The secret of successful life

Preface

*T* HE science of life is the supreme science. The art of living is the finest of fine arts. One who knows what is essentially good, and gains it, and who knows also what is of permanent value, and acquires it, possesses that science, and practices the art of living.

Men wish success in life. Men seek such things as gratify desire, save from suffering, and give a sense of security and the joy of possessing power.

One who studies himself must know that his real life, his pleasure and his power alike, consists in feeling, affection, thought, desire, choice, and power of action. What adds to these, increases life ; what lessens these, destroys life.

Whatever will make a man normal in feeling, sweet in spirit, pure in affection, clean in imagination, vigorous in thought, wise in choice, calm in contentions, serene in storms, brave in danger, patient under provocation, resolute in disappointment, constant in purpose, and hopeful of the future, is of extreme value in the promotion of life.

"Know thyself" is an old Greek proverb. One may well begin to learn the way of life by a study of himself. Man should heed his deepest hunger. He should give hospitality to his highest desire. He should accept and cultivate his most intimate and enduring relations.

Man is a soul. He has a body. He exists in relationship. He lives in a state whose laws are bio-

4 Preface

logical and must be interpreted by the action of vital laws.

Fifty years ago, an eminent teacher of theology was accustomed to give as the method of study this formula: "Is there a God? Has God spoken? What has God said?" A more modern and a more scientific method of procedure would follow this method of inquiry: "Is there a man? Has man spoken — and spoken out of his heart? Has an answer come to man from the heart of God?"

Therefore, in the following pages, the reader is directed to the study of man himself, to those evident laws under which man lives, to the cry of the human heart, and to the answer which has come and still comes to that cry.

Human life viewed in various aspects is a pang, a prayer, a promise, and a prophecy.

W. W. M.

Leominster, Mass., January, 1 91 8.

Contents

Chapter Page

I Hunger 9

II Bread 24

Chapter I

A STONE never hungers. A stone never grows. ^^ Hunger belongs to life. The quality of hunger is an index of the grade of life.

In the city of Naples, on the shore of the beautiful bay, is an excellent aquarium. One day, in this aquarium, standing by a glass tank, I saw in the water what looked like fine sea-weed with stem, branch and frond. As I looked with admiration on this beautiful form, I saw one slender branch and then another, touched by no breath of air or wavelet of water, shoot out slowly like an arm, close like a hand, and then draw back again having grasped something which was invisible to me. I knew by that one action that the object on which I looked was not a plant but an animal. That one act revealed a certain dim consciousness and automatic power, lifted the seeming plant out of the kingdom of vegetable life into the kingdom of animal life and showed to me its kinship with birds and beasts and even with myself. I had found a remote and lowly cousin.

On the shore of the sea at low tide, one may see what look like acorns or brown buds clinging to the rock. When the tide comes in bringing delicate jelly fish and atoms of animal substance, these brown io The Secret of Successful Life

buds open, like the petals of a flower, and throw out tentacles which grasp minute portions of animal substance and enclose them, giving evidence thereby that they feed on organic matter, as animals feed, and not on inorganic matter, as plants feed. The food which these anemones crave and eat, indicates the grade of their life.

Naturalists say that the first expression and indication of animal life is irritability or sensitiveness to impressions, as a hand is sensitive to a substance which may be touched, or as an eye is sensitive to sunlight. One may also say that the first distinct consciousness of animal life is hunger and that the first volitional act of animal life is search for food. That old woman who lying on her death-bed was asked by her pastor what she had enjoyed most in life, and who promptly replied, "My vittles," expressed the basal desire and the primal satisfaction of every animal. Had this woman risen higher during her long years of life, she might have stated something other than "vittles" as giving most satisfaction; but, in any event, it would have been the gratification of some hunger. Hunger is the first and the most imperative appetite of every body. Hunger is the first and most permanent passion of every mind. The gratification of hunger by appropriate food is the condition of bodily growth and of mental development. It is likewise the condition of individual satisfaction.

If the plant-like animal which I saw in the aquarium had failed to find food, it would have drooped and died. It might have been surrounded by mineral substances on which plants feed, but its inherent incapacity to convert mineral substance into living tissue, and its inability to find its own kind of food, would have doomed it to speedy death.

Every living creature must find the kind and the quality of food upon which its own nature may feed and be satisfied if it attains perfection and even if it continues to live.

Protozoa which multiply by gemination or division, hunger simply for food; with food supplied each protozoan reaches the limit of its possibilities. But in all higher forms of animal life, the sexual nature desires association and correspondence with the opposite sex. It should be noted, also, that there is a hunger whose source is not in the body but in the soul, which craves not physical food but spiritual communion, which expresses itself in the longing of love and which is satisfied only by being loved.

In the animal kingdom below man, hunger seems limited, mainly, to those desires which bear relation to the preservation of the individual and to the perpetuation of the species. I say, mainly, because there is some love of beauty and of music to be found below the grade of mankind.

Man, however, for whom many definitions have been given, may be described as a hunger — growing, vast, well-nigh insatiable. Hunger is the spring of the manifold activities of man. Labor is performed and endured in the hope that some hunger may be satisfied by labor's product. Some may think that men labor to give outlet and expression to an inherent energy, but until men have acquired a habit of work, little work is done save in hope that there will be a reward in some personal satisfaction. Few persons enjoy solitaire. The zest of play increases in games where there is a possibility of victory, with its accompaniment of praise. Men toil for bread, for shelter, for the comfort of pleasant surroundings, for the gratification of esthetic tastes and for the means of securing and preserving love. The lust of possession, of place, and of power, has incited men to adventure and to war.

What a history of labor, warfare, government, art, literature, and religion may be read by the traveler in the ruins, the monuments, the buildings, and the present products of men around the Mediterranean sea. Men have invented instruments of labor; they have fashioned weapons of warfare; they have marched in phalanxes; they have fought battles for possession of lands; they have contended for praise of men; they have woven garments of beauty; they have built palaces of splendor; they have carved statues to delight the eye; they have sung songs to charm the ear; they have written essays and have printed books that the mind might be fed both with fiction and with truth; they have built altars and temples ; they have ordained priests ; they have offered sacrifices and conducted religious rituals that the troubled conscience might have peace and the struggling soul might have rest. All these manifold forms of production on the part of an inventive, active, and aggressive civilization have been for the purpose of feeding the hunger of the body and of slaking the thirst of the soul. They have been wrought in order that the life of which hunger is the cry might be complete.

Sometimes labor has been misdirected ; sometimes labor has been expended for that which is not bread ; sometimes men have spent their gains for that which has not satisfied ; but the desires have been most natural and the effort has been most significant. He would be a singular and an unscientific man who should affirm that any hunger has no true significance and that what satisfies hunger may be a lie. Hunger is fundamentally a cry for what is good ; and that which really satisfies it is bread.

Deep in the heart of humanity is a hunger, permanent and persistent, which no material bread, no physical love, and no human ministry can satisfy. This is a hunger for God. It is a longing for the presence, the help, and the approval of the living and loving God. There may be individual men who have not felt this hunger or who, more likely, having felt, have not understood what it meant and what it asked. All men, however, feel dependence, weakness, and need. Some men, like a hungry child grasping greedily and finding that which is not bread, are vainly trying to satisfy themselves on material things and to renew their strength from physical sources, only to find at last that they are not satisfied, and sometimes to find that what they have eaten is not bread but poison.

The witness of generations is better and more trustworthy than the opinion of individual men. That which belongs to men, as men, apart from learning, culture, and philosophical reasonings, is most true. The native instincts of the heart and soul are genuine and seek after reality. Men, as men, feel their need of God. Out of desert places where nomadic tribes wander, is the cry, "O that I knew where I might find Him." Out of the forest where the hunter seeks his game, out of the sheep fold where the shepherd watches his flock, out of the tent where the soldier prepares himself for battle, comes the cry, "My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God." In the ancient, oriental Veda one may read: "Thirst came upon the worshipper, though he stood in the midst of the waters." Even out of the waters, the thirsty lifted up his cry: "O hear this my calling, Varuna, be gracious now; longing for help, I have called upon Thee." How suggestive of deep spiritual truth is this language of oriental people! Though men live in the midst of waters, yet there is thirst. They are like sailors sailing or shipwrecked in a great ocean with water all about them, still thirsting because that water cannot slake thirst nor sustain life, still crying out for the fresh water which the clouds of heaven may give that they may drink and live.

This cry of mankind does not cease. Whether it is expressed in a sigh or in a song, by sacrifice or by prayer, it is uttered in every land, it is heard in every language, it is repeated in every age.

Dr. Eastman narrating the ways of his people, the American Indians, says: At dawn an Indian will take his stand alone on the prairie or on a hilltop and silently, adoringly, trustfully lifting his face towards the suiirise, will seek the blessing of the invisible

Spirit of life.

On Huntington Avenue, Boston, in front of the Museum of Fine Arts, is a bronze statue of an Indian sitting on a barebacked horse, motionless, silent, with uplifted face craving communion with God. This statue in such a place is suggestive of the fact that to the modern man whose product is the highest art, as to the primitive man whose frail products soon pass away, light, inspiration, skill, and power have their true source not in man himself, but in the creative spirit whom we call God.

As we trace the history of nations recorded on coins, in monuments, and in literature, we find everywhere the symbols and the record of religion. Images of deities abound; granite temples are exhumed from the sands of Egypt; rude stone altars were built on the rocky hills of Palestine ; the beautiful ruin of the Parthenon crowns the acropolis of Athens ; the Pantheon stands in the heart of Rome ; stories of the worship of the Druids adorn the classic page of Tacitus; the traditional mythology of the Northmen awakens profound interest; prayers, hymns, and discussions of the deep things of the soul are found in the literature of the farthest East. Plutarch has said : "If we traverse the world, it is possible to find cities without walls, without letters, without kings, without wealth, without coin, without schools, and without theatres; but a city without a temple, or that practiseth not worship, prayers, and the like, no one ever saw."

Writers on the customs of primitive men tell us that though such men are likely to be reticent on the subject of religion and their manner of devotion, yet they have found no tribe without some sign or emblem of worship. The signs may be "crude, vague, and even vain; but they are there. Modern travelers would seek in vain for a land where there is no church spire, no temple, no priesthood, and no worship. All missionary propaganda would be an utter failure were there nothing in the mind and the heart of the men approached to respond to what the missionaries teach.

All the most important events among civilized nations are sanctified by religious ceremonies. Marriage, birth followed by circumcision or christening, the burial of the dead, the ritual of secret societies, the inauguration of governors and presidents, the coronation of kings and emperors, the opening of parliaments and international conventions, are hallowed by religious rites. Any custom which persistently abides among men has some reality as its basis and the continuance of any custom is evidence of its value to men.

In the Metropolitan Museum of Fine Arts in New York City is a room devoted to the collection of musical instruments. These instruments are of all sorts and from many lands. There are rude horns, hollow reeds, wind instruments of great variety, stringed instruments with two or more strings, harpsichords, old pianos and drums. A man who has heard the best of pianos played by Paderewski, the finest of violins played by Kreisler, and who has listened to the singing of Caruso, may find no music in the blast of a ram's horn, in the shrill notes of a rude flute, or in the reverbations of a drum; nevertheless, these rude instruments are symbols of a musical nature and a visible evidence of the reality of music and of its value to men. In like manner, the altars, temples, and ceremonies of religion, however crude they may be, are mute witnesses to the religious nature of mankind.

A man of unbroken health, of great physical energy, of constant application to material business, and of constant success therein, possibly may feel that religion has no place in his life and that his nature has no need of God. I say "possibly," for I do not know that there is such a man. I never have met him. But, if there is such a man, his unawakened religious nature would be no more a proof of the unreality of religion than the lack of ear and of musical sensibility on the part of one man would disprove music as a feeling and as an art; or than color blindness in one person would prove the absence of color in the universe. A friend of one of the greatest singers, a prima donna of the last century, said: "I never have perceived in A — the least interest in the higher problems of mankind — in science, politics, religion, not even in belles lettres/' But the absence of interest in these things on the part of one woman highly gifted in one art, did not remove them from human life, or lessen their vital interest to multitudes of men.

Coins are an evidence of commerce; musical instruments are symbols of the musical nature of men ; marriage is a witness of man's need of communion with his kind in the mingling of love and life; religious ceremonies are outward and visible signs of an inward craving on the part of man for fellowship with God. Eucken in his work on The Problem of Humanity has said: "Life assumes the character of a yearning that soars above everything the world has to offer." A modern philosopher has said: "Not to feel evils is the greatest of all evils."

The worst lack which any man could have, would be to have no hunger. Everywhere, hunger is the primal condition, the sine qua non both of knowledge and of growth. The new-born babe instictively seeks the mother's breast and through that breast finds the mother to be the fountain of life, the shelter of love, the heart of comfort, the soul of sympathy, and the source of strength through needy years. Beginning with physical hunger and material supply, a babe growing to manhood learns to know the mother's heart and soul through the rich supplies of her love. A man coming to the period of adolescence finds it not good to be alone. He hungers for the love of a mate. He finds in mutual love which issues in marriage, one of the chief consummations of human relationship.

Now, hunger for God, a hunger which craves forgiveness when there is consciousness of sin, favor when there is need of friendship, strength when there is weakness, comfort when there is sorrow, and hope of life when the shadow of death falls, is the one great, growing hunger in the heart of man which no bread springing from earth can satisfy and which no ministry proceeding from human hearts can meet*

John Fiske in his work, Through Nature to God, has said: "Of all the implications of the doctrine of evolution with regard to man, I believe the very deepest and strongest to be that which asserts the everlasting reality of religion." Professor Carpenter in his work on Mental Philosophy has said: "The only sound basis for religion consists in man's own religious consciousness; since it is impossible that any revelation should make a man religious whose inner nature does not respond to its teachings, as that any instruction should make a man a musician, who has not a musical ear." Saint Augustine uttered a great truth when in addressing God he said: "Thou madest us for Thyself and the heart is restless till it rests in Thee." It is true that even in the pursuit of religion, men may spend their money for that which is not bread and their labor for that which does not satisfy ; but the pursuit evinces the hunger, and the labor shows the willingness of men to make effort to find the bread of life. In the thought of men altars are a way of approach unto God, sacrifices are means of securing divine favor, priests are agents for intercession, prayers have power to bring divine help. Where unworthy means of approach to God are used, or where worthy means are used in a mistaken mode, nevertheless, they attest man's conscious need of God. Failure in the means or in the method of approaching God, may suggest the necessity of a revelation and a gift of grace from God to man in order that there may be true knowledge, pure worship, and eternal life.

No man will know himself aright or gain real success in life unless he gives heed to his hunger. A superficial hunger, which is some craving of the flesh, never should be permitted to suppress the deeper hunger, which is a craving of the spirit. The hunger for bread which comes from earth never should be permitted to become so imperative as to make one forget the hunger for bread which comes from heaven. It is natural for a babe to hunger first for the milk which flows from a mother's breast ; but it would be pitiful and painful, if in all the years of life a child never should hunger for the love which flows from a mother's heart. That child would be abnormal, incomplete, and unworthy who never should know, or trust, or be grateful for a mother's love. It is natural for a man to seek that bread which will satisfy any physical or mental hunger; but that man is abnormal, incomplete, and unworthy who never feels, or trusts, or praises, the love of God.

It takes air as well as water, sunshine as well as soil, heaven as well as earth, to produce a flower with fine form, vivid color, and sweet fragrance. In like manner, it takes not only earth and men but the light of truth, the warmth of love, and communion of the Spirit of God to make and perfect a man.

You will do irrevocable injustice to yourself and you will insure failure instead of success in life, if you do not heed the craving of your heart, give place to conscience, and obey those impulses which prompt you to seek communion with the living God. Many fail not by the choice, at first, of things which are wicked and worthless, but by putting things good in themselves and in their place before things which are better and which are essential to a complete character. By the choice of something good in itself but not the highest good, men lose the best. Many persons, for the sake of something which they wish very much at the time, somether the cry of the heart, silence the voice of conscience, grieve the Spirit of God, and fail of eternal life. This is just what Jesus saw and against which he warned men. Jesus bade men heed the deeper things of their own nature and put the higher things of life first. He charged men not to make material good a matter of first importance. He warned them against the danger of keeping the thought fixed on things to eat and to wear. He called them to seek first the kingdom of heaven. He urged them to love and to do good. He commanded them to trust God. He assured them that the things needed for the lower life would be given them. He said that the higher life is of such value to the world and of such worth in the sight of God that, as the lilies are clothed in beauty and the birds are bountifully fed, all needed supplies are given to God's spiritual children.

Men err by reversing the order of Jesus. Men place the demand for bread for the body first and bid the soul wait till a later time. The result is that, as an appetite may be lost — an appetite for bread, an appetite for music, an appetite for love — so the hunger and the desire for God may die. This is lamentable.

A moment's thought will convince you that man is a dependent creature. He is unable to live without air, unable to expand in thought without the touch of other minds, unable to become complete without love.

The life of a man absolutely depends on some power greater than himself and greater than his fellow men. And where should the creature of a day rest rather than upon the Eternal? Where should the weak seek and find strength rather than in the Strong? Where should the imperfect look for completion rather than to the Source of perfection? Where should he whose life so easily fails turn for immortality rather than to Him whose life is self-existent and everlasting?

And where else should God who is a spirit in essence and love in quality, deign to dwell rather than in the human heart? If God is in the universe creating, keeping, clothing, and beautifying things inanimate, things without intelligence, without conscience, without love which can never know Him and never love Him, how much more should He dwell lovingly and graciously with human souls which feel their need of Him and which give Him love and praise? "Neither stars, nor sea, nor smiling nature hold God so intimately as the bosom of the soul. ,, In the soul itself, a sense of dependence, of emptiness, of yearning for approval, of longing for favor and love may grow into a great hunger which voices itself in the language of the psalmist: "As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after Thee, O God." The testimony of those who have thus cried, in all ages, is to the effect that God hears the cry of the hungry, answers the need of the distressed, impresses the kiss of forgiveness upon the contrite, and renews the strength of the soul which waits on Him.

The witness of all past generations agrees in the instruction given to the men of each succeeding generation. 'Tut thou thy trust in the Lord, and be doing good; leave off from wrath, and let go displeasure, else shalt thou be moved to do evil. Commit thy way unto the Lord and put thy trust in Him. He shall make thy righteousness as clear as the light, and thy just dealing as the noonday."

Jesus teaches that hunger is the condition of satisfaction; that humility is the condition of exaltation; that poverty is the condition of possessing wealth. Let, then, a sense of sin impel you to seek forgiveness; let a sense of weakness lead you to the source of strength; let sorrow find a fountain of comfort; let fear of death lead you to Him who gives eternal life. Any condition or circumstance in life which awakens a longing for the knowledge of God and for communion with Him is a blessing. The history of mankind, personal experience, and the deep sense of need in the heart itself, all assert man's dependence upon God unto whom man's desire should flow. Therefore, in making an inventory of your assets, do not fail to include your hunger. That of all things may prove the condition of a perfect life. Jesus has said: "Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness; for they shall be filled. ,,

Chapter II

A FEW years since, in the city of New York, on ^*One Hundred and Twenty-Fifth Street, in a hall used for an exhibit of the effects of tuberculosis and the means of its prevention, was a sign with this inscription: "You can live three weeks without bread ; you can live three days without water ; you can live three minutes without air." This sign was, approximately, correct in its time measurements; it was entirely correct in its truth. A man may live a little longer without bread than without air; but bread, as well as air, is essential to the continuance of life.

Ben Akbar halted his camel in the desert whither he had wandered apart from his caravan. He lifted his eyes and, faint from hunger and thirst, looked longingly over the billowy sands glowing like gold in the level rays of the slowly sinking sun. The strength of his camel was spent and Ben Akbar knew that his own thirst would leave him prostrate and dying before another day would close. He surveyed the horizon, sweeping almost the entire circumference of the visible circle without seeing any sign of life. He was ready to surrender himself to certain death when, in the southeast, he saw dimly against the sky, dark tufts which his keen eye knew to be the crest of palm trees. Ben Akbar with a glad heart urged his weary beast forward encouraging him with a voice of hope. As the sun sank and twilight deepened, he arrived at an oasis with its fountain of water, its palms, and its fruit. Ben Akbar dismounted from his kneeling camel, threw himself prostrate in prayer, and then lifting his eyes heavenward in gratitude exclaimed, "Allah, I thank Thee." He had found the water and the bread which would sustain life.

On the plains of Egypt, I have seen lines of veiled women wending their way to streams fed from the Nile to find water for their daily need. The traveler in Palestine may see women leaving a village and ascending a hill where there is a spring, or descending into a valley where there is a well, to draw water for household use.

One of the most pathetic sights in a great city is a bread line of men out of work, standing at the hour of midnight by a great bakery to receive the loaf of bread offered each man in line. Many things these men may do without. Bread they must have, or die. Shelter may be of the slightest, clothing may be of the poorest, and in some climates these could be dispensed with altogether; but bread men must have. Bread and water are necessaries. They are the indispensable substances on the table of the poor. They are the essence of every feast on the table of the rich. The most sumptuous banquet may be varied, beautifully decorated, highly colored, and finely flavored ; but, in its base, it is just bread and water.