Courage for the Duties of Life.

I

CHARLES A. YOUNG, PH.D., LL.D., Princeton College, N. J.

SHOULD not like to maintain that courage is the noblest

and most admirable of human qualities, but in men it is certainly the one that is most applauded; the faint-hearted and cowardly are looked down upon by all. The lack of courage makes any high success impossible. There are in history many instances of men who were pre-eminent in other qualities, but failed to reach the goal for want of this; they were unrivaled in their power of organization, in their accurate perception of the condition of affairs, and in their ability to penetrate the designs of their opponents, but at the critical moment they had not the nerve to cope with the occasion, and missed the chance, if nothing worse-failed in accomplishment, if they did not suffer actual overthrow.

Courage alone of course is not enough, for unsupported by prudence and wisdom it would often bring disaster. But it is indispensable. It is needed constantly in the performance of duties that appear to be dangerous, or are even merely disagreeable,-as, for instance, in standing out for the right in opposition to the prevailing sentiment of the community, or in going counter to the wishes of those on whom we are dependent for comfort or support, or in denying ourselves indulgences known to be injurious to the cause we have at heart. Indeed, it is in such internal conflicts that true courage meets its most trying tests; these battles are in the dark; we fight with foes invisible, without any support of admiration or applauding shouts. Then, too, in business of every kind, as well as in statesmanship and war, there come continually times when risks must be taken.

One may have made his preparation with the most prudent care, may have provided, so far as possible, with far-reaching foresight for all contingencies; but there will still be adverse chances and possibilities, and they must be faced unflinchingly if one is to gain any eminent success. As a rule the greatest difference between ordinary men and those who have accomplished great things lies largely in the courage with which the latter have accepted responsibility and taken reasonable risks.

The courage requisite for life's ordinary duties is not so much physical as moral; not that the former is to be despised, for it is often greatly needed. But more frequently what one most wants is that stout-hearted loyalty to the right which accepts the claims of duty, plainly seen, as paramount to all others, and does not inquire as to the ease or agreeableness of its performance, nor hesitate for any dread of consequences. This makes a man energetic and efficient, and if he is clear sighted as to right and wrong, and has tact and skill in action, he becomes powerful for good. Undoubtedly if he is muddle-headed and ethically obtuse, this very force and fearlessness makes him a dangerous fanatic: one sometimes wishes that all fools were cowards.

There is no doubt that courage is a quality greatly to be desired, and the question comes, how can it be attained and cultivated? To a great extent, certainly, it is a matter of natural temperament; some are born brave, and from the first delight in conflict, and enjoy the stimulus of difficulty and danger. Others are chicken-hearted from infancy, and, though they may be very wise in recognizing what ought to be done and how to do it, they are afraid of shadows; they see frightful lions in every path, or walls they have no pluck to scale. The naturally fearless man is fortunate indeed, unless his bravery is mere stupidity and blindness. Life is easy for him in what for others are its hardest struggles, and his keenest delights are in experiences that are martyrdom for them. But the man not so gifted by nature can to some extent repair his defect by learning to look at things philosophically, especially by consid

ering the import of human action in its relation to characterbuilding, and to the life to come. He will consider that in the highest sense no real harm can come to one who is in the line of duty; he may suffer for the time being, but pain thus met and rightly borne is the very hand of God, molding and forming the human soul,-we are "made perfect through suffering." One will consider also that the "duty" for which he is responsible consists only in honest attempt, and not in successful achievement; the final outcome depends on many things outside ourselves, and must be left to Providence. This idea grasped firmly gives freedom from the paralyzing power of fear of failure. It was just this in President Lincoln that made him so brave, with a sad, strong courage that flinched at nothing. He had learned that the only thing for him was to do "the right as it was given him to see the right," leaving the consequences to the powers of heaven. To one thus loyal to what is highest within him, nothing that is clearly duty seems impossible or hard, for he draws upon the power of God himself.

Over the door of the great hall of Rugby school are written the noble words of Emerson::

"How nigh is grandeur to our dust,

How near is God to man!

When Duty whispers low, "Thou must,"
The youth replies, "I can."

Duty Before Glory.

REV. GEORGE A. GATES, B.D., Pres. Iowa College, Grinnell, Iowa.

"Not once or twice in our rough island-story,

The path of duty was the way to glory."

-TENNYSON'S "Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington."

T is a shrewd remark of Dr. Holmes that "fame comes to most men when they are very busy thinking about something else. It rarely comes to those who say, Go to now, let us become a celebrated individual." To set out for such a goal as glory is an altogether cheap ambition. To pursue such a phantom is better than to have no ambition, unless it be the seeking of glory at the sacrifice of all else, which is simply devilish; but the deliberate choice of such a purpose is almost sure to fail of its achievement or to end in notoriety rather than true, hence abiding, glory. Napoleon is a good example of this at its worst; a man like Disraeli at its best. To the highest natures, the pursuit of glory is a most arrant absurdity. It is just ridiculous. It is something for a man to laugh over until his diaphragm aches, even as over the performances of Don Quixote.

The older the world gets, the more it builds its monuments to those who have rendered the race conspicuous service. This was not always exclusively so, for the reason that standards of greatness have not always been as true as we flatter ourselves they are now. Ages which worship power will honor those who manifest power of some sort. But the world at its best has learned that power is not the highest, but sacrifice.

Duty nearly always means crucifixion of some sort. There is a philosophical reason for it. Ignorance resents instruction; wrong resents righting; privilege dreads liberty; intrenchments in rights yield slowly to calls to duty. So that a leader out of