We cannot part with our friends. We cannot let our angels go. We do not
see that they only go out that archangels may come in. We are idolaters
of the old. We do not believe in the riches of the soul, in its proper
eternity and omnipresence. We do not believe there is any force in
to-day to rival or recreate that beautiful yesterday. We linger in the
ruins of the old tent where once we had bread and shelter and organs,
nor believe that the spirit can feed, cover, and nerve us again. We
cannot again find aught so dear, so sweet, so graceful. But we sit and
weep in vain. The voice of the Almighty saith, ‘Up and onward for
evermore!’ We cannot stay amid the ruins. Neither will we rely on the
new; and so we walk ever with reverted eyes, like those monsters who
look backwards.
And yet the compensations of calamity are made apparent to the
understanding also, after long intervals of time. A fever, a
mutilation, a cruel disappointment, a loss of wealth, a loss of
friends, seems at the moment unpaid loss, and unpayable. But the sure
years reveal the deep remedial force that underlies all facts. The
death of a dear friend, wife, brother, lover, which seemed nothing but
privation, somewhat later assumes the aspect of a guide or genius; for
it commonly operates revolutions in our way of life, terminates an
epoch of infancy or of youth which was waiting to be closed, breaks up
a wonted occupation, or a household, or style of living, and allows the
formation of new ones more friendly to the growth of character. It
permits or constrains the formation of new acquaintances and the
reception of new influences that prove of the first importance to the
next years; and the man or woman who would have remained a sunny
garden-flower, with no room for its roots and too much sunshine for its
head, by the falling of the walls and the neglect of the gardener is
made the banian of the forest, yielding shade and fruit to wide
neighborhoods of men.
IV.
SPIRITUAL LAWS
The living Heaven thy prayers respect,
House at once and architect,
Quarrying man’s rejected hours,
Builds therewith eternal towers;
Sole and self-commanded works,
Fears not undermining days,
Grows by decays,
And, by the famous might that lurks
In reaction and recoil,
Makes flame to freeze, and ice to boil;
Forging, through swart arms of Offence,
The silver seat of Innocence.
SPIRITUAL LAWS
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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