l have no harbour. Admirable was that of the old Monks,
'_Laborare est Orare_, Work is Worship.'

Older than all preached Gospels was this unpreached, inarticulate, but
ineradicable, forever-enduring Gospel: Work, and therein have
wellbeing. Man, Son of Earth and of Heaven, lies there not, in the
innermost heart of thee, a Spirit of active Method, a Force for
Work;--and burns like a painfully-smouldering fire, giving thee no
rest till thou unfold it, till thou write it down in beneficent Facts
around thee! What is immethodic, waste, thou shalt make methodic,
regulated, arable; obedient and productive to thee. Wheresoever thou
findest Disorder, there is thy eternal enemy; attack him swiftly,
subdue him; make Order of him, the subject not of Chaos, but of
Intelligence, Divinity and Thee! The thistle that grows in thy path,
dig it out, that a blade of useful grass, a drop of nourishing milk,
may grow there instead. The waste cotton-shrub, gather its waste white
down, spin it, weave it; that, in place of idle litter, there may be
folded webs, and the naked skin of man be covered.

But above all, where thou findest Ignorance, Stupidity,
Brute-mindedness,--yes, there, with or without Church-tithes and
Shovel-hat, with or without Talfourd-Mahon Copyrights, or were it with
mere dungeons and gibbets and crosses, attack it, I say; smite it
wisely, unweariedly, and rest not while thou livest and it lives; but
smite, smite, in the name of God! The Highest God, as I understand it,
does audibly so command thee; still audibly, if thou have ears to
hear. He, even He, with his _un_spoken voice, awfuler than any Sinai
thunders or syllabled speech of Whirlwinds; for the Silence of deep
Eternities, of Worlds from beyond the morning-stars, does it not speak
to thee? The unborn Ages; the old Graves, with their long-mouldering
dust, the very tears that wetted it now all dry,--do not these speak
to thee, what ear hath not heard? The deep Death-kingdoms, the Stars
in their never-resting courses, all Space and all Time, proclaim it to
thee in continual silent admonition. Thou too, if ever man should,
shalt work while it is called Today. For the Night cometh, wherein no
man can work.

All true Work is sacred; in all true Work, were it but true
hand-labour, there is something of divineness. Labour, wide as the
Earth, has its summit in Heaven. Sweat of the brow; and up from that
to sweat of the brain, sweat of the heart; which includes all Keple