What Religion Does for a Man.
A MAN without religion is like a man living in a planet unillumined by the sun. He has trees, fruit, grass and flowers, streams and hills around them, but they are only undulations of darkness; he has mountains, but they are gaunt and gloomy crags; he has streams, but they are chill with the touch of darkness and death; he has fruit, but they have no sweetness for lack of ripening sun; he has flowers, cold, colorless, and dying; he has trials, but they are only painful ascents to be climbed with uneasy and unhoping patience; he has work, but it is cheerless, empty, and really aimless, for the chill stream of death cuts off all; he has prosperity, but it is hollow and unpalatable; he has friendships, but they are only for three-score years and ten. But religion lets a light upon all these. The sun has risen upon the mountains, and a crown of glory is on their crests; the light falls on their rivers, and they sparkle back radiance, and murmur along their banks with joy; the fruits turn blushing cheeks toward the sun, and every flower is robed in beauty; the sun rises upon life. Every trial is lightened with the light of God's love; every labor sparkles under the beams of his command and his providence; all success is sweet because it is his gift; all friendship in him is doubly dear because clad in the vesture of immortality. Yes, who will not say, indeed, that he who chooses religion has chosen the thing most needed, and the best, because he has chosen that which gives strength, beauty and true glory to all the rest? Is not labor dignified by the thought, to this God calls me? Is not sorrow sanctified by it? for it says, "In this God is with me." Is not success elevated by it? for we say, "He has prospered our handiwork." Is not friendship intensified by it? for we say, "Them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with him."