We are all builders. We may not erect any house or temple on a city street, for human eyes to see, but every one of us builds a fabric which G.o.d and angels see. Life is a building. It rises slowly, day by day, through the years. Every new lesson we learn lays a block on the edifice which is rising silently within us. Every experience, every touch of another life on ours, every influence that impresses us, every book we read, every conversation we have, every act of our commonest days, adds something to the invisible building. Sorrow, too, has its place in preparing the stones to lie on the life-wall. All life furnishes the material.

"Our to-days and yesterdays Are the blocks with which we build."

There are many n.o.ble fabrics of character reared in this world. But there are also many who build only low, mean huts, without beauty, which will be swept away in the testing-fires of judgment. There are many, too, whose life-work presents the spectacle of an unfinished building. There was a beautiful plan to begin with, and the work promised well for a little time; but after a while it was abandoned and left standing, with walls half-way up, a useless fragment, open and exposed, an incomplete, inglorious ruin, telling no story of past splendor as do the ruins of some old castle or coliseum, a monument only of folly and failure.

"There is nothing sadder," writes one, "than an incomplete ruin; one that has never been of use; that never was what it was meant to be; about which no pure, holy, lofty a.s.sociations cling, no thoughts of battles fought and victories won, or of defeats as glorious as victories. G.o.d sees them where we do not. The highest tower may be more unfinished than the lowest to him."

We must not forget the truth of this last sentence. There are, lives which to our eyes seem only to have been begun and then abandoned, which to G.o.d's eyes are still rising into more and more graceful beauty. Here is one who began his life-work with all the ardor of youth and all the enthusiasm of a consecrated spirit. For a time his hand never tired, his energy never slackened. Friends expected great things from him. Then his health gave way. The diligent hand lies idle and waiting now. His enthusiasm no more drives him afield. His work lies unfinished.

"What a pity!" men say. But wait! He has not left an unfinished life-work as G.o.d sees it. He is resting in submission at the Master's feet and is growing meanwhile as a Christian. The spiritual temple in his soul is rising slowly in the silence. Every day is adding something to the beauty of his character, as he learns the lessons of patience, confidence, peace, joy, love. His building at the last will be more beautiful than if he had been permitted to toil on through many busy years, carrying out his own plans. He is fulfilling G.o.d's purpose for his life.

We must not measure spiritual building by earthly standards. Where the heart remains loyal and true to Christ; where the cross of suffering is taken up cheerfully and borne sweetly; where the spirit is obedient though the hands lie folded and the feet must be still, the temple rises continually toward finished beauty.

Or here is one who dies in early youth. There was great promise in the beautiful life. Affection had reared for it a n.o.ble fabric of hope.

Perhaps the beauty had begun to shine out in the face, and the hands had begun to show their skill. Then death came and all the fair hopes were folded away. The visions of loveliness and the dreams of n.o.ble attainments and achievements lay like withered flowers upon the grave.

An unfinished life! friends cry in their disappointment and sorrow. So it seems, surely, to love's eyes, from the earth-side. But so it is not, as G.o.d's eye looks upon it. There is nothing unfinished that fulfils the divine plan. G.o.d cuts off no young life till its earthly work is done. Then the soul-building which began here and seemed to be interrupted by death, was only hidden from our eyes by a thin veil, behind which it still goes up with unbroken continuity, rising into fairest beauty in the presence of G.o.d.

But there are abandoned life-buildings whose story tells only of shame and failure. Many persons begin to follow Christ, and after a little time turn away from their profession and leave only a pretentious beginning to stand as a ruin to be laughed at by the world and to dishonor the Master's name.

Sometimes it is discouragement that leads men to give up the work to which they have put their hand. In one of his poems, Wordsworth tells a pathetic story of a straggling heap of unhewn stones, and the beginning of a sheepfold which was never finished. With his wife and only son, old Michael, a Highland shepherd, dwelt for many years in peace. But trouble came which made it necessary that the son should go away to do for himself for a while. For a time good reports came from him, and the old shepherd would go out when he had leisure and would work on the sheepfold which he was building. By and by, however, sad news came from Luke. In the great dissolute city he had given himself to evil courses. Shame fell on him and he was driven to seek a hiding-place beyond the seas. The sad tidings broke the old father's heart. He went about as before, caring for his sheep. To the hollow dell, too, he would repair from time to time, meaning to build at the unfinished fold. But the neighbors in their pity noticed that he did little work in those sad days.

"'Tis believed by all That many and many a day he thither went And never lifted up a single stone.

There by the sheepfold sometimes was he seen Sitting alone, with that his faithful dog, Then old, beside him, lying at his feet.

The length of full seven years from time to time He at the building of his sheepfold wrought, And left the work unfinished when he died."

Years after the shepherd was gone the remains of the unfinished fold were still there, a sad memorial of one who began to build but did not finish. Sorrow broke his heart and his hand slacked.

Too often n.o.ble life-buildings are abandoned in the time of sorrow, and the hands that were quick and skilful before grief came, hang down and do nothing more on the temple-wall. Instead, however, of giving up our work and faltering in our diligence, we should be inspired by sorrow to yet greater earnestness in all duty and greater fidelity in all life.

G.o.d does not want us to faint under chastening, but to go on with our work, quickened to new earnestness by grief.

Want of faith is another cause which leads many to abandon their life-temples unfinished. Throngs followed Christ in the earlier days of his ministry when all seemed bright, who, when they saw the shadow of the cross, turned back and walked no more with him. They lost their faith in him. It is startling to read how near even our Lord's apostles came to leaving their buildings unfinished. Had not their faith come again after their Master arose, they would have left in this world only sad memorials of failure instead of glorious finished temples.

In these very days there are many who, through the losing of their faith, are abandoning their work on the wall of the temple of Christian discipleship, which they have begun to build. Who does not know those who once were earnest and enthusiastic in Christian life, while there was but little opposition, but who fainted and failed when it became hard to confess Christ and walk with him?

Then sin, in some form, draws many a builder away from his work, to leave it unfinished. It may be the world's fascinations that draw him from Christ's side. It may be sinful human companionships that lure him from loyal friendship to his Saviour. It may be riches that enter his heart and blind his eyes to the attractions of heaven. It may be some secret, debasing l.u.s.t that gains power over him and paralyzes his spiritual life. Many are there now, amid the world's throngs, who once sat at the Lord's Table and were among G.o.d's people. Unfinished buildings their lives are, towers begun with great enthusiasm and then left to tell their sad story of failure to all who pa.s.s by. They began to build and were not able to finish.

It is sad to think how much of this unfinished work G.o.d's angels see as they look down upon our earth. Think of the good beginnings which never come to anything in the end; the excellent resolutions which are never carried out, the n.o.ble life-plans entered upon by so many young people with ardent enthusiasm, but soon given up. Think of the beautiful visions and fair hopes which might be made splendid realities, but which fade out, not leaving the record of even one sincere, earnest effort to work them into reality.

In all lines of life we see these abandoned buildings. The business world is full of them. Men began to build, but in a little time they were gone, leaving their work uncompleted. They set out with gladness, but tired at length of the toil, or grew disheartened at the slow coming of success, and abandoned their ideal when it was perhaps just ready to be realized. Many homes present the spectacle of abandoned dreams of love. For a time the beautiful vision shone in radiance, and two hearts sought to make it come true, but then gave it up in despair.

So life everywhere is full of beginnings never carried out to completion. There is not a soul-wreck on the streets, not a prisoner serving out a sentence behind iron bars, not a debased, fallen one anywhere, in whose soul there were not once visions of beauty, bright hopes, holy thoughts and purposes, and high resolves--an ideal of something lovely and n.o.ble. But alas! the visions, the hopes, the purposes, the resolves, never grew into more than beginnings. G.o.d's angels bend down and see a great wilderness of unfinished fabrics, splendid possibilities unfulfilled, n.o.ble might-have-beens abandoned, ghastly ruins now, sad memorials only of failure.

The lesson from all this is, that we should finish our work, that we should allow nothing to draw us away from our duty, that we should never weary in following Christ, that we should hold fast the beginning of our confidence steadfast unto the end. We should not falter under any burden, in the face of any danger, before any demand of cost and sacrifice. No discouragement, no sorrow, no worldly attraction, no hardship, should weaken for one moment our determination to be faithful unto death. No one who has begun to build for Christ should leave an unfinished, abandoned life-work to grieve the heart of the Master and to be sneered at as a reproach to the name he bears.

Yet we must remember, lest we be discouraged, that only in a relative, human sense can any life-building be made altogether complete. Our best work is marred and imperfect. It is only when we are in Christ, and are co-workers with him, that anything we do can ever be made perfect and beautiful. But the weakest, and the humblest, who are simply faithful, will stand at last complete in him. Even the merest fragment of life, as it appears in men's eyes, if it be truly in Christ, and filled with his love and with his Spirit, will appear finished, when presented before the divine Presence. To do G.o.d's will, whatever that may be, to fill out his plan, is to be complete in Christ, though the stay on earth be but for a day, and though the work done fulfil no great human plan, and leave no brilliant record among men.

"Thy work unfinished! Do not fear Though at his coming may be found The stone unset.

Yet, for thy faith, beyond the skies Thine own shall be the longed-for prize.

He knoweth best who calls from labor now To rest, to build no more."

CHAPTER XXIV.

IRON SHOES FOR ROUGH ROADS.

"Our feeble frame he knoweth, Remembereth we are dust; And evermore his face is kind, His ways are ever just.

In evil and in blindness, Through darkened maze we rove, But still our Father leads us home, By strength of mighty love."

--MARGARET E. SANGSTER.

The matter of shoes is important. Especially is this true when the roads are rough and hard. We cannot then get along without something strong and comfortable to wear on our feet. One would scarcely expect to find anything in the Bible about such a need as this. Yet it only shows how truly the Bible is fitted to all our actual life to discover in it a promise referring to shoes.

In the blessing of Moses, p.r.o.nounced before his death upon the several tribes, there was this among other things for Asher: "Thy shoes shall be iron." A little geographical note will help to make the meaning plain. Part of Asher's allotted portion was hilly and rugged. Common sandals, made of wood or leather, would not endure the wear and tear of the sharp, flinty rocks. There was need, therefore, for some special kind of shoes. Hence the form of the promise: "Thy shoes shall be iron."

Even the Bible words which took the most vivid local coloring from the particular circ.u.mstances in which they were originally spoken, are yet as true for us as they were for those to whom they first came. We have only to get disentangled from the local allusions the real heart of the meaning of the words, and we have an eternal promise which every child of G.o.d may claim.

Turning, then, this old-time a.s.surance into a word for nineteenth-century pilgrims, we get from it some important suggestions.

For one thing it tells us that we may have some rugged pieces of road before we get to the end of our life-journey. If not, what need would there be for iron shoes? If the way is to be flower-strewn, velvet slippers, as Dr. McLaren somewhere suggests, would do. No man wants iron-soled shoes for a walk through a soft meadow. The journey is not likely to be all easy. Indeed, an earnest Christian life is never easy. No one can live n.o.bly and worthily without struggle, battle, self-denial. One may find easy ways, but they are not the worthiest ways. They do not lead upward to the n.o.blest things. One reason why many people never grasp the visions of beauty and splendor which shine before them in early years is because they have not courage for rough climbing.

"I reach a duty, yet I do it not, And, therefore, climb no higher; but if done, My view is brightened, and another spot Seen on my mortal sun; For be the duty high as angel's flight-- Fulfil it, and a higher will arise Even from its ashes. Duty is our ladder to the skies, And climbing not, we fall."

We shall need our iron shoes if we are to make the journey that leads upward to the best possibilities of our life.

But the word is not merely a prophecy of rugged paths; it is also a promise of shoeing for the road, whatever it may be. One who is preparing to climb a mountain, craggy and precipitous, would not put on silk slippers; he would get strong, tough shoes, with heavy nails in the soles. When G.o.d sends us on a journey over steep and flinty paths he will not fail to provide us with suitable shoes.

Asher's portion was not an accidental one; it was of G.o.d's choosing.

Nor is there any accident in the ordering of the place, the conditions, the circ.u.mstances, of any child of G.o.d's. Our times are in G.o.d's hands. No doubt, then, the hardnesses and difficulties of any one's lot are part of the divine ordering for the best growth of the person's life.

There was a compensation in Asher's rough portion. His rugged hills had iron in them. This law of compensation runs through all G.o.d's distribution of gifts. In the animal world there is a wonderful harmony, often noted, between the creatures and the circ.u.mstances and conditions amid which they are placed. The same law rules in the providence of human life. One man's farm is hilly and hard to till, but deep down beneath its ruggedness, buried away in its rocks, there are rich minerals. One person's lot in life is hard, with peculiar obstacles, difficulties and trials; but hidden in it there are compensations of some kind. One young man is reared in affluence and luxury. He never experiences want or self-denial, never has to struggle with obstacles or adverse circ.u.mstances. Another is reared in poverty and has to toil and suffer privation. The latter seems to have scarcely an equal chance in life. But we all know where the compensation lies in this case. It is in such circ.u.mstances that grand manhood is grown, while too often the petted, pampered sons of luxury come to nothing. In the rugged hills of toil and hardship, life's finest gold is found.

There are few things from which young people of wealthy families suffer more than from over-help. No n.o.ble-spirited young man wants life made too easy for him by the toil of others. What he desires is an opportunity to work for himself. There are some things no other one can give us; we must get them for ourselves. Our bodies must grow through our own exertions. Our minds must be disciplined through our own study. Our hearts' powers must be developed and trained through our own loving and doing. One writes of two friends and two ways of showing friendship:--

"One brought a crystal goblet overfull Of water he had dipped from flowing streams That rose afar where I had never trod-- Too far for even my quickened eye to see.

They were fair heights, familiar to his feet-- They were cool springs that greeted him at morn, And made him fresh when noon was burning high, And sang to him when all the stars were out; His hand had led them forth, and their pure life Was husbanded, with sacred thrift, for flower, And bird, and beast, and man. The hills were his, And his the bright, sweet water. Not to me Came its renewal. I was still athirst.

"The other looked upon me graciously, Beheld me wasted with my bitter need, And gave me--nothing. With a face severe, And prophet brow, he bade me quickly seek My own hard quarry--there hew out a way For the imprisoned waters to flow forth Unhindered by the stubborn granite blocks That shut them in dark channels. I sprung up, For that I knew my Master; and I smote, Even as Moses, my gray, barren rock, And found sufficient help for all my house, All my servants, all my flocks and herds."

The best friend we can have is the one, not who digs out the treasure for us, but who teaches and inspires us with our own hands to open the rocks and find the treasures for ourselves. The digging out of the iron will do us more good than even the iron itself when it is dug out.

Shoes of iron are promised only to those who are to have rugged roads, not to those whose path lies amid the flowers. There is a comforting suggestion here for all who find peculiar hardness in their life.