism views still clinging to them was one of the causes of their "corralling" together. Just then we heard loud and prolonged shouting and singing of the hymn "Shall we gather at the river," and, pointing to the spot from whence it came, near a beautiful stream not far off, the angel said: "Those are the Methodists. They never cease shouting, and so loud are they at times that they annoy the Episcopalians, whom you see on the opposite side of the stream, in their discussion of the doctrine of apostolic succession." Seeing still other gatherings farther on, I was anxious to go thither and mingle with them; but my guide remonstrated, saying: "You can see from this standpoint the representatives of all churches. There, said he, are the Catholics and the Jews, the Universalists and the Congregationalists, the Unitarians and the Moravians, all with their varied 'creeds,' and if you go that way you will be surrounded by them, each trying to prove that you got to Heaven through their peculiar doctrine or faith."
Turning to the right, we moved on, only to pass to more gorgeous and beautiful apartments, where the streets were golden. Here I observed another multitude, but it was one body. "This," said the angel, "is the gathering of the various priests and pastors, rectors and rabbis, and the ministers and the elders who are trying to unite on some common ground upon which their congregations (which we had passed) might stand, where there would be but 'One Lord, one faith, one baptism.'" Gal., iv, 5. For, said the angel, until then, they go not up with their churches and creeds to higher seats above, for "neither circumcision availeth anything, nor uncircumcision." Gal., v, 6.
Proceeding on our way we approached a magnificent archway, over the lintels of which was inscribed, "The Christian's Home in Glory." The grandeur of this new apartment exceeded all the rest, a description of which lies beyond the power of words, "For eye hath not seen, nor the ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them that love him." I Cor., ii, 9. This I found to be the abode of the apostles, martyrs and Christians of all ages. Here was Paul and Peter, and the prophets, the thief on the cross and Bunyan, Lazarus and Baxter, Stephen and Father Abraham, Martha and Mary and the widow who gave her two mites. Pausing, I beheld, with banners above, an innumerable number "marching on," with Lincoln and Lovejoy, Lyman, Beecher and John Brown in the advance, and on the banners was inscribed, "These are they which came out of great tribulation." Rev., viii, 14. The angel said: "That is the multitude of poor slaves from the cotton fields of earth, doing homage to their deliverers." "They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat." Rev., vii, 16. Here I also found Watts and Wesley singing, while Bliss (who had but lately been translated from earth to heaven by way of Ashtabula bridge), catching the inspiration, was setting the songs of Heaven to the music of earth. Gazing on the many thrones and crowns, there were some of peculiar brightness. I looked on one, and what was the inscription? Was it, I was a Methodist? No. I was immersed? No. I was a Jew? No. But rather this: "Because I delivered the poor that cried and fatherless, and him that had none to help him, the blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me, and I caused the widow's heart to sing with joy." Job, xxix, 12, 14. And this was the crown of Job. And there was another just beyond, and I read the inscription. Was it, I was a Presbyterian? No. I prayed by quantity? No. I was a Universalist? No. But "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and the widow in their affliction and to keep himself unspotted from the world." James, i, 27. And while the memory and name of Peabody, the philanthropist, is and shall be honored and loved for ages to come in two hemispheres, his crown of glory in heaven is second to none. But there was still another. It was worn by one of queenly beauty, and she sat upon her throne; the splendor of her robe and the brilliancy of her apparel dimmed my vision. I read her inscription, set, as it was, in Heaven's choicest diamonds. Was it, I was an Episcopalian? No. I was baptized? No. I was a Catholic? No. But thus: "I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in; naked, and ye clothed me; I was sick, and ye visited me; I was in prison, and ye came unto me." Matt., xxv, 35, 36. And before her throne stood thousands who had come up from the battle fields of the Crimea, and the widows and orphans, the lame and the halt, the blind and the deaf from the streets and alleys of London, and as they shouted their hallelujahs before her, they carried banners on which were emblazoned these words: "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." Matt., xxv, 40. And the crown of Florence Nightingale glistens brightly in Heaven. Passing on, and observing a large number of vacant thrones and crowns, I naturally asked, for whom are these? The angel replied: "For the Christians of earth; the managers of the 'homes' for the friendless, the widows and the orphans, and those who, regardless of their respective church creeds and doctrines, like their Master when he was on earth, go about doing good." The angel vanished, and I awoke.
MORAL.—Brethren, in our tenacity for church creeds, let us not fail in the practice of a little daily Christianity. "Finally, brethren, if there be any virtue and if there be any praise, think on these things." Gal., iv, 8.
Though sophists may argue, or philosophers prate,The evils of lying they can not mitigate.Our God's law is truth! Who then dares justifyA falsehood? Remember, a lie is a lie!Let this he our motto, in old age or youth:"All lying is sinful, so, stick to the truth!"
"Truth we accept as a cardinal virtue, and require its practice on the part of all the votaries of Odd-Fellowship while traveling the rugged journey of life in search of reward and rest." Truth is above all things else, and every Odd-Fellow knows full well that his obligation binds him to speak the truth. Remember a lie is never justifiable. It does the person more harm than that he seeks to avoid by telling a falsehood would do. "What is truth?" This question of Pilate is in the air today. It is repeated on every side and in every department of intellectual pursuit. It always pays to tell the truth under all circumstances. Abraham came near bringing a whole nation into trouble in lying about his wife. Be it said to the honor of President Grant, that once a visitor called at the White House wishing to see him. The door-keeper told the servant to tell the visitor the president was not in. General Grant, who was very busy, heard what was said. He called out, "Say no such thing. I don't lie myself, and won't allow anyone to lie for me." Tell the truth always. "I said in my haste all men are liars." Psalms, cxvi, 2.
It was a very sweeping assertion that the Psalmist made, and one that incriminates us all. He probably did not mean that all men were liars in the sense that everybody always spoke untruthfully, but that the great majority of people would, under certain stress of circumstances, equivocate to suit the conditions of the occasion. If that was what he meant, he uttered a sage truth when he said very hastily one day: "All men are liars." Though a hasty utterance, facts seem to prove its truthfulness. The greatest mischief-maker in the world today is the liar. I honestly believe that lying causes more real anguish and suffering than any other evil. It would be effort wasted to spend much time in proof of this assertion of David's, so we will attempt to classify briefly, that each of us may know where he belongs. First, there is the deliberate lie. This species needs no particular definition. All are acquainted with it, all have met it, some have uttered it. You all know it when you see it; it is barefaced and shameless; it reeks with the mire of falsity and is foul with the slime of the pit infernal. This lie contains not an atom of truth, is tinctured not with a grain of fact, but is a full-blooded, thoroughbred, out and out lie. Then we have the campaign lie. A large, open-faced fellow, loud-voiced and blatant; bold, daring and sweeping; it claims everything, asserts everything, denies anything.
During the campaign this lie is a factor. Men buy papers to read it, and go miles to hear it. The campaign lie is the greatest worker in the canvass for votes. He pats the workman on the back and promises to fill his pail with sirloin steak and fresh salmon, when, if the other man is elected, he will have to carry liver and codfish. He grasps the merchant strongly by the hand and promises him larger sales and better profits in case his party gets into power; he enters the magnate's office and promises him increased dividends and no strikes; he promises everything till after election, when he has no more promises to make.
There is the polite lie, too. A very gentle affair this. A very proper lie, clothed with the attire of an elegant etiquette and of graceful form. It is never harsh and never rude, but smooth as oil, as gentle as a zephyr. The number of polite lies that are told every day are legion. It would be useless to attempt to classify them, worse than useless to try to enumerate them. They are of all sizes, colors, descriptions and shapes. They have much in common, but differ widely in particular. No locality is destitute of this venerable and classic falsehood. The ancients used it, the moderns still cling to it; the poor find it handy, the rich could not keep house without it; it abounds in every clime and thrives in every latitude. The polite hostess says to the departing guest: "We have been delighted by your visit; do us the favor to come again," when she sincerely hopes that most any catastrophe may overtake her rather than another visit from this same personage. There are the every-day expressions, 'Not at home,' which the housemaid is instructed to give the caller; and a score of other social lies which in truth deceive nobody, nine times out of ten. Society would lose little and gain much if the polite lie could be banished, and every man say what he thought and speak as he felt.
Another lie I will notice is the business lie. The business lie is a very matter of fact lie. It sounds well. There are some genuine bankrupt sales, of course; there are a few bona fide smoke, fire and water mark-downs undoubtedly, but there are more advertised in a week than there are failures and fires in a year. Good, staple merchandise will usually bring its value, and he who advertises an unheard of bargain has generally set a trap for the unwary. One class of goods in the window marked a certain price, an inferior class on the bargain counter at the same figure. You bargain for a piece of furniture at a surprisingly low figure; when it is delivered you have every reason to suppose that it is like what you bought in appearance alone. A roll of cloth marked "all wool," it is half cotton, and the rest shoddy. The business lie, though found so often, is never the friend of merchant or purchaser. It is the foe of all honest transactions. Office, salesroom and storehouse would be better without it; proprietor, clerk and purchaser would thrive better if rid of it.
The lie of gossip. If by some power, human or divine, the gossiping tongue could be silenced and the tattling mouth effectually closed, half of the evil of this world would already be stopped, and the other would commence to languish for want of patronage. The lie of gossip is the blackest of them all. The blackest of all the black horde, the very worst of the whole evil troop; insinuating, sly and crafty, it creeps around with a serpent's stealth, and carries beneath its tongue the deadly poison of ten thousand adders. The venom can be extracted from the cobra's fangs, but no power on earth can tame the tongue of an unprincipled gossip. Some lies you can kill, but the lie of gossip is imperishable. You may clip its wings, but its flight is unhindered; you may cut off its head, but two will grow out in its place; you may crush it to earth beneath the heel of denial. Let it alone and possibly the dirty, contemptible, infamous thing will die; touch it not and it may droop and languish; do not chase it and it may grow weak for want of exercise.
Oh, my dear reader, above all things, don't have your life a lie, your career a falsehood. Be no hypocrite, live no lie, and the God of all truth will see something in you to admire if you live truthfully and honestly before all men. Truth is a sure pledge not impaired, a shield never pierced, a flower that never dieth, a state that feareth no fortune, and a port that yields no danger. We can not build a manly character unless we are in possession of the imperial virtue, truth. Ah! truth is the diamond for which the candid mind ever seeks. It is the sanction of every appeal that is made for the good and the right. It may be crushed to earth, it may be long in achieving victory, but it is omnipotent and must triumph at last. Christ brought truth into the world. Truth, then, is a personal, experimental and practical thing. It is a thing of the heart, and not mere outward forms; a living principle in the soul, influencing the mind, employing the affections, guiding the will, and directing as well as enlightening the conscience. It is a supreme, not a subordinate matter, demanding and obtaining the throne of the soul-giving law to the whole character, and requiring the whole man and all his conduct to be in subordination. Truth blends with every occupation. It is noble and lofty, not abject, servile and groveling; it communes with God, with holiness, with Heaven, with eternity and infinity. Truth is a happy, and not a melancholy thing, giving a peace that passeth understanding, and a joy that is unspeakable and full of glory. And it is durable, not a transient thing, passing with us through life, lying down with us on the pillow of death, rising with us at the last day, and dwelling in our souls in Heaven as the very element of eternal life. Such is truth, the sublimest thing in our world, sent down to be our comforter and ministering angel on earth.
It is plainly God's intention, as in nature and in history, that our human life should grow better and more joyous as it advances, and that the best shall not be at the first, but shall wait until we are ready for it. The highest and largest blessings can come to men only when the men are fitted to hold and to use them. If you are going to give a man a purse or a diamond you can thrust it into his hand in his youth, or on the street, even when he is asleep; but if you would give to him a great truth or virtue, if you would make him a noble character, you must wait upon the man's growth, and be content if after many years you see only a flash of what you would give him appearing. Step by step, through all the gradations, we travel, and if faithful to truth, Christ will make in us a perfect manhood, and of us a perfect society. His gift is so great, vital and complex, that He can not bestow it all in the beginning. He would make our life an increasingly joyous life, and give us the best of its wine at the last of its feast. Christ would have us always increasingly hopeful and joyous, and never of sad countenance. All our faculties were designed to minister to our joy. All the great world of life below is a happy world. The children of the air and the water are all baptized into joy. Even the solitary creatures that carry their narrow houses with them have their joys, which are well known to their intimate acquaintances. So in the world of adult man we find the joy of life disproportionate to condition and faculty. In the faces of the men we meet on the streets we see many scars and dark lines of storm and care; only seldom do the faces we meet there wear the rainbow. Men are without joy because they have violated the laws of nature, they have subordinated their manly powers, reason and conscience to their animal instincts; they have lived by wrong theories and wrong methods, and for unmanly ends, and thus have exhausted the joy of life's banquet.
A man can have deep and continuous joy only if his life is continuously rational and progressively manly. He must put away childish things and live for truth and right, for love and immortal virtue. If our hearts sadden as our years increase and our thoughts widen, it is because there has been a defect in our vision and a sophistry in the logic of our conduct. If the growing corn comes only to the blade and to the ear, and not to the full golden corn in the ear, we may be sure it is because there has been something wrong in our gardening. Christ comes into our wasting life to give us a new, a higher and a better joy; to give us new truth, new faith, new arguments, new motives, new impulses and new joys. Christ gives us the Heavenly Father, and thus lifts us into the dignity and beatitude of a divine nature, relationship and destiny. Man is a child of the skies, and can not find rest complete and joy abiding in anything less or lower. Bearing now the image of the earthly, we must go on to bear the image of the heavenly. To have our manly joy ever increasing we must keep the heavenly in sight and take our way from it.
Christ brings us into the living alliance with forces and personalities that are spiritual, and thus makes us strong to resist all animal temptations and those impulses toward greed and wrong which, if indulged, drain our life of its manly felicities. He would have us lift our manly cups to God, and make their rims to touch the heavens. Christ would have us to live for other's welfare and to know the joy of duty and of sacrifice. It is the man who is living for wife, and child, and neighbor, who has flung himself with all his might into the carrying forward of some great cause that blesses his fellow-men, who knows the true and increasing joy of the manly life. The happiest woman in the world is the mother who is living for her child. It is in working out the salvation of other people that we find the true joy of our own. It is this joy that carries the martyr through his fiery tasks with a song and a shout. To be able at the end of our days to look up to God and say, "I have finished the work thou gavest me to do," is to have the best wine at the last of our feast. We must have joy; it is indispensable. It makes us healthy and strong and enables us to be of some use in the world. It is so necessary to our best becoming and doing that we must put away everything that increases it. We must have the joy of truth and virtue, of duty and sacrifice, of hope and love, which is the joy of the eternal life. Christ thus holds out to us a joy that lasts, and one that satisfies forever.
Jesus was no cynic, no ascetic, and no fanatic. He loved the great outward world, and was the friend of all men. He was hated only by the Pharisees, if to these He spoke sharply, His words to the children were sweet as a mother's, and in His words about the birds and the flowers you hear the tones of a lover. He loved the lakes of sweet Galilee, her hills, her fields and her olive groves; and among them often took His disciples apart to rest awhile. Adopt Christ's views of God; of the future; Christianize your opinions, your character and your conduct, and you will have manly joy even in the midst of sorrow. Christ lived much in communion with God. He lived much out of doors, in the fields and among trees, the birds and the flowers.
We must come back to nature. Happy the man who owns a piece of ground in the country and lives on it betimes, where he can hear the robins singing their hymns and the winds chanting their litanies; where he can see the sun rise and feel the hush of the hills; where the spirit that is in the beautiful world can touch and bless him as it did the blessed Christ.
Brothers, I wish you great joy. Live in the constant sense of the Heavenly Father's loving presence, and of nature's veracity and friendly intention. Distrust all doctrines, all opinions and all ways of living that destroy manly joyousness. Never lose sight of the fact that a noble life is a truthful life. Truth is a trust. He who has discovered any portion of useful truth has something in trust for mankind. God is the author of truth, and when man seeks this imperial virtue and acquires it, he is in possession of great power.
This brings us to the final practical thought. This power must be appropriated. The cable car that is unattached to the cable will make no progress and stand still forever, even though the engines in the power house glow with heat, and the cable, gliding along in the center of the track not two feet away, is laden down with power. The cable car must close its grappling iron and grip the cable before progress can be made. It must come in contact with the power. An electric lamp will swing dark and unlighted while all the other lamps about it send forth enlightening rays, and all the dynamos in the world may be revolving in the engine house, sending a surging current within a few inches of the isolated lamp, and all in vain unless it come in contact with the power. You must turn the switch and let the current flow in, and then the lamp will itself shine and will illumine its surroundings like the rest. So, in like manner, if we are to make progress in this life, we must lay hold of the cable. We must come in contact with the Divine. If we do not, the power of God is of no avail to us. If we would be lights in the world, we must come in contact with the Divine spirit, we must unbar the doors to our hearts and let the current of divine power and love flow into our lives and illumine them.
The great design of Odd-Fellowship is to improve the morals and manners of men, to promote their interest, well being and happiness. Great prudence is demanded in our daily life and conversation. We should be actuated by a realizing sense of our position, and by example, action and generous thought, recommend our cause to the consideration of others. We should persevere for the attainment of every commendable virtue, to raise the mind from the degrading haunts of intemperance and folly; we should be distinguished for usefulness to society and the community at large. A good Odd-Fellow must necessarily be an upright and useful member of the community. The precepts inculcated are calculated to stimulate to the faithful performance of every moral and relative duty; and an individual who holds a standing with us, and is careless and negligent of these things, is a reproach to the Order—they wear the livery, and bow before the same shrine, but in the heart and practice they belie their profession. Profanity, intemperance and every species of immorality are rigidly discountenanced. We have pledged ourselves to aid in diffusing the principles of brotherly love throughout the world. We have assumed the office of guarding the holy flame which burns on the altar of benevolence, and we are bound to cherish its principles. That brother is recreant to every honorable feeling who can trifle with the solemn pledge he has taken.
A duty we owe to the community is to cultivate the principle of virtue, to lend holy serenity to the mind, and shed around a halo of light and glory to direct the steps of others in virtue, to happiness and greatness. The man who treads only in virtue's ways, when every act is honest, acquires the confidence and friendship of others, thus benefiting others, and thus benefiting the community, which, also, the center of another circle, continues this influence to those that surround it, purifying the thought, emboldening the idea and elevating the man. How grand is the position Odd-Fellowship now occupies—a world of honesty in a world of deceit, with a character strictly virtuous and solely dependent upon its members for the perpetuity of that character.
It depends upon the brethren to be virtuous, upright, honest and benevolent, thus sustaining in its purity the noble reputation it now enjoys, which will continue a bright and shining star in the constellation until time shall be no more, when it will be perpetuated in the glorious light of eternity. Amid the wrecks of institutions and powerful interests that were a short time since thought to be impregnable against all assaults, the Independent Order of Odd-Fellows still maintains its vantage ground, and bears its banners proudly up. With its doors thrown so widely open to applicants for admission, composed as it is of nearly every shade of thought or educational influence, whether of sect or party, with all the infirmities incident to human nature, modifying by their weakness its true purposes, or retarding its advancement, its unity and moral force, its stability and progress are truly wonderful. Its bond of cohesion, so frail and yet so potent, is seemingly inexplicable. It is the recognition of the principles of brotherhood and fraternity, and the practice of their resultant virtues. To appreciate and practice is to attain strength. We are weak and frail. Odd-Fellowship is strong, and its principles are as eternal as the stars. The history of the past is little but a record of the domination of physical force. The law of might was the law of right. Violence and strife, outrages and wrong, have been for ages the common heritage of the race. Man has been the sport and victim of human passions, and notwithstanding the culture and the progress of the race, the earth yet resounds with the tread of armed combatants. Weary, sad-eyed toilers groan under the burden of war, countless millions are squandered upon the maintenance of non-producing, destructive hosts.
Widows and orphans, nay, the very angels in heaven, if they are permitted to look down upon us from their bright abodes in bliss, must mourn over the sad result of man's semi-barbarism, and his worship of the world's materialism. Long ere this mind should have been the controlling force in all nations claiming to be civilized. Pure intellect and its struggles, its aspirations for light and truth, should have relegated to the regions of barbarism and darkness mere animal contests. Not only so, but intellectual supremacy should have been in its turn subordinated, or crowned by true spiritual life. "God is a spirit, and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth." Man would occupy a higher and happier position than he at present fills if he had earnestly co-operated with good agencies for the unfolding and development of his better nature.
The special mission of Odd-Fellowship is to incite and stimulate the dormant moral energies to action, to rouse the lethargic, encourage the timid, and to strengthen the aspirations for a nobler and a better life. Reaching out its helpful hand to the needy and distressed upon the one hand, and with the other battling with selfishness, intolerance and vice—with all that dwarfs man's moral nature—it appeals to something within us, to be earnest advocates of its principles, by making them a living faith and illustrating its beneficent purposes. If we make one man purer and better, and that man one's own self, we have done something toward the betterment of the world. The voices of the past and of the present all speak to us today. Men and brethren, let us hearken unto them, and putting our trust in God, let us march onward, side by side together, until the standards of our order are planted upon the highest summit of achievement, and as their glorious folds are illuminated by the Sun of Righteousness, may the simple yet the sublime legend emblazoned thereon be seen and acknowledged by the nations, as with uplifted eyes and reverent hearts they read, "God is our Father, and we are all brothers."
Genuine love and sympathy are what wins the hearts of our fellows.
A Christian ought always to wake up in the morning in a good humor.
Remember that sorrow and pain soften the heart and sweeten the temper.
The young man who sees no beauty in a flower will make a mean husband.
If you love young people's work you will prove it by laboring and sacrificing for it.
Begin active work in your society at once, and do not fail to see that each one has something to do.
The fact that God gives any consideration to mere mites of humanity scattered about the surface of this little world of ours is conclusive proof of His infinity.
What a blessing it is that we can not always do what we wish to do, or have everything our own way.
Many words are no more an indication of depth of feeling and heart than are boiling bubbles in a frying pan.
There are some people who would scorn to keep bad company, but who think the worst kind of thoughts by the hour.
Do not wait for somebody else to put your society on the roll of honor.If you want a thing well done, do it yourself.
If the very hairs of our head are numbered, then why should we not consult the Father in regard to all our temporal affairs?
How the heart of God must yearn for the record of lives devoted to humanity. He asks no higher service of man than this.
The truly great man is that one who is satisfied if he is doing to the utmost limit of his capacity the thing which he has at hand.
God would never make the mistake of helping any young man or young woman who did not make every possible effort to help himself.
Do not make the mistake of thinking you are the biggest man in your society. Bigger men than you have died and have not been missed after forty-eight hours.
The girl who is caught by gold-headed canes, carried by heads with no brains on the inside and only pasted hair on the outside, has a pitiable future before her.
No pain, no privation, no sacrifice endured for Christ is a loss, but is rather a gain. Christ will not forget those who suffered for Him when He comes to make up His jewels.
Sunday manners are just like Sunday clothes; everybody can tell that you put them on for the occasion only, and know that you are not used to wearing them through the week.
The devil led the Prodigal Son away from a good home into the gay society of the world, and amused him with the pleasures of sin till he got him down, then he fed him on husks. That is the way he works.
A good many church members do not like to have it known how much they give for missions. They remind us of the man who said, when asked about the amount he gave, "What I give is nothing to nobody."
The reason why some people do not want the preacher to preach on personal sins, is because they are afraid he might say something against them.
When we see a man going to get water at his neighbor's well, we naturally suppose his own is dry. So when we see a Christian seeking the pleasures of the world, we suppose he no longer finds pleasure in religion.
To know which way a stream of water is flowing, you must not look at the little eddy, but at the main current, and to know which way a life is tending, you must not look at a single act, but at the whole trend of the life.
Satan likes to discourage people, to hinder them in the performance of their Christian duties, but remember that Christ has said, "My grace is sufficient for you." Go steadily forward in the line of duty and success will crown your efforts.
The light of a candle can not be seen very far in the light of a noon-day sun, but at night it may be seen for a long distance and may be a guiding star to some poor wanderer. And so, God sometimes darkens our way that we may shine.
The man who prays for the conversion of the heathen, and then spends a great deal more for tobacco than he gives to missions, is certainly not very consistent in his praying and giving.
Thomas Hood once wrote to his wife: "I never was anything, dearest, till I knew you; and I have been a better, happier, and more prosperous man ever since. Lay by that truth in lavender, sweetest, and remind me of it when I fail."
"I believe one reason why such numerous instances of erudition occur among the lower ranks is, that with the same powers of mind the poor student is limited to a narrower circle for indulging his passion for books, and must necessarily make himself master of the few he possesses before he can acquire more."—Walter Scott.
Christians should not forget that God uses human agency in the work of salvation. The only reason that there are not more saved, is because the people of God do not put themselves at his disposal for the work. The Lord wants all to be saved, but they will not be saved until the people of God are willing to let the Lord use them to bring the lost unto Himself.
Deceit and falsehood, whatever conveniences they may for a time promise or produce, are, in the sum of life, obstacles to happiness. Those who profit by the cheat distrust the deceiver; and the act by which kindness was sought puts an end to confidence.
The judges of the election can not tell the difference, when they are counting the votes, between the one cast by the minister of the gospel and the one cast by the saloon-keeper, when it has been cast for the same party. Vote for principle rather than for party.
"Let every man," said Sydney Smith, "be occupied in the highest employment of which his nature is capable, and die with the consciousness that he has done his best." If the highest employment is not to be found in our avocations, let us seek it in our leisure.
Beware of anger of the tongue; control the tongue. Beware of anger of the mind; control the mind. Practice virtue with thy tongue and with thy mind. By reflection, by restraint and control, a wise man can make himself an island which no floods can overwhelm. He who conquers himself is greater than he who in battle conquers a thousand men. He who is tolerant with the intolerant, mild with the fault-finders, and free from passion with the passionate, him I call indeed a wise man.
Brothers, keep posted in what your lodge is doing; knowing who is sick; inquire if there is not some widow in need of help; some poor orphan that should be clothed and provided with a home and sent to school. Remember that the widow was your brother's wife, and the children your brother's. Be a brother to the widow, and a kind uncle to your brother's children. There is plenty of work for you, and you agreed to do it. Cheer up the care-worn traveler on his pilgrimage—help the weak and weary, the lonely and sad ones. Time is passing by, and we have none too much of it in which to do our work. Remember that if we expect to complete our labor, now is the time; soon all will be over with us, and then all that we shall leave behind, by which to be remembered, will be the good or evil we have done. If we have done good it will be emblazoned on many hearts, and our names will be spoken of with reverence and love; but if we have done evil, our names will be blotted out of the memory of the good and true, and we despised.
"How is't the sons of men are sad,Oppressed with grief and care?How is't that some of this world's goods,Have such a scanty share?Why should the orphan's piercing cry,Assail so oft our ear,And thousands find the world to beAll desolate and drear?
"We do not solve the mysteryOf woes, the lot of man,But in the lodge we all uniteTo do the good we can.'Tis there we learn the pleasing taskTo soothe the troubled breast,To educate the orphan child,And succor the distressed.
"Our motto—Friendship, Love and Truth—These e'er shall be our guide,Our aim shall be, of miseryTo stop the running tide."
We ask not what's a brother's faith,What country gave him birth;But open the door to every creedAnd nation of the earth.
Hail, Charity! Odd-Fellows allBow down before thy shrine;They raise no altar, make no vow,That is not wholly thine.