Nature and Culture

by Harvey Rice

"Tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,

Sermons in stones, and good in everything."

In estimating your life-work, you should feel that yours is a high destiny, and that much is expected of you. If you would succeed in the world, you must have faith in yourselves as well as in a Divine Providence, and act upon the principle that "God helps those who help themselves." Wherever you go, make yourselves as acceptable and as agreeable to all with whom you come in contact as possible. If you would be preferred, prefer others; and if you would be beloved, scatter flowers by the wayside of life, but never plant thorns, and in all you do and say, unite modesty with simplicity and sincerity.

There can be no true manhood or womanhood that does not rest on character, in the highest sense of the term. In fact, it is the character we bear that defines our social position. The formation of character is a work of our own, and requires the exercise of all the better and higher powers of our nature. On character depends not only our usefulness in life, but our individual happiness. Character is the engraved mark, or sign, by which every individual is known, and indicates the essential traits of his moral composition, the qualities of his head and heart, as displayed in his aspirations and in the work of his life. Character is more enduring than reputation. God respects character; man respects reputation. The one is as lasting as eternity; the other as evanescent as the bubble that glitters in the sunshine for a moment, and then disappears forever.

In forming a true character, such an one as crowns the true man with an imperishable diadem, there are many things to be considered, especially the materials which enter into its moral masonry. Its foundation must be solid and immovable, its superstructure chaste and elegant, and its proportions harmonious and beautiful. Like a temple built for the gods, it should be worthy of the gods. It should be not only beautiful in its exterior, but be in its interior the life-work of a truly heroic soul.

Character represents soul. As character is moulded by human instrumentalities, so is soul. Soul is therefore the essence of a true manhood, a living principle that cannot die. It is an influence in itself, and out of itself, felt everywhere and forever. It is the moral life and the eternal life. Like a pebble cast into the broad ocean, its impulse is sensibly felt by the entire ocean; every particle moves a particle, until the vast deep is moved. Such is individual influence. If character, then, be what it should be, truthful, noble, divine, it will necessarily be godlike, and exert an influence in harmony with the benevolent designs of Heaven.

And yet there are thousands who seem to live without purpose,—live merely to vegetate. Of course such persons do not live in earnest, and hence do nothing in earnest. They have life, but no lofty aspirations. They may have souls; but if so, they remain undeveloped. In fact, persons of this character have no character, no earnest work, no significance. And for this reason, though living, they are literally dead. If we would make the world what it should be, we must first make ourselves what we should be. The work must begin at home in our own hearts, and with a view to our own moral needs.

In the cultivation of a pure heart-life, we should begin by cultivating "a conscience void of offence." If we would unlock the gate of paradise, we must look for the key where it is to be found. We may rest assured that it cannot be found in an uncultivated field of brambles and briers, nor amid the rubbish of a misspent life; yet to find it, only requires diligent search. Though everything beautiful, everything noble, everything sublime, may lie in the distance, yet it is attainable; it is the ultimatum that we should seek,—something substantial, something eternal. Mere fame is nothing worth. It is a thing of earth, and not of heaven.

There may be an innate feeling or principle that constitutes what is called conscience; yet it must be conceded that conscience is practically but the product or outgrowth of education, and may therefore be so moulded as to become the just or unjust judge of the moral questions which involve both our present and future welfare. How important, then, that this judge should not only be a righteous, but an educated judge, familiar with the principles of right and wrong, and stern in the application of them! In a word, conscience is the central life of character,—the silent monitor within our own breasts, whose moral influence controls our destiny.