One Thing I Do

Here is a great deal of waste in all lines of life, because men scatter their energies over too wide a field. Instead of doing one thing well, they do a dozen things indifferently. No one is great enough to do everything. In the arts and professions men are more and more becoming specialists. Even ordinary ability would be sure of success if it found its true place and then devoted itself wholly to its work. Though a man may fail again and again, if he persists and never becomes discouraged, he will at last succeed.

Blest is the man of high ideals, Who fails to-day, to-morrow, and for days to come, But never lowers his standards, nor surrenders to defeat,

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Till hand and foot, till eye and ear,

Till vocal cord and tongue.

Till mind and heart are disciplined,

And all abilities of body and of soul

Are marshalled by the Will

And move onward to the drumbeat of perfection.”

There is a remarkable direction in our Lord’s instruction to the Seventy. Among other things, he bade them salute no man by the way. The salutations of those days were tedious and required much time, and the errands on which his messengers were sent were urgent and required haste. Not a moment must be lost on the way. When a disciple begged to be allowed to bury his father before going on his errand, the Master refused the request. The dead could bury their own dead, and he must hasten to carry the gospel message.

If we would concentrate all our energies in one purpose, we should do all our work better. We would then always do our best, even in the commonest things of our daily taskwork. If we are writing only a postal- [148] flDne Clfng 91 ?©o

card to a friend, we will do it as carefully as if we were writing a letter of greatest importance. We would gather all the forces of our heart into the simplest kindness we show to anyone. There are authors who have written one or two books of great interest and value and then have grown indifferent, doing nothing more worth while. They were too well satisfied with their early success or a little praise turned their heads, and they never did their best again.

“// at first you do succeed,

Try again!
Life is more than just one deed;

Try again.
Never stop with what you’ve done.
More remains than you have won,
Full content’s vouchsafed to none;

Try again!

An old painter, after standing long in silent meditation before his canvas, with hands crossed meekly on his breast and his head bent reverently, said, “May God forgive me [149] fjfinDing tle Wa

that I did not do it better.” There are many of us who ought to have the same experience of penitence as we contemplate the things we have done. We should continually implore forgiveness for doing our work so poorly, for we are not doing our best. If only we would learn to put all the energy of our souls into each piece of work we do, we should make a radiant record for ourselves.

In our Christian life we should seek only one thing — the attainment of the highest reaches in character and service. If an absorbing passion for Christ ruled us, it would bring all our life into harmony with itself. A friend gave a college student a pure, inspiring and elevating picture, and asked him to hang it up in his room and keep it there for one year. The young man promised to do so. But he cared more for worldly things, for a good time, than for his studies. Then he was not as careful as he should have been about his pleasures. The friend was in the student’s room one day and saw the picture [150]

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on the wall, in a place of honor, but clustered about it were many common sporting prints, some of them of a questionable character. The beautiful picture in the center seemed strangely out of place in such unhallowed company. Yet the young man appeared entirely unaware of anything unfit in the setting, as he spoke very gratefully of his friend’s beautiful gift.

Six months later, however, the friend was again in the student’s room. There was the picture still in its honored place on the wall, but all the questionable prints were gone, and in place of them hung other pictures, pure, refining and beautiful, all of them in harmony with the picture in the center. The friend manifested much pleasure as he looked about the room and saw the transformation. The young man said in explanation, “You see, I couldn’t leave those foolish things there beside that” — pointing to the other’s gift. “The contrast was too dreadful. At first I didn’t see it, but looking at your lovely picture opened my eyes to the unfitness of the [151] finUmg tljc Wa

others, and I took them all down and burned them. Then I bought other pictures to hang up in their place, but they all had to be pure and good, and in harmony with the one in the center.”

It is always thus when Christ is taken into the chief place in the life. Everything that is not in harmony with his peerless beauty must go out, and only the things that are in keeping with the mind and spirit of Christ can have a place in the life. When Christ becomes really the one thing of our lives, there is less and less of living for self, and more and more of consecration to the service of love. Some people suppose that hoHness separates a man from his fellows, that as he becomes really like Christ he grows out of touch and sympathy with people, less interested in their human affairs, less gentle, less kindly, less human, less accessible, less helpful. But it is not the religion of Christ that produces such results. Never did any other man get so near to people as Christ himself did. He lived among [ 132 ]

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them: they loved him and trusted him, and they told him everything. When Christ truly enters a man, one of the unmistakable marks of his indwelhng is the new love that begins to appear in the man’s life. His religion made Saint Paul a friend of man, eager to help everyone he met. When Christ really gets possession of a heart, the sweet flowers of love begin to grow in the life. If we are not becoming more patient, more glad-hearted, more charitable, more kindly, more thoughtful, if there is not in us an increasing desire to help others, to do them good, we need to pray for more of the love of God in our hearts. We may tell people that Christ is still in this world, coming close to them in their needs, but he is here only as he lives in us. He has no other present incarnation but in the lives of his friends. He helps the suffering, the toiling folk, the hungry -hearted, the weak, the sorrowing, but only through us. We are likest to Christ when we are nearest to the hearts of men, when our sympathies are widest, when we are [ 153 ] ftntitng tle yat

the gentlest, when our hands are readiest to minister.

If in our hearts is the great master-purpose to live for Christ only, we will grow continually away from all that is worldly and unworthy, toward things that are spiritual and divine. Saint Paul describes himself as forgetting the things that are behind and stretching forward to the things that are before. Some people never leave anything behind them. At least they forget nothing that they should forget. They never forget an injury. They never outgrow childish things.

The life that is under the full dominance and sway of Christ is ever unfolding new beauty, and growing into holier, sweeter, humaner, diviner character and into larger, fuller usefulness. For while the beauty of Christ becomes more and more manifest in the personal life, the influence of Christ is manifested more and more distinctly in the impression made on the world. If our citizenship is truly in heaven we will carry the [ 154] flDne Cluing 9! ?©o

atmosphere of heaven with us wherever we go, and heavenly flowers and fruits will grow about U8 which but for us would not have been there. There is no more infallible test of the reality and the power of our spiritual life than in the measure of heaven we bring down into this world’s life. George Klingle puts this well in a little poem,

Is the world better or worse where I tread f What have I done in the years that are dead f What have I left on the way as I passed — Foibles to perish, or blessings to last 9 Whose is the love-voice I hear as I go? Whom do I follow through weal and through woe 9 Of what is my sword-blade — of gold or of dross? What is my standard — the world or the cross? How do I choose when the heart’s sacred cry Crosses the will of my Christ? — bid it die f What do I do when the world’s flowers are sweet-Stop in my race for the flowers at my feet? Where are my scars from — siege upon siege, Loyally fought in the cause of my liege f What is my watchword, my passport, to show The cause I contend for, the way that I go f [155] (fflntiing tle Wav

Are my steps onward, forever ahead, Never turned back to some hope sin has fed f Am I a soldier, and what is my aim f Have I left in my footprints the light of Christ’s name f

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So oft the doing of God’s will

Our foolish ways undoeth!
And yet what idle dream breaks ill

Which morning light subdueth? And who would murmur and misdoubt, When God’s great sunrise finds him out?

—E. B. Browning.