IS LIFE WORTH LIVING? by William Penniman

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Nov 19, 1894

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 20, No. 54.

IS LIFE WORTH LIVING?

By William Penniman

BY WM. PENNIMAN.

EMPHATICALLY no, if one lives with no good object in view, or if, like the Epicureans, one can only say, "Let us eat and drink; for to-morrow we die." In short, if life is for a selfish purpose, it is not worth living. But if we eat to live, and do not live to eat; if we live to glorify God, and not to glorify self; if we live to make the world and ourselves better—then the world will be better for our having lived in it, and we shall thus gain eternal life, and enjoy God's presence forever.

The following is a record of a man, given by himself, and who died at the age of 73. At the age of 18 he began keeping a record, which he continued for 52 years. This record showed that he had smoked 628,715 cigars, of which he had received 43,692 as presents, while for the remaining 585,021 he had paid about $10,433; in 52 years, according to his books, he had drunk 28,786 glasses of beer and 36,085 glasses of spirits, for all of which he spent $5,350; and he closes up his diary with the following words: "I have tried all things, I have seen many, I have accomplished nothing." It can be truthfully said of such a life that it is not worth living.

Rev. T. Dixon, in the Farm and Fireside, in speaking of a distinguished citizen of Boston, who recently read a paper before a philosophic club on the subject "Is Life Worth Living?" says:—

He was a man who possessed millions of dollars. He lived in a luxurious palace on a magnificent avenue. He was a man of culture, of thorough education. He was a writer of brilliant power, and in his essay he sought with determination and with some degree of logical power from his point of view, to show that human life was not worth living.

While he was reading this essay before this assemblage of club men and philosophic students, a simple pioneer teacher was addressing a great assembly in Tremont Temple on the subject of "Western Missions." These two men had been schoolmates in boyhood. They were both men of culture. The one had given his life to making money—and made it. The other had given his life to men in sacrifice. He was a poor man—this missionary. The great crowd listened with breathless attention to his account of his work in the Western world. They hung thrilled upon every period. He was a man of masterful physique, of magnetic face, behind which beat a great, loving heart. He told of the wonders God had wrought among the people in the far West. His face flushed with power divine as he told of the needs of the great commonwealths that were growing on the border land of the nation. He swept the souls of all who heard him with divinest enthusiasm, that dominated and lifted them up with the highest faith in God. He refused invitations to attend dinners in his honor, and when he closed his address, was seen hurrying across Boston Common on his way to catch a train to return to his duties in the West. To him life was full of meaning; he was eager to return to the fight. Life was a glorious opportunity in which to bless his fellow-men, and he was as impatient as a child to return to the task God had given him. Is life worth living? What life?

Many instances similar to the preceding might be given. How much need there is now of more of this self-sacrificing missionary spirit, and more especially when there are so many destitute fields, so many millions to be warned, so many waiting to hear the last message of mercy now going to the world!