| Things to Live For |
Chapter 7 |
Page 5 |
All about us are those who are forever in need of love’s ministry. For many people life is very hard. Some traveler speaks of the great stretches of the lava fields for miles around a volcano, and of the desolateness and dreariness of the paths over those fields. There was not a blade of grass, nor a shrub, nor the tiniest living thing anywhere to be seen. But here and there as he went on, he saw, in the cracks and crevices of the lava beds, little flowers growing; and flowers never before seemed so lovely, even in finest garden or conservatory, as there amid the bleakness. Like those walks across the lava fields are the paths of many in this world, with their hard toil, bitter sorrow, and heavy burden bearing; and like the lovely little flowers that so cheered the traveler in those desolate regions are the human kindnesses which here and there come with their sweet fragrance and cheer, into these dreary live.
We have it in our power to put untold gladness and help into the lives that every day touch ours. We can do it by learning this divine lesson of service, and by regarding every person we meet as one to whom we are sent on an errand of love. This attitude toward others will put an end to all supercilious pride and haughtiness. We shall no more set ourselves up on little pedestals of self conceit, demanding homage from others; rather, like our Master, we shall stand with basin and towel, ready to wash the feet of the lowliest. We shall no more think ourselves too good to perform the humblest ministries to the humblest, but shall consider it the highest honor to do the things that are least; for Jesus has said he is chiefest who serves the most.
“Lord, make us all love all, that when we meet
Even myriads of earth’s myriads at thy bar,
We may be glad as all true lovers are
Who, having parted, count reunion sweet,
Safe gathered home around thy blessed feet;
Come home by different roads from near or far,
Whether by whirlwind or by flaming car,
From pangs or sleep, safe folded round thy seat.
O, if our brother’s blood cry out to us,
How shall we meet thee who hast love us all,
Thee whom we never loved, not loving him?
The unloving cannot chant with seraphim,
Bear harp of gold or palm victorious,
Or face the vision beatifical.”
Page 5
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