^ The regret we have for our childhood is not wholly justifiable : so much a man may lay down without fear of public ribaldry ; for although we shake our heads over the change, we are not unconscious of the manifold advantages of our new state. What we lose in generous impulse we more than gain in the habit of generously watching others ; and the capacity to enjoy Shakespeare may balance a lost appetite for playing at soldiers.^
^ Let us never fancy that the path of life is a path that steadily declines and slopes downward. It is true "heaven lies about us in our infancy." It is true that " the vision splendid " is often unveiled to young eyes. But it is still more true that heaven and God and " the vision splendid " are far nearer and closer to the man or woman who, in the battle of life, holds fast by truth and right and holiness, and pushes on, carrying a daily cross, along the rough, painful road of duty and faith and earnest living. It is a cruel mistake, and a most faithless one, to suppose that the beginning of life is better than the end of life, and that the days of youth are purer and better and of more value than the days of mature manhood and experienced old age.
^ The David whom we love and admire, the David who has helped and enriched countless souls, and sent the echo of his song down through the centuries and won for himself deathless glory and fame in the Church of God, is not the boy of Bethlehem, dreaming in the fields and sitting by the well at the gate in all the charm of golden youth. The David who helps us and bids ' R. L. Stevenson, Child's Play.
2 SAMUEL XXIII. 15 375
us be of good cheer is the man of many trials and many troubles ; the man of vast experience, much sorrow, much prayer ; the man of a " broken and a contrite heart," wounded and showing the scars of many a fight. David is dear to us because he stands before us as one who, with infinite toil and labour, and with sweat of brain and heart, gained the mastery of himself ; and who, in spite of defeats, failures, and sins, held fast, sometimes almost with desperation, by what is best and highest ; and so found at last the true end of life, which is the knowledge and peace of God.i
^ It is the experiences of our lives that are truly valuable. It is our sorrows and our joys, our exaltations and enthusiasms, that are really so much to us. Lives grow richer as they grow older. So long as a man really lives, he is continually establishing new relations with all the things about him. Every year some new object becomes representative and suggestive of some deep ex- perience of life. One year his business becomes glorified with all the spiritual discipline of threatened failure and restored prosperity. Another year his family life is deepened and softened by bereavement. Again, his country's danger lifts patriotism into a passion. And yet again his body grows sacred to him by the mysterious touch of God in sickness. Always there is a new value coming into things which sinks the old and makes them new to him.^
4. When David realized the gain that the years had brought, he thanked God and was satisfied. For David the water of the Bethlehem well had become wine — the red wine of the sacrament of selfless love. He could no longer think of himself, but of these three devoted hearts and of the God to whom he felt he in the long-run owed the priceless draught of human afifection which had so mightily refreshed his weary soul. Their unselfish readiness to sacrifice themselves in order to gratify a chance wish, uttered in a despondent hour, made him unselfish too — nay, made him more than unselfish, made him go straight to God in a fervour of thanksgiving, and talk about it to Him as if He would be sure to understand it, and recognize its true value. In that moment David rose again to the stature of a man of God. He could thank God for what the years had brought ; he could thank God for the losses they had brought as well as the gains.
^ W. Harrison. » Phillips Brooks.
376 THE WELL BY THE GATE
An easy thing, 0 Power Divine,
To thank Thee for these gifts of Thine !
For summer's sunshine, winter's snow,
For hearts that kindle, thoughts that glow.
But when shall I attain to this —
To thank Thee for the things I miss?
For all young Fancy's early gleams. The dreamed-of joys that still are dreams, Hopes unfulfilled, and pleasures known Through others' fortunes, not my own, And blessings seen that are not given, And never will be, this side heaven.
Had I too shared the joys I see,
Would there have been a heaven for me?
Could I have felt Thy presence near.
Had I possessed what I held dear?
My deepest fortune, highest bliss,
Have grown perchance from things I miss.
Sometimes there comes an hour of calm; Grief turns to blessing, pain to balm; A Power that works above my will Still leads me onward, upward still : And then my heart attains to this, — To thank Thee for the things I miss.^