r in vain.
Surely such men as St. Sturmi were children of wisdom, put what sense on
the word you will. In a dark, confused, lawless, cut-throat age, while
everything was decided by the sword, they found that they could do no
good to themselves, or any man, by throwing their swords into either
scale. They would be men of peace, and see what could be done so. Was
that not wise? So they set to work. They feared God exceedingly, and
walked with God. Was not that wise? They wrought righteousness, and
were merciful and kind, while kings and nobles were murdering around
them; pure and temperate, while other men were lustful and drunken; just
and equal in all their ways, while other men were unjust and capricious;
serving God faithfully, according to their light, while the people round
them were half or wholly heathen; content to do their work well on earth,
and look for their reward in heaven, while the kings and nobles, the
holders of the land, were full of insane ambition, every man trying to
seize a scrap of ground from his neighbour, as if that would make them
happier. Was that not wise? Which was the wiser, the chief killing
human beings, to take from them some few square miles which men had
brought into cultivation already, or the monk, leaving the cultivated
land, and going out into the backwoods to clear the forest, and till the
virgin soil? Which was the child of wisdom, I ask again? And do not
tell me that the old monk worked only for fanatical and superstitious
ends. It is not so. I know well his fanaticism and his superstition,
and the depths of its ignorance and silliness: but he had more in him
than that. Had he not, he would have worked no lasting work. He was not
only the pioneer of civilization, but he knew that he was such. He
believed that all knowledge came from God, even that which taught a man
to clear the forest, and plant corn instead; and he determined to spread
such knowledge as he had wherever he could. He was a wiser man than the
heathen Saxons, even than the Christian Franks, around him; a better
scholar, a better thinker, better handicraftsman, better farmer; and he
did not keep his knowledge to himself. He did not, as some tell you,
keep the Bible to himself. It is not so; and those who say so, in this
generation, ought to be ashamed of themselves. The monk knew his Bible
well himself, and he taught it. Those who learnt from him to read,
learnt to read their Bibles. Those wh
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