TO THE FRONT by Edison J. Driver

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jan 1, 1902

"TO THE FRONT."

By Edison J. Driver

In the history of our war for Cuba there is one name that stands out with peculiar luster—not for the greatness of the man or the greatness of the deed, but for the determination, and singleness of thought, that lay behind his action.

Shot through the lower ribs in a skirmish, trooper Rowland was ordered by the leader of the Rough Riders to the dressing station in the rear. There the doctor said he would have to go to the hospital, as he was badly hurt, and told him to sit down a short time till he could be taken there. Rowland sat still a few moments, then remarked restlessly, “I don’t seem to be doing much good here,” and picking up his rifle was soon found by Roosevelt at the front.

“Thought I ordered you to the rear,” he said.

“You did, sir,” replied Rowland, “but there didn’t seem to be much doing back there.”

He was sent to the hospital with the rest of the wounded, but in two days was again in camp, having marched six miles over rough country, carrying gun, canteen, and cartridge-belt.

“I thought you were at Siboney,” said the general.

“I was,” answered the soldier, sheepishly, “but I didn’t seem to be doing any good there.” And so, tho wounded, he went into the battle of San Juan. How many men would have done it?

But to Rowland it was not a case of inclination—at least not of the ordinary kind, for that would have kept him at rest at Siboney. No; it is the case of a man who had been trained to regard duty as more important than inclination. It took him to the front. It will take any man to the front in any walk of life.

Let me explain. Two young men of about equal ability come into the church. Number One gives duty first place, while Number Two thinks inclination should have a hearing. One soon has a class in Sabbath-school, and gains an experience that Two loses because he hasn’t time to prepare the lesson, and besides lacks inclination to face the scare of a first class. One takes secretorship; declined by Two because he doesn’t like the work or the reading of the minutes. One speaks in testimony meeting, so encouraging both himself and others; Two keeps his seat or remains away, encouraging others to do the same. Well, so far who is ahead?—Assuredly Number One. He has experience, confidence, and a training that enables him to take other positions, not only in church but outside as well. He also has the habit of going to the front, and of staying there. Number Two has strengthened his habit of yielding to inclination, is consequently more idle, more selfish, and finds it very difficult to express himself in public. If some one doesn’t show him just where he stands, he will soon leave the church, and then—

But you see the point. The path of duty leads up, inclination down.

You have often heard the anecdote of the man who was asked how he had accomplished so much in his life. “My father taught me,” he said, “when I had anything to do, to go and do it.” That training kept him at the front.

But with many men that evil brotherhood,—inclination

, fear, selfishness, and idleness,—rules, and that is the cause of the world’s distress and failure. Sometimes for the hour they will it aside, stand out in the heroism of simple manhood, and do great things. Then they say, It was a triumph of enthusiasm beyond human control. But really, in the inspiration or excitement of the occasion, inclination and fear had been laid aside, and will was on the side of duty. These are the magic words—will and duty, for they keep men at the front.

Years ago there was a rich man who lived in idleness and selfishness till he became tired of life, and one night he started for the river to drown himself. On the way he met a little girl crying—a poor, famished, barefooted little creature. His heart was touched. He asked what was the matter, and she told him a tale of suffering, want, sickness, and starvation. She took him to her mother, away up in a garret, and there he found that the child’s words were true. His heart was touched, and he went to get aid. He provided everything they needed, and then went on toward the river. But suddenly he stopped. His heart was full of joy and peace. Drown himself?—No, indeed! He had laid aside inclination for a moment, had been at the front, and in that blessed place he had found happiness.

“My friend,” said the professor to a discouraged student, “put your will on the right side. If there’s a thing you ought to do, go straight through it from beginning to end, regardless of like or dislike—and do it now! In a month the result will astonish you.”

“Why did you refuse the young man?” I asked an employer the other day; “he’s bright and strong.”

“That may be,” said the keen business man, “but he’s not honest with himself. It’s the old story, inclination before duty; and in my business I couldn’t depend on him. The world is full of them. What I want is the boy with whom ‘ought to’ is law. If he says, ‘I ought to go to church,’ he goes. If he thinks he ought not to eat ice cream, do you think he eats it? And if he ought not to spend his money for some trifle, do you suppose he argues himself into doing it?—No; and I’d take a dozen boys like that right now, for they’re scarce.”

Yes, friend; there is plenty of room at the front! Just gird up your loins, buckle on the weapons of your warfare, and come along.

Fresno, Cal.

EDISON J. DRIVER.