But the crucial moment comes when you leave school and become more or less your own mistress—for while you are at school your time is apportioned out to various duties, and the development of individual bents and tendencies can necessarily not be allowed such free play as they can revel in when school-days are over—and then it is for you to show whether you mean to pass your days in "doing nothing much" either at home or outside, or whether you recognise your own greatness as an immortal, and intend to do at least something or other in this world well.
And here a word of caution must be inserted against allowing enthusiasm for one pursuit to lead to the neglect of other duties. "There is the story of a friar who set to work to illuminate the pages of the Apocalypse in his zeal and love for God. He became so absorbed in this work that he neglected the poor and sick, who were suffering and dying in the plague. He came at last to the painting of the face of his Lord, but his hand lost its skill. He wondered why, and realised that it was because, in his eagerness to paint his pictures, he had neglected his poor. Humiliated by this discovery, he laid aside his brushes and went down to minister to the sick and dying. He wrought on untiringly till he himself was smitten down. Then he tottered back to his cell to finish his loved work before he died. He knelt in prayer to ask help, when lo! he saw that an angel's hand had completed the picture of the Lord in a manner far surpassing human skill." It is only a legend, but its lesson is well worthy your serious thought.
Again, contemplate the effect your enthusiasm will have on those around you. One great and vital element in enthusiasm is hope—hope which endures under rebuffs, derision, and in spite of apparent failure. Now hope is most infectious, and when others, whose spirits are perchance drooping, and hearts failing for the heaviness of their duties and the weight of their troubles, see that you always maintain an ardent determination to accomplish your purpose, a cheerful spirit, and a smiling, hopeful face, they will feel their courage renewed and will resume their burden with re-invigorated strength. This idea is beautifully expressed by Mrs. Browning in the lines on "Work"—
"Then others shall
Take patience, labour to their heart and hand,
From thy heart and thy hand and thy brave cheer."
I will conclude by reminding you that, alongside of enthusiasm on one and several other points, you must, be you strong or weak, rich or poor, cherish undying enthusiasm for "friendship's ministry," which is the half of your solemn duty of service to God. So many people forget that it is not enough to feel love or affection for others unless they also show it and thus give pleasure and comfort, and ofttimes strengthening, to their friend. A word of sympathy does so much. Once after the death of a good clergyman whose labours had been very blessed, his friends expressed to his widow their appreciation of his noble life and work, and she, after thanking them for their kindly words, asked, amid her tears: "But why did you never tell him these things while he was living?" Yes, why not? Dr. Miller says: "Too many wait until those they love are dead, and then bring their alabaster boxes of affection and break them. They keep silent about their love when words would mean so much, would give such cheer, encouragement; and then, when the friend lies in the coffin, their lips are unsealed.... Let us not reserve all the flowers for coffin-lids.... Let us show kindness when kindness will do good. All about us move those who would be strengthened and comforted by the good cheer which we could give. It will make sorrow all the harder if we ever have to say beside the dead: "I might have brightened the way a little if only I had been kinder.""
Never then, I beg of you, forget to be enthusiastic in this ministry of friendship, and if, combined with that, you entertain enthusiasm for other noble, worthy things, and try to kindle a like enthusiasm in others, you may, perhaps, at the end of your life be allowed to feel that you have, though perhaps but in a slight degree,
"Made the world within your reach
Somewhat the better for your living
And gladder for your human speech."
Whittier.
FOOTNOTES: