Some people mistake selfishness or self-love for real love. Everywhere we see the sort of base substitute which says, "If you do this for me I'll do that for you." The woman that says to a man, in her heart, if not with her lips, "If you'll support me and give me a home, I'll love you," does not love. This is selfishness. A great many people confuse love of the thing given with love of the giver. They mistake the love of their own comforts, of a good time, of dress and luxuries, for love of the person who supplies them with these things. This is a mere travesty of the genuine thing. Love simply loves and asks nothing in return. There is no self in it. Abuse, bitterness, indifference, ingratitude do not change or destroy love. It simply loves on. And no love is ever lost, whether it is returned or not. Genuine love is a force that always wins out. Even if it is not reciprocated it wins by chastening, softening, elevating, beautifying and enriching the life of the one who loves. This is love's way.
What mothers endure for many years for their children would kill them or drive them to an insane asylum in half the time but for love. This is the healing balm that cures all hurts, lightens all burdens, that takes the drudgery out of service. It is love alone that enables the poor mother to risk her life for her child, to go through terrible experiences in her struggles with poverty and sickness to rear her children. A burden half as great which had no love in it would crush the life out of her. But love lightens the load, takes the sting out of poverty, the pain out of sacrifice.
The same thing is true of the loving father, though his burden in the nature of things is rarely as heavy as the mother's. But he is often virtually a slave for half a lifetime or more for those he loves, and if he is a real man he does not complain. Love lightens the burden and cheers the way. Where the heart is, there the burden is light.
"A new commandment give I unto you, that ye love one another; as I have loved you love ye also one another."
In the literal fulfilling of this commandment lies the salvation of the world. Among the many noble souls of our own time who have tried to live in accordance with it, one of the most conspicuous was Count Leo Tolstoy. In one of his own beautiful stories Tolstoy shows how every one, no matter what his station or how poor his circumstances, may do this, by following the Master's example in treating every human being as we would a loved member of our own family.
A very devout Russian peasant, so runs the story, had prayed for years that the Master might sometime come to his humble cabin home. One night he had a vision in which the Master appeared to him, and told him He would come to his cabin next day.
Filled with joy, the peasant awoke. So real seemed his vision that he arose and immediately went to work putting his cabin to rights and preparing for the expected heavenly guest.
A terrible storm of sleet and snow raged throughout the day. While performing his simple household duties, heaping fresh logs in his crude fireplace, preparing his pot of cabbage soup, the Russian peasant's daily dish, the man would look out into the storm with anxious, expectant eyes. Presently he saw a poor half-frozen peddler with a pack on his back struggling toward the light, but almost overcome by the fierce blasts of snow and sleet that beat upon him. The peasant rushed out and brought the wayfarer into his cabin. He dried his clothing, warmed him, fed him some of the cabbage soup, and started him on his way again, comforted and rejoicing.
In a little while he saw another traveler, a poor old woman, trying feebly to beat her way against the blinding snow. Her also the compassionate peasant took into his cabin. He warmed and fed her, wrapped his own coat about her, and, strengthened and encouraged, sent her too on her way.
The day wore slowly away and darkness approached, but still no sign of the Master. Hoping against hope, the man went once again to his cabin door, and looking out into the storm he saw a little child, who was utterly unable to make its way against the blinding sleet and ice. He took the half-frozen child in his arms, brought it into the cabin, warmed and fed it, and soon the little wanderer fell asleep before the fire.