Dimly and intermittingly the thought began to develop and dangle before our mental eyes that some day the lights would grow brighter in our binnacles, the shadows become less opaque and the distance diminish when passing by. The thought waves we were setting in motion as we moved around in our orbits, came together and intermingled and blended in mutual harmony, and moved us together in our wake, drawing us closer together, even when passing in the dark. And our binnacle lights grew brighter and finally dispelled the darkness so much that we no longer passed unrecognized, but too far apart to hail each other on the social sea.
What strange and subtle influence was it that planted the seeds of a mutual desire in each heart, that some day in passing, we could call across the narrow sea and hear the sound of each other’s voice? Was it caused by the thought waves that came over the mysterious dream sea and beat softly on the sides of our spiritual ship? Mutual confessions afterwards revealed the fact that our final meeting was not by accident, but through the individual, independent, unknown designs of each other. We felt the approach of each other’s frail boat while still in the dark distance, and realized that we were soon to meet and touch, with a hand-shake and a heart-ache that would never cease nor diminish until we have accomplished something to light the darkness where other poor mariners on the stormy sea of life pass each other, with no binnacle lights shining out over the troubled water, and no friendly call coming out of the darkness to those in distress.
No man can do successful work alone. We need the help and the moral support and the sincere appreciation of all those whom we know to be in sympathy with souls who are still pulling against the stream and through the darkness of obscurity and neglect. Every one of us have friends who pass us in the dark—friends that we could sincerely love and respect, and who could aid us and cheer us as we pull against the streams of life with the sad realization that sooner or later, we shall all be washed away.
Let us get closer together. Let us flash the binnacle light of love and God speed and good cheer as we pass in the dark. Too often we turn down the light at the approach of an unknown ship, and use our utmost endeavors to pass unseen and unknown. Is it because our mutual thoughts are out of tune?
And would it be thus if we were all mutually working for the uplifting of humanity? Would it be thus if we were all willing to throw out a line to the human boats drifting, without a rudder, down the rapids of poverty and want?
We are all ultimately going out on the unknown sea—why not sail closer together on the sea of life? Soon we will drift so far apart that absolute darkness will hide us from the living world; so, while we live let us avoid passing friends without calling to them over the water.
VOICE OF THE STONE
Passing through a country graveyard one day last summer, and reading the sad stories engraved on the many head stones, I was attracted by the silent voice of one particular stone, erected over the grave of a six-year-old boy: “How Many Hopes Lie Buried Here!” Was it an exclamation, or an interrogation? How many hopes? Only the fathers and mothers can truly tell who have buried hopes in similar graves.