Third—Don’t leave yourself out of the picture. Hope the best for yourself. George Eliot, in her Scenes of Clerical Life, gives, in one chapter, an account of how the Rev. Amos Barton is criticised and discussed in his parish. In the next chapter we see the Rev. Amos himself going on his way blissfully unconscious of the poor opinion in which he is held, believing quite honestly in himself, and not a little proud of his abilities. “We are poor plants,” says this keen student of character, “buoyed up by the air vessels of our own conceit.” And a blessed thing, too, when you think of it! If we only knew all the disparaging remarks people make about us, we should never face up to our duties at all. What helps us along is our innocent belief in our powers, in the esteem in which we are held—our little conceits, if you like. Since they send us to our tasks with more spirit, and keep us at them with more determination, aren’t they good things in their way? They are indeed just a lower form of that hope that we are speaking of—Hope’s poor relations.
If these are of such value, how much more pure quiet steady Hope itself, purged of all pride and undue self-esteem? Hope the best for yourself, and you are already a good way on the road to it. Suggestion is a tremendously powerful instrument, even when you make it yourself. By self suggestion, the psychologists tell us, you can influence your actions, your character, and your general outlook in a wonderful fashion, either to your advantage or your hurt. Therefore, they say, be careful never to suggest evil to yourself. Never say to yourself, “I’m going to make a mess of this,” or “I am not fit for that.” Suggest success, happiness, health, and you beckon them to you. Hope the best for yourself, and you pave the way for its coming.
On higher planes, the same holds true. Hope on, and, though you fall you will rise again. Believe that you will be enabled to face your trouble or temptation, and you will be brought through it somehow. Even when the end of life is near, hope still, for beyond this best there is a better, and God’s road winds uphill all the way.
But, you say, this is just faith. I know it is. Run your hopes for yourself up as high as you can reach, and they will touch God and become faith. That is why you are to hope the best for yourself. Because—God. Because God the Father loves you, and desires the best for you too. I believe in the optimism which Stephenson’s motto embodies, because I believe in the Fatherhood of God through our Lord Jesus Christ. That is why I counsel you to go on hoping that the best is yet to be. Not that we can earn it at all, or that we deserve it at all. But—because God, our Father. And, for the daring and faith of that saying, this sufficient ground.—Because—Jesus Christ.
Prayer
Help us all, Heavenly Father, to meet the discipline of life with stouter hearts. May we all try harder to cultivate the Christlike mark of charity. And spite of our many sins and shortcomings, and our poor love of Thee, grant us the courage to believe that all things, in Thy great Love for us, are working together for our good. We ask it for Jesus’ sake. Amen.
IV
Finical Farming
“He that observeth the wind shall not sow, and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap.”
Ecclesiastes 2:4
When a man like the writer of Ecclesiastes gives his views on life, it is worth everybody’s while to listen. A tabloid of experience is worth a ton of theory. And it is from his own knowledge of men and experience of life that he has discovered that “he that observeth the wind shall not sow, and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap.”
Was ever a temper of mind, that we all know something about, more neatly hit off than that? You can see the very picture which this wise preacher had before his eyes. Agricola was a farmer in his parish who would not sow his fields unless the wind was blowing soft and gentle from a certain direction, and the clouds were just as he wished to see them. He held there was no hope of a harvest unless wind and clouds were right. And I observed, says the wise man, that Agricola, my farmer friend, waiting for the exactly suitable conditions, never got his seed in at all.
He was speaking chiefly about benevolence and charity when he used this figure. And that is one reason why we need to give heed to it. For ours is an age of charity. We give more to the poor and needy today than ever any nation gave before. It is said, indeed, that a good deal of our giving is not very wise. Our charities overlap. The truly necessitous are forgotten, and the improvident, the lazy, and the wasteful reap the largest share. Certainly that is one of the perils of charity-giving. But I question very much if, in our efforts to avoid it, we are not running the risk of falling into a graver mistake still, namely, of observing the wind overmuch before we sow. If I refuse to give my mite for Christ’s sake
