Men and Things by Dudley Marvin Canright

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jul 18, 1871

Men and Things.

By Dudley Marvin Canright

THE SCHOOL OF LIFE.

Who has not erred, and deeply regretted it afterwards? Who has not sinned, and then felt remorse, and, may be, despair, for it? Who has not been betrayed into acts, the very thought of which brings the hot blood mantling to the cheeks, blushing with shame? We cry out in agony over our infirmities, our downfalls, and misfortunes. Why must we suffer so? To me, the following thoughts seem sweet and comforting:

“This world is a school, not for the education of a faculty, but of a man; and though life to most of us seems rather a series of make-shifts to meet unexpected emergencies than the deliberate putting forth of well-directed powers, fate is kinder to us than we know, and constantly turns our blunders to account.

“The superficial observer is always ready to despair of humanity, and in view of the fact that most characters are so fractional that every human being seems rather a bundle of antagonisms than co-ordinated forces, that nothing can be predicated of most persons with any degree of certainty, there is some excuse for his want of faith.

“We find everywhere strength and weakness, deformity and beauty, magnanimity and meanness, built into the same life, and the higher the peaks of attainment on one side, the lower the unreclaimed wastes on the other.

“But human nature, however defective, is the best we have to confront eternity with; and in our journey through life we are compelled to learn many lessons that we never proposed to ourselves, and so arrive at the end better educated than could have been expected.

“Repeated disappointment tells a man by-and-by that he is in the wrong place. All work, no pay, is a hint to work elsewhere—a hint which the most obtuse comes finally to apprehend. Men must dig in wrong places to learn where the gold is not, and so little by little narrow effort into the right direction. Every man must have a certain amount of imprisonment to teach him limitation and fit him for freedom, and most persons must waste a good deal of life before they learn how to live. A scientific writer describes walking as ‘perpetual falling arrested and turned into progress’; and life might be defined a series of failures resulting in success.”—Christian Union.

BE CHEERFUL AND COURAGEOUS.

Here are some most wholesome words for discouraged, downcast, gloomy souls. Read them, lay them to heart, and, in the name and strength of God, cheer up and meet life's battle manfully.

“It is impossible to resist the infection of cheerfulness. Let a bright face beam on the darkness of defeat, shine on the abode of poverty, illumine the chamber of sickness, and how everything changes under its benign influence. Victory becomes possible, competence promises a golden future, health is wooed back again. In the lives of all of us there are hours of anxiety, disappointment, pain, and vexation; seasons of trial that are to be met only with stubborn patience. Greatness of soul is tested by the serenity with which these inevitable ills are borne and finally overcome. The little mind will fret and chafe and fume over little things, even as the petty stream over its narrow, pebbly bed, while the deep, strong, mighty river moves swiftly and silently over the boulders that lie at its bottom. The desponding eye seldom sees clearly through an intricate path; the doubting heart cannot rely even on that which is trustworthy. In the lives of all whom the world calls great we find that difficulties, hardships, dangers, antagonisms, abounded, and not till all these were overpast and overcome were they crowned with the bay wreath. Fretting because the floor is of punchcons will not cover it with a carpet, but a jolly soul will make one forget both punchcons and carpet. Wishes that calico were silk, and homespun, broadcloth, will not transform those cheap fabrics into the costlier, but calicoes and homespun may cover happier hearts than dwell in palaces, and be worn with a grace that princes could envy. But when one's heart sinks and sinks, when the sky is leaden and the earth is bare, when no bird sings on the leafless bough, and not even a cricket chirps at the fireside, how shall one then keep heart and courage up? If nothing can be done to lighten the lowering aspect, look away from it to fortunes darker than your own, or to a brighter world where all the inequalities of life are made even, and bear the present with mute, stubborn patience. Is this hard to do? It is harder not to do so. The bird that beats against the iron bars of its cage suffers more than the patient captive. If we cannot break the fetters that bind us, we can sing amid the chains, and with spirits fearless and hearts strong to endure, defy the ‘stings and arrows of outrageous fortune.’”

HOW AND WHAT TO CONFESS.

How common it is to hear some people always confessing their sins in social meeting. But it has no effect on any one; it amounts to nothing. What is the matter? They don't confess right. Mr. Beecher says some good things on this subject. Hear him:—

“If instead of generic, and too often unfelt convictions of sin, if instead of talking of sinfulness you would satisfy your own self more of the special sins to which you are addicted; if you would ascertain the direction in which you are sinning, in the first place, it would give you a clearer view of the truth; in the second place, it would better indicate to you what you should do every day; in the third place, it would humble you more in your own estimation; in the fourth place, it would make you feel more effectively the divine patience and grace; and in the fifth place, it would make you a great deal more silent about your sins than you are generally.

“It is very hard for a man to confess his particular sins; but it is very easy for him to confess sinfulness in general. That comes glib from the tongue. I hear persons say, ‘I feel as though I were a great sinner before God.’ Well, do you feel as though you were a great sinner before men? Do you think you have ever gone through the various points of your character, and taken them one by one, and examined them, so that you had as distinct an idea of the directions in which you were breaking out into actual transgression, from day to day, as you have of the infirmities of your body? If you had a crippled ankle, and at the same time a rheumatic shoulder, if your right eye were defective, and if you could not hear with your left ear, and anybody asked you what the matter was, you could put your finger on every finger point of ailment, and say, ‘There is where my body is crippled.’”

D. M. CANRIGHT.