orms and complexions of human experience, one thing is
pledged beyond all doubt to every man who seeks the will of God and the
promise for the safeguarding of his soul. He may write this at the top of
every page in the book of life. He may take it for his light in dark days,
his comfort in sad days, his treasure in empty days. He may have it on his
lips in the hour of battle and in his heart in the day of disappointment.
He may meet his temptations with it, interpret his sufferings with it,
build his ideal with it. And it shall come to pass that he shall learn to
look with untroubled eyes upon the outward things of life, nor fear the
touch of its thousand grasping hands, knowing that his soul is in the hands
of One who can keep it safe in all the world's despite, even God Himself.

VI.

A PLEA FOR TEARS

They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.
He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed,
Shall doubtless come again with rejoicing,
Bringing his sheaves with him.

Ps. cxxvi. 5, 6.

It is almost impossible to recall the joys and sorrows of life without
having some thought of their compensative relation. We set our bright days
against our dark days. We weigh our successes against our failures. When
the hour through which we are living is whispering a bitter message, we
recall the kindlier messages of other hours and say that we have much for
which we ought to be thankful. And such a deliberate handling of
experience, such a quiet adjustment of memories, is not without its uses.
Any view of life that will save a man from whining is worth taking. Any
reckoning that will prevent a man from indulging in self-pity--that
subtlety of selfishness--is worth making. There is, moreover, something
very simple and obvious in this way of thinking and judging. To make one
kind of experience deal with another kind, to set the days and the hours in
battle array--or shall we say to arrange a tourney where some
gaily-caparisoned and well-mounted Yesterday is set to tilt with a
black-visored and silent To-day--is a way of dealing with life which seems
to have much to commend it. But it has at the best serious limitations, and
at the worst it may issue in a tragedy. The wrong knight may be unhorsed.
The award may go to him of the black plume. Pitting one experience against
another has gone to the making of many a cynic and not a few despairing
souls. The compensative interpretation of joy and sorrow may bring