But the same Goodness in which we believe, or rather which always believes on itself, as soon as we cease to consider duties, and consider persons, becomes Love, imperious Love, that great Prophet and Poet, that Comforter, that Omnipotency in the heart. Its eye falls on some mortal form, but it rests not a moment there; but, as every leaf represents to us all vegetable nature, so love looks through that spotted, blighted form to the vast spiritual element of which it was created and which it represents. We demand of those we love that they shall be excellent in countenance, in speech, in behavior, in power, in will. They are not so; we are grieved, but we were in the right to ask it. If they do not share the Deity that dictated to our thought this immense wish, they will quickly pass away, but the demand will not die, but will go on accumulating as the supply accumulates, and the virtues of the soul in the remotest ages will only begin to fulfil the first craving of our poor heart. I count you happy that your soul suggests to you such affectionate and noble errands to other spirits as the wish to give them your happiness and your freedom. That the Good Heart, which is the heart of us all, may still enrich you with new and larger impulses of joy and power is the wish of your affectionate servant, R. WALDO EMERSON James Freeman Clarke compresses his into four words (To Samuel May, Secretary of the class of '29, Harvard) JAMAICA PLAIN, February 6, 1874 EAR SAM,— It is very good of you to speak of me as you do; but I seem to myself to have been a very poor sort of a worker, and I can almost take to myself Wordsworth's lines, 66 The Constant Ideal "But he is weak, both man and boy, The things which others understand." The things I most wished to do, I have never done; the things I have done best, I have only half done. I have lived au jour le jour," and merely tried to do the nearest duty. The first sermon I ever preached had for its text (it was preached in the school) what I meant for the motto of my life, "Whatever thy hand finds to do, do it with thy might." I have kept this ideal before me, though I have never fulfilled it, whatever my hand found to do, the thing which lay at hand; not what the heart desired, not what the ambition aspired to, not what the will chose, but what the hand found. I have always believed in Providence, and so have never desponded; I have always trusted in the essential good-will of my fellow-men, and have not been deceived. This life I have held to be sweet, and the next life at least as good as this. Cheerfulness and contentment have kept me well, so far as I have kept well, both in body and mind. I have come nearer to God every year, finding in Him love which is always law, and law which is always love. My creed has grown shorter every year, until I now put it into four words, "From God, for man." -- Some day, when I am taken from you, in outward presence, but not in heart, for wherever in God's universe I may be, I shall think of our dear class still, - you will perhaps read to them this note, kept in your book till then, and so they will hear me once more speaking to them, and telling them to believe that we shall come together somewhere in the vast beyond. Truly yours, JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE The Constant Ideal "But he is weak, both man and boy, Hath been an idler in the land, The things which others understand." things I most wished to do, I have never done; the I have d est, I have only half done. I have and merely tried to do the nearest I ever preached had for its text e school) what I meant for the atever thy hand finds to do, do it ve kept this ideal before me, though The passionate protest (Celia Thaxter to Sophie Eichberg, Feb. 6, 1893) YOUR dear little note just came, and it makes my heart ache for you, and for myself, and all of us. It is so hard, my darling Sophie, so cruel hard, not to see him again here, nor with these eyes, in the old familiar places, in the old way. Oh, I feel it so deeply myself, so deeply and so sadly, and what must you feel! I know it all, all the ache and sorrow of it. If death, that change we call death, meant the end of life, then indeed might despair settle upon us, but it is only change and separation for the time being; desperately hard and sad, but not forever. Oh no, no, no! a thousand times no! At our longest, we stay here so little while, and then seek our dear ones in that selfsame road they have traveled: who shall doubt that we find them, with all their love for us, again! . . . The privilege of covenanting with God (To Jonathan Edwards) JONOURED SIR, PRINCETON, Nov. 2, 1757 Your most affectionate, comforting letter, by my brother, was exceedingly refreshing to me, although I was somewhat damped that I should not see you until spring. But it is my comfort in this disappointment, as well as under all my afflictions, that God knows what is best for me and for his own glory. Perhaps I depended too much on the company and conversation of such a near, and dear, and affectionate father and guide. I cannot doubt but all is for the best, and I am satisfied that God should order the affair of your removal as shall be for his glory, whatever |