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It has sometimes been suggested that to make us fully thankful, everything we have should be taken from us, and then one at a time, each cherished and essential thing should be given back to us again.
There are two things in life of exceeding importance: One is to decide, and the other is to decide rightly. To be torn between two alternatives without being able to make up one's mind is a time-consuming, peace-destroying factor that can do much to nullify effectiveness.
There is a sentence from one of the writings of Samuel Taylor Coleridge that suggests a deeply significant subject: "Veracity," be said, "does not consist in saying, but in the intention of communicating truth." Too often it is assumed that the truth has been told if someone simply says the right words.
In the history of ancient Israel there are some sobering sentences from Joshua for the solemn consideration of his people and for us also: "And Joshua said unto all the people, Thus saith the Lord God of Israel . . . I brought your fathers out of Egypt ... and the Egyptians pursued after your fathers with chariots and horsemen unto the Red sea. And when they cried unto the Lord, he put darkness between you and the Egyptians, and brought the sea upon them, and covered them; and your eyes have seen what I have done in Egypt …and I brought you into the land of the Amorites,… and they fought with you: and I gave them into your hand,… Then ... the king of Moab, arose and warred against Israel, . ..And ye went over Jordan, and came unto Jericho: and the men of Jericho fought against you . . . and I delivered them into your hand ... And I have given you a land for which ye did not labour, and cities which ye built not, and ye dwell in them; of the vineyards and olive yards which ye planted not do ye eat. Now therefore fear the Lord and serve him in sincerity and in truth."
It sometimes seems that we live much of our lives by trial and error. (And, parenthetically, may we observe in passing, when our errors are more numerous than they need to be, our trials are also.) Our own errors are often the ones we best understand and generously make allowances for—but not so always with the errors and inefficiency of others. We often wonder why others don't do better.
One of the most obvious evidence of man's ingenuity is the excuses he contrives to make. The variety and plausibility of our explanations to ourselves and to others for our failures to perform seem sometimes to exceed the fabrications of fiction.
There are two extremes of attitude in which a man may find himself and which have always proved to be perilous. One is an overpowering sense of fear—and the other, a false sense of security.
There seems to be little evidence that the Creator of the universe was ever in a hurry. Everywhere, on this bounteous and beautiful earth, and to the farthest reaches of the firmament, there is evidence of patient purpose and planning and working and waiting.
Perhaps few if any of us escape our days of depression and the feeling of being down and discouraged. Fear and gnawing worry and depression of spirit are among the most common and most uncomfortable of ailments, sometimes induced by serious personal problems, sometimes by causes partly imagined, and sometimes by the whole outlook of events.
As to the difficulties of arriving at justice and fair judgment, one philosopher observed: "We must remember that we have to make judges out of men, and that by being made judges their prejudices are not diminished and their intelligence is not increased."
Perhaps most of us give way at times to actions and attitudes and utterances which we well know are below our best. But whenever we depart from being at our best, we must remember that there are at least two things for which we are constantly accountable: One is the effect our attitudes and actions have on us, and the other is the effect our attitudes and actions have on others.
Perhaps it would not be amiss again to remind ourselves that every man should have a set of sound principles to which he can turn when any proposal is presented to him.
No doubt the course of history has many times been altered because someone has had his feelings hurt. There are some classic examples that suggest themselves, one such at the siege of Troy with Achilles sulking in his tent. But for every such that has been publicly cited, there are millions more where the lives of people have been blighted, some seriously and some superficially, because someone has had hurt feelings.
William Penn is credited with the statement that "If men be good, government cannot be bad."' On first hearing, one may be inclined to challenge the idea altogether. Certainly, there would seem to be many exceptions.
There is an old proverb that reads, "When a mouse falls into a meal sack, he thinks he is the miller himself"1—which suggests something of the sincere humility that all of us should feel in great degree.
When we are supposed to be doing something we don't do, often we have to argue with ourselves inside. A man has to give himself a reasonable reason for what he does or fails to do, and if the reason isn't a good reason, it may involve an uncomfortable contest between two sides of himself. This is true in all our obligations and activities.
There are periods perhaps in the lives of most young people when they are impatient with counsel and precautions, when they wonder why they have to be responsible to parents, why they cannot have complete independence.
Most of the men and women who move about us from day to day are carrying hidden within their hearts their share of trouble and disappointment and sorrow of one kind or another, and we, with unseeing eyes, often walk roughshod over them, not knowing their cares, not understanding their burdens.
In thinking upon the accomplishments of the pioneers and patriots of the past, we cannot help pausing in humble acknowledgment of what they did with what they had, and with gratitude for what we have that we wouldn't have had if they hadn't offered their all for the preservation of principles—the principles of truth and of freedom to follow truth.
Perhaps most of us give way at times to actions and attitudes and utterances which we would not ordinarily approve in ourselves or in others.
Sometimes we hear someone defensively say, "I haven't done anything" which suggests a subject: Innocence isn't always merely a matter of not doing anything. The privilege of life calls for positive performance, and sometimes the sins of omission are as serious as are the sins of commission. It isn't enough merely not to have done the wrong things.
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."
We are sometimes disposed to look upon people and their problems impersonally. In the many complexities of living life, in a world of so many millions of men, other people—that is other than ourselves—tend to become population per square mile, to become prospects for our products, customers for our shoes or our shirts, clients for our services, votes for our political ventures, patrons for our performances.
It sometimes seems that we are waiting for some better time to begin, for some tranquil time that doesn't come, for some starting point that is superior to the present; and we often hesitate to build, hesitate to prepare, hesitate to commit ourselves to any future plan or purpose because we don't know exactly what we can count on.
As each season closes to be followed by each successive season, we become aware that life is a series of scenes separated by closing curtains and commencements. Sometimes these commencements are formally obvious as on academic occasions, but sometimes we step almost imperceptibly from scene to scene.
A little less than a century ago Emerson offered this observation: "These times of ours are serious and full of calamity, but all times are essentially alike."1 The statement may seem somewhat oversimplified, but the very fact of its having been said suggests that in some things all times have some essentials that are the same.
One of the persistent practices of children—and of others also—is to justify what they want to do by saying that "everyone" is doing it. Parents are familiar with these phrases: "All the others are doing it." "All the other mothers are letting their children do it....... If my friend's mother will let him go, may I go?"
Somehow or other it seems that the use of language which profanes the name of Deity, has become a most flagrantly casual custom, until one may hear it sometimes in the most unexpected places and from the most unexpected people.
There come before us this day the memories of mothers. Many mothers blessedly are with us, to whom we may turn our grateful attention, but many are unreachably far from us, and when they are gone, somehow, we seem to have a sense of things we wish we had done that we didn't do.
Upon the lips and to the hearts and minds of many there sometimes comes the question: Why would an omnipotent and all-wise and just and merciful God permit such unjust and adverse events as we are all each day aware of? And, failing to find the answer that brings peace to their troubled hearts, men frequently lose faith and become critical and sometimes cynical.