The belief in the doctrine of growth is of infinite moment to a young
man. The difference between one man and another lies here. Find a
young man who does not believe in the doctrine of moral growth, or is
indifferent to it, and you may safely affirm that waste or perdition
is being invisibly inscribed upon his forehead. On the other hand, let
a young man be thoroughly persuaded of the possibility of the highest
moral and spiritual progress, and he not only has hold of a truth that is
saving, but if faithful, he will reach a majesty of character, a force,
and a beauty of spirit of which no mortal can conceive. Let me illustrate
the subject of this address. You look at a seed-corn when lodged in the
earth. Growth is its law. After the first discipline of wintry frosts,
it uplifts its stalk beneath the warm breath of the south; then unwraps
from its careful green foldings its delicate ear, and lifts it up for the
golden sun to ripen it. Arrived at perfection, it offers itself to man
for higher uses, and becomes part of his strength. Or, again, the acorn
having found its place in the favorable soil, puts out feelers, and sends
them into the earth for more moisture. Modestly it breaks through the
ground to take its place among its compeers of the forest; drinks in the
air, rains, and dew of heaven; extends its little branches, twigs, and
leaflets, that its receiving-power may be greater. Growth, unceasing, is
its law. Its beauty is the charm of the woods in May; its topmost leaves
quiver in the breeze of summer; its strong arms beat back the storms of
autumn; and for generations and centuries it grows in its magnificent
completeness.
And who shall limit the growth of a young man? How true of him, “it
doth not yet appear what we shall be.” Like the youth who climbed
mountain-heights with “the banner of strange device,” so he may ever see
“_not yet_” shining like a star on the brow of the future. The youth,
the trusting Christian, the devoted worker, the mature saint are but the
lowest steps of his ever-ascending destiny.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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