the man who "flagged not
in this earthly strife,"

His soul well-knit, and all his battles won,

mount, though hardly, to eternal life. And, as he mused over his
father's grave, the conviction forced itself upon his mind that
somewhere in the "labour-house of being" there still was employment for
that father's strength, "zealous, beneficent, firm."

Here indeed is the more cheerful aspect of his "criticism of life." Such
happiness as man is capable of enjoying is conditioned by a frank
recognition of his weaknesses and limitations; but it requires also for
its fulfilment the sedulous and dutiful employment of such powers and
opportunities as he has.

First and foremost, he must realize the "majestic unity" of his nature,
and not attempt by morbid introspection to dissect himself into

Affections, Instincts, Principles, and Powers,
Impulse and Reason, Freedom and Control.

Then he must learn that

To its own impulse every action stirs.

He must live by his own light, and let earth live by hers. The forces of
nature are to be in this respect his teachers--

But with joy the stars perform their shining,
And the sea its long moon-silvered roll;
For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting
All the fever of some differing soul.

But, though he is to learn from Nature and love Nature and enjoy Nature,
he is to remember that she

never was the friend of _one_,
Nor promised love she could not give;

and so he is not to expect too much from her, or demand impossible
boons. Still less is he to be content with feeling himself "in harmony"
with her; for

Man covets all which Nature has, but more.

That "more" is Conscience and the Moral Sense.

Man must begin, know this, where Nature ends;
Nature and man can never be fast friends.

And this brings us to the idea of Duty as set forth in his poems, and
Duty resolves itself into three main elements: Truth--Work--Love. Truth
comes first. Man's prime duty is to know things as they are. Truth can
only be attained by light, and light he must cultivate, he must worship.
Arnold's highest praise for a lost friend is that he was "a child of
light"; that he had "truth without alloy,"

And joy in light, and power to spread the joy.

The saddest part of that friend's death is the fear that it may bring,

After light's term, a term of cecity:

the best hope for the future, that light will return and banis