* J. W. Burgon, Lives of Twelve Good Men, i. 339.
3i2 MAN'S CHIEF END
place in the hard, dusty paths of earthly toil and struggle. We must get them off the tables of stone and have them written on the walls of our own hearts. We must bring the Golden Eule down from its bright setting in the teaching of our Lord and get it wrought into our daily, actual life.
Tf The Law of God concerning man is, that if he acts as God's servant he shall be rewarded with such pleasure as no heart can conceive nor tongue tell.1
If Jenny Lind once said to John Addington Symonds, " I sing to God." Coming as it did from the heart, it was a fine expression. The famous cantatrice was deeply devout, and these words expressed the secret of her soul. She had a vivid sense of God, a boundless joy in Him, and her music was the spontaneous acknowledgment of His presence and beauty. Why should we not do all the work of life in the same spirit ? — " I sing for God " ; " I plough for God " ; "I write for God " ; "I build for God " ; " I weave for God " ; "I buy and sell for God." All that Jenny Lind sang was not strictly sacred, it was often, no doubt, secular and trivial; but she had ever a commanding sense of the heavenly presence, and sang to the God whose gladness filled her heart. So whatever our task may be we may serve Him day and night in His presence.2
Dismiss me not Thy service, Lord,
But train me for Thy will; For even I in fields so broad
Some duties may fulfil; And I will ask for no reward,
Except to serve Thee still.
How many serve, how many more
May to the service come ; To tend the vines, the grapes to store,
Thou dost appoint for some: Thou hast Thy young men at the war,
Thy little ones at home.
All works are good, and each is best
As most it pleases Thee; Each worker pleases when the rest
He serves in charity: And neither man nor work unblest
Wilt Thou permit to be. 1 Ruskin, in Cook's Life of Buskin, ii. 329. 2 W. L. Watkinson.
i CORINTHIANS x. 31 313
0 ye who serve, remember One
The worker's way who trod; He served as man, but now His throne,
It is the throne of God ; The sceptre He hath to us shown
Is like a blossoming rod.
Firm fibres of the tree of life
Hath each command of His, And each with clustering blossoms rife
At every season is; Bare only, like a sword of strife,
Against love's enemies.
Our Master all the work hath done
He asks of us to-day; Sharing His service, every one
Share too His sonship may. Lord, I would serve and be a son;
Dismiss me not, I pray.1
IV.
A Transfiguration of Drudgery and Common Toil.
1. The life of nearly every man has great spaces that are flat and uninteresting. The predominant colour is grey. Incident is rare, monotony is continuous. The same things have been done day by day, and a child's entry in a diary would report the life of many of our days, " Nothing special to-day." But, really, life is not monotonous. It is we who are monotonous. Life is full of a hidden beauty, a hidden glory — indeed, of a hidden God. We may look through its tiniest part, if it is well done and done in sincerity, and see the vision of the golden heavens, and catch suggestions of the face of Jesus. Even the most limited sphere will give us room for the discipline of our character into the beauty of heaven. And the least conspicuous life may perform ministries which are near relatives to the service of the very angels. It is the dropping of God out of life that makes life uninteresting ; it is the neglect of His presence that shadows our days. Let Him be there, let His face shine upon us, and
1 T. T. Lynch, The Rivulet.
3H MAN'S CHIEF END
the most trivial act is invested with an awful glory, and every bit of life is enhanced and transfigured with its power. The way to find blessedness is to find God ; and He is to be found in every ordinary thiug in our daily round. We always find Him when we try to do everything for His glory. " For Thy sake ! " This is life's deepest inspiration, and this its highest power. This touches us when all other motives are weak. This changes drudgery into Divinity. But to be fruitful it must be always held before the mind, and always kept in the heart. Day by day our lowliest duty must be lifted to this great height; so will the great God stoop to our lowliness, and our dustiest and most commonplace way be radiant with His infinite glory.
Tf It may be argued again that dissatisfaction with our life's endeavour springs in some degree from dulness. We require higher tasks because we do not recognise the height of those we have. Trying to be kind and honest seems an affair too simple and too inconsequential for gentlemen of our heroic mould; we had rather set ourselves something bold, arduous, and conclusive ; we had rather found a schism or suppress a heresy, cut off a hand or mortify an appetite. But the task before us, which is to co-endure with our existence, is rather one of microscopic fineness, and the heroism required is that of patience. There is no cutting of the Gordian knots of life ; each must be smilingly unravelled.1