In the North Sea are a group of islands belonging to Denmark, sixteen in number, called the Färöe Isles, some of which are of considerable size and inhabited, others mere patches of rocks and turf. Upon one of these, which is a mere sand spit flung up by the sea, a hermit had taken up his residence. His dwelling was built of the stones of the place, and the entrance was so low that he went in and came out on his knees. When the door was closed, it was lighted by an opening in the top which permitted a view of the sky, of the sun when far advanced in the heavens, of the moon and the stars, but not of the earth. Here this pious but deluded saint passed his days in prayer, meditation, frequent fasting, and reading the Bible. His food was brought to him by the inhabitants of the neighboring islands who greatly revered him for his holiness and sought his prayers for themselves and their household. He imagined that if he could see only the heavens, he should become less earthly; that by cutting himself off from the sins, the cares, and the labors of worldly and sinful men and being alone with God, he should make great advance in holiness. Poor deluded man! If, when he looked upon the heavens, the sun, the moon, and the stars, he had only taken a reasonable and scriptural view of the purpose for which they were created, he would have perceived that it was for the good of others they were created, to declare the glory of God to a universe, to cause grass to grow for cattle, and herbs for the use of man; that for six thousand years they had been holding to all the nations of the earth their high and perpetual discourse of the wisdom, power, and goodness of God, who openeth His liberal hand and satisfieth the desire of every living thing. Such reflections would have taught him that if, instead of spending his life and energies, and consuming soul and body, in prayers and meditations that began and ended in themselves, he had taken a portion of his time to keep the fire burning on his own hearthstone, and then gone forth among those islanders and told them of God and Christ and the duties they owed, given them the benefit of and shared with them his wisdom and holiness, and taught them to love God and each other, it would have been more acceptable to God, and in blessing he would have been blessed. This mistaken man imagined he was crucifying sin when he was only crucifying the natural affections and sympathies God had given him to be gratified for his own good and that of others. Man was not made to live in a state of isolation, but in fellowship with his kind. The human heart craves sympathy just as naturally as the vine stretches its tendrils to clasp some friendly prop, and, failing to reach it, droops and withers and bears no fruit. He, who is the centre of many loving hearts, whose interests, joys, and sorrows are his and his theirs, is stronger and happier than he who treads the brier-planted path of life alone, with no one to lean upon and share the burden or the conflict with him. We were made to find our happiness in the happiness of others. When is a gift valuable? When it is a part of the heart of him who bestows it. That which makes the gifts I receive upon occasions like this of priceless value to me is that they come from those with whom I have lived in love and sympathy so long that they have become part of myself. The Saviour has said it is more blessed to give than to receive. It is more blessed to give than to receive. It is more gratifying to be able to bestow favors than to be obliged to receive them. It is more like our Maker. He never receives anything, for all things are His. He is the universal giver.... May He who gives us all things reward you in your persons and in your households, and grant you that which He sees is best for your happiness both here and hereafter.
HOME
[Delivered at “Donation Party,” October 19, 1897]
The sweetest word that ever trembled on human lips is the word “home.” It embraces and concentrates in itself the germs of a thousand forces of happiness, power, and progress yet to be developed from it. So long as man wanders, and, like the savage, merely gathers what grows of itself from the soil, or captures the fish of the streams, the birds of the air, and the beasts that roam the forests, he makes no progress; he bestows no labor upon, and therefore takes no interest in, that abode which he is to abandon to-morrow. It is only when he has a permanent dwelling and produces something from the earth that progress, happiness, and the home relation begin. Home is the place where character is built, where sacrifices to contribute to the happiness of others are made, and where love has taken up its abode. Love is the strongest passion of our natures and finds its happiness in sacrificing for its object; the parent for the child, the child for the parent, the sister for the brother. In this relation they are in the best possible position for moral and intellectual development; they stimulate and call out each other’s powers, energies, and affections.
Infinite wisdom has declared, “It is not good for man to be alone.” There is not a more unsightly or unprofitable tree than a white pine growing alone. It is a mass of knots, knobs, short-jointed, crooked, and wind-shaken,—in short, a scrub. The lumbermen in contempt call it a bull pine. But put a thousand of them together as near as they can grow. What a change! As you enter that majestic cathedral no sunbeam can pierce, and look up at those heights,—trees straight as an arrow seventy feet to a limb,—you almost feel like uncovering in reverence. Thus with the family relation. The happiest homes are those the members of which are frequently called to sacrifice something or to deny themselves something for the others’ comforts and happiness. It is this that sweetens home. It is those who bear the burdens of life together, relying upon and trusting in each other, who get the most out of life, bear its trials without being soured by them, and rear children who arise and call them blessed—children that have real manhood—who can look danger in the eye without quailing and grapple to severe tasks without wilting, and are nobody’s servants.
It is evident that home is not mere locality, that it is not defined by metes and bounds. From Gibraltar to Archangel, from Calcutta to the frozen seas, there are homes. One principle, one fruit-bud produces them all. Home is not a thing that can be bought or sold in the market. You may buy a homestead or a house, you may perhaps buy a wife, but you cannot buy a woman’s love. Costly furniture, rich dresses, retinues of servants, and luxurious dishes do not make homes. It is not the residence but the affection of the occupants that constitutes the home. Those who are united in the bonds of a true affection behold themselves reflected in each other, and each is to the other as another self. In the confidence of love there is repose.
My friends and neighbors, this assembly is made up of those who have been reared and have reared others in homes where parental love and filial affection were the mainsprings of action and the foundation of charitable and friendly acts. The desire to share with others the gifts a kindly Providence bestows on ourselves is bred in the atmosphere of home. All the sweet charities of life are but the overflow of these feelings and sympathies born and bred at the domestic hearthstone.
I thank you, my friends and neighbors, for the gifts of affection bestowed this night, and may the blessing of God rest upon yourselves, your children, and your homes.