THE HEART BUSY WITH THINGS ABOUT US.
BY JOSEPHINE POLLARD.
The eye may be trained so that it can detect the least flaw in a diamond; the ear be so delicately attuned that the slightest variation in the harmony will be perceptible, although there is no apparent attempt at listening, and discord will have the same effect on the sensitive nerves, as a blow on a fine strung instrument. The engineer can not see all the working parts of his engine, so he is obliged to cultivate his ear until each throb, plunge, and revolution is familiar to him, and the whole set to a rhythmic movement, any change in which betokens disaster.
An eye quick to see, and an ear quick to hear may belong to a wide-awake, successful business man; but in order to become a philanthropist, a wise, energetic, live Christian, he must have a heart to feel. A father may see that his children are poorly clad, may hear their cries of distress, but if he has no heart to feel their needs, he will go off and leave them to the care of charity, as so many fathers, and mothers too, have been known to do.
This inclination to avoid cares, to shirk responsibilities, and to live a purely selfish life, is the result of a defect in the cardiac region, which might have been corrected in early youth.
The training of the heart begins at so early an age that it can not be known with certainty just when the child is first acted upon by the influences around it, and it is more easily misdirected than guided aright.
An accomplished lady, of considerable literary fame, spent a great deal of time in preparing a lecture on “Individual Sovereignty,” which was to prove that children had rights that parents and guardians ought to respect. The lecture was delivered but once, to a very small number of people who, while full of admiration and respect for the lecturer, were not in favor of putting her theories into practice, believing that a monarchy such as she proposed would make the Land of Liberty a place that grown people would want to get away from.
The great bond of brotherhood is sympathy. “Pity and need make all flesh kin,” and “sympathy is especially a Christian’s duty.” But there is an active sympathy and there is a passive sympathy; the one sits down and broods over the calamities of life, wrings its hands, sheds tears, and sighs over its own incapacity; while the other is up and doing all it can to relieve the necessities of those perhaps less heavily burdened than itself.
“It is not all of life to live,” nor all of life to love either; for some in their excessive fondness will allow those whom they might control, to walk in evil ways and indulge in unlawful passions without putting forth a restraining hand.
“I want John to have a good time,” says the indulgent mother. “I don’t want Jennie to tire herself, or to soil her hands doing housework. What else am I good for?” So John grows to be a selfish, disagreeable man, and Jennie an ease-loving, self-satisfied woman, both with hearts incapable of feeling any interest in anything that does not immediately affect their physical comfort and well-being. Mothers, do not spoil your children and destroy the foundations of character. Let them wait upon you and do your errands; teach them to cultivate a self-sacrificing spirit, to feel that it is no hardship to give up their own personal comfort in order to secure the happiness of others. The sacrifices should not be all on one side; and yet we have known mothers to give up their lives rather than disappoint the children, who must have their wishes gratified at any expense.
Exacting children should be made to wait upon themselves, and to practice patience and self-denial; for the tyrannical spirit is fostered by unwise timidity and forbearance, and many a passionate man and woman lives to regret the lack of proper discipline in youth. But it lies within ourselves to correct mistakes that may have been made in our training; and it has been truthfully said, “Every person has two educations, one which he receives from others, and one, more important, which he gives to himself.”
It is astonishing how much may be accomplished by one who is energetic and persevering, careful to avail himself of all opportunities, and to use all the spare time at his disposal. Ancient and modern histories and biographies are full of illustrations showing the benefits conferred upon mankind by certain individuals whose hearts were busy with the things about them. It is interesting to read this record of General Gordon—or “Chinese Gordon,” as he is familiarly called—whose valiant deeds have won him undying fame:
From 1865 to 1875 Gordon lived at Gravesend, employed in the duty of improving the defenses of the Thames. These were his six years of quiet peace and beneficent happiness. “He lived wholly for others,” writes his friend. “His house was school and hospital and almshouse, in turn; was more like the abode of a missionary than of a commanding officer of engineers. The troubles of all interested him alike. The poor, the sick, the unfortunate, were ever welcome, and never did suppliant knock vainly at his door. He always took great delight in children, but especially in boys employed on the river or the sea. Many he rescued from the gutter, cleansed them and clothed them, and kept them for weeks in his house. For their benefit he established reading-classes, over which he himself presided, reading to and teaching the lads with as much ardor as if he were leading them to victory. He called them his ‘kings,’ and for many of them he got berths on board ships. One day a friend asked him why there were so many pins stuck into the map of the world over his mantlepiece; he was told that they marked and followed the course of the boys on their voyages; that they were moved from point to point as his youngsters advanced, and that he prayed for them as they went, night and day. The light in which he was held by those lads was shown by inscriptions in chalk on the fences. A favorite legend was ‘God bless the Kernel!’ So full did his classes at length become that the house would no longer hold them, and they had to be given up. Then it was that he attended and taught at the Ragged Schools, and it was a pleasant thing to watch the attention with which his wild scholars listened to his words.”
The workhouse and the infirmary, writes another, were his constant haunts, and of pensioners he had a countless number. Many of the dying sent for him in preference to the clergyman, and he was ever ready to visit them. His purse was always empty because of his free-handedness, and he even sent some of his medals to the melting-pot in the cause of charity.
When another appointment removed him from Gravesend, there was universal regret. The local newspaper paid him the following graceful and sincere tribute: “By general and continual beneficence to the poor, he has been so unwearied in well-doing that his departure will be felt by numbers to be a personal calamity. His charity was essentially charity, and had its root in deep philanthropic feeling and goodness of heart; shunning the light of publicity, but coming even as the rain in the night-time, that in the morning is noted not, but only the flowers bloom and give a greater fragrance. All will wish him well in his new sphere, and we have less hesitation in penning these lines from the fact that laudatory notice will confer but little pleasure upon him who gave with the heart and cared not for commendation.”
Military glory pales before this display of missionary zeal.
In order to achieve any success the heart must be in the work, and from this center of our being all true Christian culture must begin. Every one can make his own destiny, and
“Taught by time the heart has learned to glow
For others good, and melt at other’s woe.”
It is good to indulge the habit of looking out of ourselves, to study the ways and needs of others, and to keep the heart busy with things about us—the trifles, as they are considered, which are apt to be overlooked or made light of. For there is great danger that the small philanthropies and courtesies of life will be neglected because of the large schemes that are so absorbing. This kind of outlook requires, of course, a certain amount of insight, or intuition, without which we can not bring ourselves into sympathetic relations, or prove ourselves the friend of humanity.
Our home, the place where we spend the most of our time, should be the field in which to exercise our best gifts, wherein we both sow and reap, and which is left to us to brighten and beautify, or to darken and disgrace. The heart renewed by grace is zealous of good works, fond of home, and anxious to do its full duty therein. It has a word of cheer for those who are cast down; it comforts the sick; speaks tenderly to those in trouble; has patience with the erring; seeks out ways of interesting the young; is mindful of the aged, and helpful to everybody.
“A heart at leisure from itself,
To soothe and sympathize,”
need never want for an opportunity; and it is often the small attentions, the unconsidered trifles, that are most highly valued.
The heart that begins its labors in too wide a sphere will find it hard to concentrate its interests, while a more gradual expansion will result in more satisfactory work, and the strengthening of the magnetic current, for on our personal magnetism depends, to a great extent, our influence on those with whom we associate. What responsibilities rest upon fathers and mothers, on sisters and brothers! How much good and how much evil they can do in their special fields of operation! That son needs a little wholesome correction from the father, a few kind words may be all that is requisite, but the father is busy about other affairs, his heart is interested in things outside of his family, and the boy slips downward for want of a restraining hand. That girl would have turned out, oh! so differently, if she had only had the right kind of a mother. Some boys and girls are not fit to be left to themselves. They seem to be born without any inward monitor, or strong moral sense. The germ may be there, but it has never been properly cultivated.
At a school examination the question was put, “What is conscience?” But one pupil could give the definition, “An inward monitor.”
“What is your idea of an inward monitor?” asked the inspector, and away down at the lower end of the room a hand was stretched forth, and a voice proclaimed, “It’s an iron-clad, sir!” So it is. Fortified to resist evil, but to assist good; and a “tender conscience,” to keep up the nautical figure, is the small convoy that supplies the soul with spiritual sustenance.
A conscience alive to duty will serve as an electrical alarm to notify us what is to be done and when and how we are to do it. If you have sick neighbors, and can not conveniently call upon them yourself, send to inquire how they are and in what way you can be of service. An offering of fruit or flowers will often be most acceptable to invalids or their families, who are cheered and sustained by the thought that other hearts are sympathizing with them. Keep down your own sensitiveness, and learn to make generous allowance for other people. Show that your zeal is not of the offensive sort, that your politeness is deep and genuine, that “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh,” and you will always be on good terms with your neighbors, and with yourself.
There is a variety of ways of helping people, and no two people may be helped in precisely the same way. The most deserving are the most modest, and it may take considerable study and observation for you to discover that Mrs. Needlewise, whose children always look so neat and well dressed, would be thankful for the cast-off clothes which are taking up the room in your garret, or which you give away recklessly just for the sake of getting rid of them. Mrs. Needlewise would be offended at your offering her the garments, but friendliness, and the exercise of a little tact, will remove the barriers and enable you to relieve anxieties that were a continual burden.
A dear, good woman whose heart was always open to the necessities of those about her, was in her old age given to somewhat erratic impulses. One morning, much to the mortification of her family, she seized the coffee-pot and went into a near neighbor’s, a poor but proud little woman, who would go without rather than beg. The old lady, in her sweet way, said to the farmer’s wife that it was a pity to waste so much good coffee, and she had brought it over for her to use. The gift was accepted with a smile, and to please the old lady the coffee was used by the good man of the house, who sent word that he had never tasted any quite so delicious, and should be glad to be so favored again. It was the entering wedge of neighborly kindness, and the beginning of better days for the poor family whose fortunes at that period were at a low ebb. The right kind of a lift at the right time will put human nature on its feet, and reëstablish the foundations that were in danger of giving way.
O, the magnetizing power of love! beginning first with the love of Christ, and then reaching out toward all our fellow-creatures! How wide spreading, how far-reaching in its influences! Home missions, foreign missions, small charities or large ones, incidental acts of kindness, thoughtful consideration for the welfare of others, all that a self-sacrificing spirit can do is done cheerfully and without hope of reward.
A saintly young woman whose earthly pilgrimage ended at thirty-four, is thus eulogized by the pastor of the church for which she labored lovingly and assiduously: “She gave out so much to others that she has left herself broken in fragments here and there, and you and I hold this or that fragment so really that we are only hardly persuaded to acknowledge that there is an end of her earthly life for a time. How simply, purely and patiently that life was lived, you know.… Many and many a time have I pointed to that life as an example of what people might do and might be, if they would do as she did—be content ‘to live faithfully a hidden life,’” Her mother says: “Her unselfish work and devotion were marvelous. It is often said of her that she crowded more into her short life than is done or experienced in the longest. She shone the brightest in her daily life at home, always serving some one, forgetful of self. Her pure spirit grew so fast that the frail body could not retain it; yet she faded so slowly, so cheerfully and hopefully, that we hardly believed she could not rally until the day before she left us. Our sunshine is gone, but the radiance is still left in the memory of her sweet life.”
Blessed memory!
In this bright way she speaks of herself when laid aside from her sphere of usefulness, and obliged to some extent to discontinue the literary work which had proved so acceptable to the public and already given her considerable fame as an author: “I’ve been occupied with turning a corner, round which the landscape is different, and getting used to the change. I suppose it has been coming on for a good while; at all events, after some ten years of ruddy health and active exercise, I am not to sweep any more for a while, not to walk, not to sing, read aloud, talk much, not to hurry, not to get tired at anything.… Of course it is a little queer and painful sometimes, because, particularly, my father is always an invalid, and increasingly so. One dreads to be another anxiety. But I have no real reason to fret. Something good will come of it, I will expect. I am so thankful that I need not give up writing that I will not mind the rest of my denials;” and then when her own health was declining, and the sunset hour of her life was nearer than she thought, she closes her letter with “Good night, dear. Health and God’s blessing!” and it was a final “good night,” for word soon came of her entering into communion with the saints above.
The more heart we put into our work, whether it be domestic drudgery, the care of the sick, or “whatsoever the hand findeth to do,” the more perfect and satisfactory it will be; and according to the measure with which we serve others, is meted out to us the happiness we derive from that service. The sending of a letter full of kindly thought and sympathy has often brought a return far beyond the expectation of the sender. A little gift, a token of good will, insignificant in itself, has spoken volumes to the recipient, and brightened a day that was full of clouds. To do no more than our duty does not fill the measure of Christian usefulness. We would grieve if compelled to walk a narrow path, fenced in on either side, and not allowed to look to the right or left, or to pluck the fruits that lined the road; and God and his holy angels must grieve when we neglect to turn out of our path to assist others, and make excuses for the non-performance of heart service.
A young lady, very much interested in mission work, and an active worker in a large school connected with a flourishing church, felt offended at some of the officers of the school, and decided to send in her resignation. Each Sunday she had been accustomed to place before the children some text that they might carry with them through the week, absorbing its teachings and principles so that they would be “wrought out in living characters.”
All through the week her mind dwelt upon the injustice that she felt had been done her, and she went to the mission school the following Sunday fully determined to give up the work which had been her delight for so many years. As she entered the room her gaze rested on the text which stood out in bold lettering, as she had printed it the previous Sunday:
“Even Jesus pleased not himself.”
The arrow struck home. It would never do to have that text uppermost when she handed in her resignation, so she reversed the roll, and there in as bold type appeared:
“Jesus, the same yesterday, to-day, and forever.”
There was no use trying to avoid the situation, or to escape the responsibilities. The teacher’s work was there. She knew it; she felt it.
“To doubt would be disloyalty;
To falter would be sin;”
so she roused herself to greater endurance, put more heart into work, and had the satisfaction of hearing it said that never since her connection with the school had she given such a splendid lesson. The approval of her own conscience was not the least of her compensations, and there is no further talk of her giving up her position in the mission school.
We may be so situated that we can not do any great work in the world. By temperament, by education, or by reason of ill-health we may be restricted from carrying out our ambitious schemes, but there are none so weak, so ignorant, or so poor that they can not do some good in the world. The ladder that reaches to heaven is not composed of wooden rungs, or of cold, senseless material, but God has made every human being so dependent on his fellow-creatures that each one is lifted up by some one above him, some busy heart that feels another’s need and reaches out; and when there is no looking up nor reaching out there is no growth nor spiritual attainment.
If you want to know people you must get near them; first go down to their level, and then bring them up to yours, not waiting for any great occasion, or a more direct revelation, but taking advantage of small opportunities, and making your influence felt in quiet, unobtrusive ways.
“And when it is all over, and our feet will run no more, and our hands are helpless, and we have scarcely strength to murmur a last prayer, then we shall see that instead of needing a larger field we have left untilled many corners of our single acre, and that none of it is fit for the Master’s eye were it not for the softening shadow of the cross.”
“It was only a cup of water, with a gentle grace bestowed,
But it cheered a lonely traveler upon the dusty road;
For the way was long and dreary, and the resting places few,
And the sun had dried the streamlets and drank up the sparkling dew;
None noticed the cup of water as a beautiful act of love,
Save the angels keeping the record, away in that land above;
But the record shall never perish, and the trifling deed shall live,
For heaven demands but little from those who have least to give!
“It was only a kind word spoken to a weeping little child,
But the thread of its grief was broken, and the little one sweetly smiled;
And nobody stayed to notice so tiny an act of love,
Save the angels keeping the record in the wonderful book above.
And she who had spoken kindly went on her quiet way,
Nor dreamt such a simple action should count at the last great day.
But the pitying words of comfort were heard with a song of joy,
And the listening angels blessed her from their beautiful home on high.
“It isn’t the world-praised wonders that are best in our Father’s sight,
Nor the wreaths of fading laurels that garnish fame’s dizzy height;
But the pitying love and kindness, the work of the warm caress,
The beautiful hope and patience and self-forgetfulness;
The trifle in secret given, the prayer in the quiet night,
And the little unnoticed nothings, are good in our Father’s sight.”
There is always some one to smile at, somebody to give your chair to, somebody to whom a book, a flower, or even an old paper, will be a boon. These small attentions will open the way to confidence, will make it possible that in need these friends will give you opportunities to help them which, unless you had shown thoughtfulness and regard for them, they could never have done. A quiet, sympathetic look or smile many a time unbars a heart that needs help which you can give.