The Excellence of Labor
By K. B. W.
(An Echo of the Mutual Edification Club) THE subject of labor and its excellencies is one that has furnished material for author, poet, musician, artist, and sculptor for ages, for we may trace its existence back to the creation of our world. It is quite natural for us to associate labor only with sin and weariness, to think of it as a curse instead of a blessing; but it would be of interest, to ourselves at least, to prove by actual experience, if we have not already done so, that labor is not without its excellencies; that it is a blessing to mankind rather than a curse—yes, one of the greatest blessings to which mankind is heir, a means to an end, a panacea from sorrow, "the true alchemist which beats out by patient transmutation the baser metals into gold." According to the Standard Dictionary, labor is physical or mental effort, particularly for some desired or useful end. And we find that away back in the Garden of Eden man was not left in idleness—he was given work to do; he was to dress and care for his Eden home. That work was to be to him a pleasure, a delight, teaching him of God. By his contact with nature, he would learn precious lessons of life and love, and of his Creator's wisdom and goodness; he would better understand His tender care and wonderful power. But man fell and the earth was cursed—it would not henceforth yield of its fulness to man. In the sweat of his face he was to eat his bread. He must toil for his daily food. But even this curse may be made a blessing. The loving Father saw that His children would not be happy in a life of idleness. They must have work to do to help them to drown, in a measure, their sorrow, to forget their trouble. And so He wisely planned that the highest joys, the truest happiness, should be found in service, in labor for others. Thus self would be forgotten and God exalted. Our bountiful Father, in His great system of law and order, has made ample provision for all His creatures, but He has also given to every man his work. As Holland says: "God gives every bird its food, but He does not throw it into its nest. He does not unearth the good that the earth contains, but He puts it in our way, and gives us the means of getting it out for ourselves." All nature is a workshop. One author says: "Work is the key that has unlocked all the treasures throughout the centuries. Work is the divine test of greatness. It is a quaint old law of the New Testament that the chiefest must serve most. We honor the men that serve most. The one thing that is always sure to be appreciated is work." Labor is life; 'tis the still water faileth;
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth;
Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. Labor is glory; 'tis the flying cloud lightens;
Only the waving wing changes and brightens;
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens;
Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune. What a picture idleness presents before us—desolation pervades everything. The idle man is the most miserable of creatures, weak, selfish, morose, good-for-nothing; as Brooks expresses it, "An idle person is the devil's tennis-ball, tossed by him at his pleasure." But come with me to the home of industry. Up in the morning early, catching the first sweet notes of the song-birds, as bright and happy as they, the glow of health in his face, the light of happiness in his eye, the blood coursing through his veins, the vigor of life in his footsteps—his whole being testifying of the power within to accomplish a desired end. It is his to learn from nature lessons of industry, from the bird, the bee, the ant—all created things testifying of the beautiful plan of the gospel of labor. With Christ the most menial tasks become a blessing, for we are co-laborers with Him. Jesus said, "My Father worketh hitherto, and I work." We as Christians are laboring not for a generation, not for a century, but for eternity, laboring for the joy to be found in the labor, and for the glorious reward of souls saved through our labors. Then let us work "while it is yet day: the night cometh, when no man can work." As one author has said, "He only is truly wise who lays himself out to work till life's latest hour, and that is the man that will live the longest, and live to the most purpose." From the particle of dust at our feet to man, the last stroke of God's handiwork, all bear the impress of the law of labor. The earth is one vast laboratory where decomposition and re-formation are constantly going on. The blast of Nature's furnace never ceases, and its fires never burn low. The lichen of the rock and the oak of the forest each works out the problem of its own existence. The earth, the air, and the water teem with busy life. The world is animated with the same spirit. Onward unceasingly, unwearied, age after age, it pursues its course, itself, with all it contains, a perpetual lesson of industry to man. The joyous song of labor sounds out from the million-voiced earth, and the rolling spheres join the universal chorus. Labor is alone noble, true, uplifting, a joy, a blessing, "the grand conqueror, enriching and building up nations more surely than the proudest battles," and, as Johnson says, "statues in every public place should record its wonders, oratorios should be composed in its honor, its insignia—the plow, the spade, and the loom—should decorate State carriages, and ornament public halls; while its successful votaries should wear the honored decoration of 'the Order of Industry.'" Work—and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow;
Work—thou shalt ride over Care's coming billow;
Lie not down 'neath Wo's weeping willow,
Work with a stout heart and a resolute will. Work for some good, be it ever so slowly!
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly!
Labor! All labor is noble and holy.
Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God.