Living triumphantly necessitates one possessing the vision of purity, without which one cannot see God. Mother holds the preeminent place in every life, because her true living has kept her vision clear, and she sees the good that lies deep within the hearts of her children. Her son may become an outcast in the sight of others. Filled with iniquity, and helpless in the terrible grasp of passion, he may have lost faith in himself and says: “There is no hope for me.” The world hears, and readily agrees, and says that the young man is hopeless. But not the mother. To mother there is always hope. Her boy must not be thrown away, for he is of infinite value. She never notices his sin; she sees only the soul that lies hidden like a jewel beneath the rubbish of his transgressions. Seeing the love within his soul which others could not see, because they lacked the necessary love to see, her vision became the power that not only defies but completely changes public opinion. Because she loves much, she redeems and saves him, and compels the community to accept him as one who has wandered away, but has come back to the Father’s house. Blessed are the pure in heart, for unto them is given vision to see good in every one, and to behold their Lord in every event of life.
XX.
The Dignity of Labor
There is no liberty without toil. To enjoy the freedom of the sunshine, the germinating seed must lift and throw aside the clod which outweighs it a thousandfold. Before the blossom can unwrap its tinted petals in the sunlight it must, with the warmth of its own healthy growth, melt the wax that seals it in its winter sepulcher, and with its increasing strength tear away the rough bud-scales and hurl them to the ground. The oriole wings its way and fills the afternoon with song, only, after earnest effort, it has liberated itself from the imprisoning shell.
Toil is the golden key which God gave the human race, that it might find escape from the self-inflicted slavery of sin. “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread” was not a curse pronounced by an offended Deity, but Love’s whispered secret of escape from harm. Standing amid the wreck of a sin-torn paradise, man looked through the open archway of these six words—“In the sweat of thy face”—and saw the possibilities of a world-wide Eden. Beholding the fruit begin to fail, and the greensward become tangled with brush and bramble, Fear said: “You shall die of hunger.” “In the sweat of thy face” revealed broad acres filled with health-giving ripening grain and orchards laden with luscious fruit. Beholding the lakes become stagnant, and the river beds becoming dry and parched, Fear said: “You shall perish of thirst.” “In the sweat of thy face” revealed vineyards adrip with purple wine, and desert lands abloom with beauty because man would learn to train the mountain streams to follow where he led. Yea, more, “In the sweat of thy face” opened a pathway through which Hope ran to find salvation from the deadly power of sin. Coming back, with face aglow, that bright clad Angel bade man first to give his strength in building an altar on which to offer heartfelt thanks to God, who had made the human hand with which to toil and rebuild paradise.
Happy and fortunate is the man who learns to do his daily stint of work with a cheerful heart. To him shall be the joy of understanding that the ordinary duties of life are not burdens sent to crush him to earth, but blessings through which he is to work out his own salvation.
Behold how man’s labors have redeemed the world from barrenness. Soft, yielding swamps have become hard-paved streets of famous cities, over which the unappreciative multitudes walk or ride in perfect comfort. Where once the heated winds blew the drifting sands to-day the gentle zephyrs fan the rich, green meadows. Where once the untrained, tangled vines broke down the struggling tree upon which they clung, the vineyards yield their purple clusters, and the orchards give forth their wealth of sweet and luscious fruit. Where once the wild weeds threw their choking pollen to the wind, the aster, rose, and proud chrysanthemum wave upon graceful stems and toss their pretty petals to and fro. Where once the savage stretched his tents of skins, brown-stone mansions lift their open portals in invitation to the weary sons of toil. By the sweat of man’s brow, by the toiling of the multitudes, we are saved from desolation and made to dwell securely among the gardens.
Toil saves from sickness. Without the putting forth of physical effort all men are weaklings. To be a producer, to change the strength of brain and muscle into that which is of value to his fellow man, is not only necessary if he would play his part in the great social institution of which he finds himself a part, but it is necessary for his own mental, physical, and spiritual salvation. Grinding out his days in unceasing industry, many a man curses his lot and wishes earnestly for idleness, not knowing that toil is the making of a man with strong muscles, firm flesh, large lung capacity, and good digestion, for toil forces the blood in rapid circulation. Honest toil is the best tonic. When asked what was the secret of his good health, a great statesman responded, “Hard work.” Overfed, full of gout, and ill humored, a certain man of ease requested a celebrated physician to prescribe for him. “Live upon sixpence a day, and earn it,” was the advice. Over one half of the invalids of the world could be almost instantly cured, if they would concentrate their attention, and direct all their strength, in carrying forward some worthy enterprise. Caring for a garden is a good preventive for consumption. Labor means exercise, exercise means health. Common toil is God’s prescription by which we are to work out our salvation from many days of sickness and depression.
Labor preserves us from needless sorrow. Imagine the condition of Adam leaving Eden with all his faculties save that which would enable him to concentrate his energies upon some worth-while task—with the power to think and ponder over the hardships of his fallen situation; with the marvelous power of memory to recall his faded days of gladness; with the power of a good imagination, to paint fairer, brighter pictures for the future, and yet without the power to organize these faculties for action, thus having no force of character with which to achieve. Such life would be worse than death, no matter what evils death might bring. But through the gracious promise of the sweat-washed brow man found surcease for sorrow in attempting to build a better garden for himself and little ones. There is no happiness save that which results in using one’s strength and talents in honest endeavor. Idleness breeds discontent, worry, and fear. It adds a thousand pangs to every grief and sorrow. The most unhappy and therefore the most unfortunate people in the world are those who have the financial resources to sit in idleness and nurse their grief. Better by far be the poor woman who leaves her dead, and goes to scrub the floors of a public building, for in her honest toil she finds a healing, comforting touch. Toil makes one forget his grief, soothes him with a gentle hand, and permits the grace of God to heal the wounded soul and broken heart.
Labor is a strong tower that shields one from the onslaughts of temptation. It is the idle hand that Satan seeks. One half of our incarcerated criminals owe their position to the fact that they refused to accept the protecting power of toil to keep them in the way of righteousness. Having nothing to do, they fell in with evil companions. Having nothing to do, they partook of questionable amusements. Having nothing to do, they followed the evil leading of their passions. Having nothing to do, sin and disgrace made them easy captives. One way of salvation is to escape from temptation, and one of the best ways to escape temptation is to be so busily occupied with clean, honest, manly endeavor, that the devil has no access to the mind with either spoken word or secret thought. Work out your salvation from temptation.