The Garden of Peace.
There are few persons who do precisely as they ought to do. It is very seldom that any one, even for a single day, discharges every duty that rests upon him, at the same time avoiding everything that is wrong. There is usually something neglected, delayed, or postponed, that ought to be done to-day. There is usually some thought entertained, some feeling indulged, some deed committed, that is sinful. If any person doubts this, let him make the experiment; let him watch every thought and action for a single day, and he will be very likely to perceive that what we say is true—that all fall far short of perfect obedience to the rule of right.
And yet, if a person can once make up his mind to do right, it is the surest way to obtain happiness. The manner in which this may be accomplished, and the pleasant consequences that follow, I shall endeavor to show by an allegory, which will, at the same time, exhibit the evils that proceed from an habitual and determined neglect of duty.
In an ancient city of the East, two youths chanced to be passing a beautiful garden. It was enclosed by a lofty trellis, which prevented their entering the place; but, through its openings, they could perceive that it was a most enchanting spot. It was not a place where kitchen vegetables are produced, but it was embellished by every object of nature and art that could give beauty to the landscape. There were groves of lofty trees, with winding avenues between them. There were green lawns, the grass of which seemed like velvet. There were groups of shrubs, many of them in bloom, and scattering delicious fragrance upon the atmosphere.
Between these pleasing objects there were fountains sending their silvery showers into the air; and a stream of water, clear as crystal, wound with gentle murmurs through the place. The charms of this lovely scene were greatly heightened by the delicious music of birds, the hum of bees, and the echoes of many youthful and happy voices.
The two young men gazed upon the landscape with intense interest; but as they could only see a portion of it through the trellis, they looked out for some gate by which they might enter the garden. At a little distance, they perceived an arch, and they went to the spot, supposing that they should find an entrance here. There was, indeed, a gate; but, behold, it was locked, and they found it impossible to gain admittance!
While they were considering what course they should adopt, they perceived an inscription upon the arch above, which ran as follows:
“Ne’er till to-morrow’s light delay
What may as well be done to-day;
Ne’er do the thing you’d wish undone
Viewed by to-morrow’s rising sun.
Observe these rules a single year,
And you may freely enter here.”
The two youths were much struck by these lines; and, before they parted, both had agreed to make the experiment and try to live according to the inscription. They were not only anxious to gain admittance to the beautiful garden, but the idea of adopting a plan like that proposed had something of novelty in it; and this is always pleasing to the ardent heart of the young.
I need not tell the details of their progress in their trial. Both found the task they had undertaken much more difficult than they at first imagined. To their surprise, they found that following this rule required an almost total change of their modes of life; and this taught them, what they had not felt before, that a very large part of their lives—a very large share of their thoughts, feelings and actions—were wrong, though they were considered virtuous young men by the society in which they lived.
After a few weeks, the younger of the two, finding that the scheme put too many restraints upon his tastes, abandoned the trial. The other persevered, and, at the end of the year, presented himself at the arched gateway of the garden.
To his great joy, he was instantly admitted; and if the place pleased him when seen dimly through the trellis, it appeared far more lovely, now that he could actually tread its pathways, breathe its balmy air, and mingle intimately with the scenes around. One thing delighted, yet surprised him—which was this: it now seemed easy for him to do right; nay, to do right, instead of requiring self-denial and a sacrifice of his tastes and wishes, seemed to him to be a matter of course, and the pleasantest thing he could do.
While he was thinking of this, a person came near, and the two fell into conversation. After a little while, the youth told his companion what he was thinking of, and asked him to account for his feelings. “This place,” said the other, “is the Garden of Peace. It is the abode of those who have adopted God’s will as the rule of their lives. It is a happy home provided for those who have conquered selfishness; those who have learned to put aside their passions and do their duty. At first, it is difficult to do this; for, in early life, we adopt wrong courses, and habit renders them easy. These habits become our masters, and it is hard to break away from them. But if we triumph over these habits, and if we adopt others, of a virtuous kind, then it is easy to follow them; and the peace that flows from virtuous habits is beyond the power of words to express. This lovely garden is but a picture of the heart that is firmly established in the ways of virtue. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.”
While the companions were thus conversing, and as they were passing near the gateway, the youth saw on the other side the friend who had resolved to follow the inscription, but who had given over the trial. Upon this, the companion of the youth said, “Behold the young man who could not conquer himself! How miserable is he in comparison with yourself! What is it makes the difference? You are in the Garden of Peace; he is excluded from it. This tall gateway is a barrier that he cannot pass; this is the barrier, interposed by human vices and human passions, which separates mankind from that peace, of which we are all capable. Whoever can conquer himself, and has resolved, firmly, that he will do it, has found the key of that gate, and he may freely enter here. If he cannot do that, he must continue to be an outcast from the Garden of Peace!”
