The Elements of Character by Mary G. Chandler

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Every possession, whether moral, intellectual, or physical, is the
legitimate reward of labor wisely and earnestly applied; and for these
rewards the virtuous are content to labor without repining, and to them,
not only the rewards, but the labor itself, is blessed. The vicious,
on the contrary, desire the rewards, but hate the labor by which they
should be gained. They, therefore, accordingly as they belong to
different classes of society, simulate virtues which they do not
possess, pretend to acquirements they have been too idle to gain, or
strive after wealth by any means, rather than patient industry and
honest effort.

It is not the vicious alone who fail to perceive that labor is a
blessing from which a wise man can never fly. The curse applied to Adam,
"In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread," has led many to suppose
that originally the wants of the human race were supplied without any
exertion of its own,--that in the garden of Eden there was enjoyment
without effort, possession without labor. Even in the pulpit, labor is
sometimes spoken of as a curse pertaining only to life in this world,
from which we shall be delivered in the life to come. Nothing can be
farther from the truth. Employment is the life of every soul, from
the Most High down to the least of his children. They only who are
spiritually dead, or sleeping, ask for idleness. It is man fallen who
looks on labor as a curse, not man walking with God in the garden of
Eden; and to man, when he has fallen, labor is indeed a curse, for his
soul is so perverted that he knows not the true nature and qualities of
a blessing.

Man, resting in thought or feeling, is at best a useless abstraction; he
becomes truly a man only when his thoughts and feelings come forth into
life, and impress themselves on outward things. If he fail to do this,
the rust of idleness eats into all his powers, till he becomes a useless
cumberer of the ground; the world loses, and heaven gains nothing when
this mortal puts on immortality. Such a being is dead while he lives--a
moral paralytic. His capacities are as seed cast upon a rock where there
is no earth.

God works incessantly. His eye knows no closing, his hand no weariness.
The universe was not only built by his power, but is sustained every
moment by his inflowing life. If he were to turn from it for a single
instant, all things would return to chaos. Man, created in the image and
likeness of God, resembles him most nearly when the life influent from
God which fills his soul, flows forth freely as it is given, quickening
with its powers all that comes within the influence of his sphere.

There is an old proverb that tells us, "Idleness is the devil's pillow";
and well may it be so esteemed, for no head ever rested long upon it,
but the lips of the evil spirit were at its ear, breathing falsehood and
temptation. The industrious man is seldom found guilty of a crime; for
he has no time to listen to the enticings of the wicked one, and he is
content with the enjoyments honest effort affords. It is the vicious
idler, vexed to see the fortunes of his industrious neighbor growing
while he is lounging and murmuring, who robs and murders that he may get
unlawful gain. It is the merry, thoughtless idler who, to relieve the
nothingness of his days, seeks the excitement of the wine-cup and the
gaming-table. It is the sensual idler, whose licentious ear is open to
the voice of the tempter as often as his track crosses the pathway of
youth and innocence.

Not only by reason of the external, palpable rewards which labor brings
is it to be considered a blessing; but every hour of patient labor,
whether with the hands, or in study, or thought, brings with it its own
priceless reward, in its direct effects upon the Character. By it the
faculties are developed, the powers strengthened, and the whole being
brought into a state of order; provided we do all things for the glory
of God. "But," exclaims the impatient heart, wearied with the cares of
daily life, "how can all this labor for the preservation and comfort of
the merely mortal body, this study of things which belong merely to the
material world, subserve in any way the glory of God?" It is by these
very toils, worthless and transitory as they may seem, that the
Character is built up for eternity; and so to build up Character is the
whole end for which the things of time were created. No matter how small
the duty intrusted to our performance, by performing it to the best
of our abilities we are fitting ourselves to be rulers over many
things,--to hear the blessed proclamation, "Well done, good and faithful
servant; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."

We are prone, at times, to feel as though we were not placed in the
right niche; and that, if we were differently situated, and occupied
with employments more worthy our capacities, we should work with
pleasure and assiduity; but our present duties are so much beneath us,
it seems degrading to spend our time and thoughts upon them. Here is
a radical error of judgment, for it is not a high or low duty that
degrades or elevates man, but the performing any duty well or ill. It
is as true as it is trite, that the honor or shame lies in the mode of
performance, not in the quality of the duty. We all, perhaps, know and
say, and yet need to be reminded, that a bad president stands lower in
the scale of being than a good town officer; a wicked statesman, let
him occupy what social position he may, fills a lower place than a
conscientious slave who faithfully fulfils the duties of his station.

The first Church, represented by Adam, fell because it ceased to look to
the Lord as the source of all life and light, and looked only to itself
for all things. It thus lost all conception of the legitimate aim of
life. Seeking only the enjoyment of the present moment, labor seemed a
dire calamity; for the eternal end of labor, that is, the development
of the powers of the soul, so as best to fit it for the performance of
heavenly uses, passed out of the knowledge of man, and he learned to
look forward to heaven as a place of idle enjoyment; toiling sorrowfully
through this world, in the sweat of his face, for bread that, when
attained, gave him no true life. To eat bread in the sweat of the face
signifies by correspondences, to receive and appropriate as good only
that which self may call self-produced and self-owned; and to turn away
with aversion from that which is heavenly. This is precisely what we all
do when we shrink from, or despise, any labor which duty demands at our
hands. The Lord places us in that position in life which is best adapted
to overcome the evil dispositions of our nature, and to cultivate our
souls for heaven. Perhaps we have capacities that would enable us
to perform duties that would be considered by the world of a higher
character; but perhaps, on the other hand, we have vices that the Lord
is striving to overcome by placing us in this very position which so
frets and disgusts us. If we will but remember that the mercy and love
of the Lord strive to bless us by fitting us for heaven, and not by
making us eminent in the eyes of men, we shall probably find it much
easier to comprehend why we are placed as we are in this world. When we
torment ourselves by thinking of the inappropriateness of our position
in this world, we are always viewing our position with regard to this
world only, and therefore all things are dark to us. When we look humbly
to the Lord, and seek to find out the eternal ends of his providence in
the circumstances of our lives, gradually the scales pass from our
eyes, and at last we go in peace, seeing.

Beside the education of our powers and faculties, employment is a
blessing in helping us to bear the severest trials of this life. When
bereavement or disappointment overwhelms the soul with anguish, so that
this world seems only the dark habitation of despair; when we cannot see
the bow of promise in the black cloud that darkens our horizon; when we
feel that we are without God in the world,--and there are few if any
human beings who have not found themselves at some time in such a
state,--then, as we hope by the grace of God ever to escape from this
despair, we should fly idleness as we would fly the dagger or the
poisoned cup; and though grief be tugging at the heart-strings, though
our eyes are blinded with tears, we should set ourselves diligently
about doing something that may help to make others happy, and let no
duty go unperformed; and it will not be long ere the dimmed eyes shall
begin to see the glow of the sunshine above, and the earth radiant with
beauty below; while, so far from being deserted of God, we shall feel
that sorrow has brought us more distinctly than ever before into his
presence.

"The path of sorrow, and that path alone,
Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown."

What are the employments of heaven we cannot know with any
particularity. Swedenborg tells us that the angels are constantly
performing uses; but what these uses are we are not distinctly told. We
know that they correspond in some way to the employments of earth; but
really to understand them probably transcends our capacities while we
remain in the flesh. The conscientious performance of the material and
finite uses of this life is the only means by which we can prepare
ourselves for the spiritual and eternal uses pertaining to the heavenly
kingdom; uses which probably serve to comfort, nourish, and strengthen
the soul in eternity, as on earth the corresponding uses serve the wants
of the body.

In the spiritual world the spiritual body is fed, clothed, and sheltered
in much the same way, to appearance, as is the material body in the
natural world; but all the surroundings of the spirit correspond to the
state of each individual being, and are the direct gift of the Lord. All
the arts and trades of this life do not exist in the other, but as these
arts and trades, as well as everything else in this world, exist only
through their correspondence with something in the other world, it
follows that all the occupations of this life have not similar, but
corresponding, occupations in the other. The end of life in this world
is to fit the soul for entering upon the heavenly life, and the end
of life in heaven is perpetual advancement in spiritual graces and
perfections; for no angel, even in the highest heavens, has reached
a degree of perfection so high that he can go no further. The end of
heavenly life thus being infinite, the effort and employment of that
life must be ceaseless. In speaking of ceaseless effort, it must not be
understood that this resembles at all the wearying labor of a slave, or
that there is anything oppressive or forced about its performance; for
this could only be anticipated with dread. Heavenly employment must be
full of life and joy, bearing us upward like the wings of a skylark, as
he bathes in the sunlight of the upper ether, and carols forth his
joy. There will undoubtedly be a variety, too, in heavenly employment,
corresponding with our varying states, and making tedium impossible.
This may be illustrated by imagining what would be a perfect mode of
spending a day in this world. We wake in the morning refreshed by
repose, and as we look forth at the sun our spirits rejoice in the
beauty of the wakening day, and rise toward the heavenly throne in
prayer and praise. We set about the performance of our daily duties, and
Christian charity toward those for whose happiness or benefit, whether
physical or intellectual, we exert our powers, makes us faithful in
whatever we do, that it may be done to the best of our ability; and our
effort is lightened by the consciousness of duty done from pure and
upright motives. If we go forth for refreshment, communion with nature
and the God of nature fills our souls with peace, while the fresh air
gives new life to the frame. When the duties of the day are over, and
the family circle collects around the evening lamp, reading or
conversation awakes the powers of the heart and the intellect, and draws
more closely the bonds of the domestic affections. We retire for the
night, and ere composing ourselves to sleep, we collect our thoughts,
reflect upon the events of the day, examining what we have done well or
ill, and prepare by wise resolutions for future effort. We slumber, and
the repose of all our powers renews our strength for the coming morrow.
Through the whole of this twenty-four hours, employment has been
constant. There has been labor of the hands, labor of the head,
conversation, thought, prayer, sleep. Every part of the being has been
called into exercise; there has been no weariness from labor, and no
idleness; but every moment of this whole day has added its quota towards
promoting the growth of the whole being; and this is a heavenly day. The
more perfectly we can make the occupations of our days thus combine for
the growth of our being, the better we are preparing ourselves for the
days of heaven.

As the progress of the heavenly life will be infinite, the wants of our
spiritual natures must likewise be infinite. The heavenly life must be
a life of charity,--a life in which every soul will strive to aid every
other to the utmost; and the charities of heaven must strengthen and
comfort the soul in a manner corresponding to the aid material charities
effect in this world. Let it constantly be borne in mind, that charities
are duties well performed, of whatever kind they may be,--as well
the faithful fulfilment of an avocation as the aiding of a suffering
fellow-being. Charity is but another name for duty; or rather duty
becomes charity when we perform it from genuine love to the Lord and
to the neighbor; and whoever leads a life of charity in this world is
fitting himself to perform the higher charities that will be required of
him in heaven.

The true end and highest reward of labor is spiritual growth; and such
growth brings with it the most exalted happiness we are capable of
attaining. This happiness is the kingdom of heaven within us; and it is
the certain and unfailing reward, or rather consequence, of a life of
true charity. It is not difficult, by intellectual thought, to perceive
the truth of this doctrine; but this is not enough. We must elevate our
hearts into a wisdom that shall make us not only perceive, but feel and
love this truth. Until we can do this, we do not truly believe, though
we may think we do. If we fret and murmur; if we are impatient and
unfaithful; if, when we plainly see that our duty lies in one path, we
yet long to follow another; if we know that we cannot leave our present
position without dereliction from right, and yet hate or despise the
place in which we are; if we repine because God does not give us the
earthly rewards we fancy we deserve, though we well know he promises
only heavenly ones; if we do habitually any or all of these things, we
may know that our faith is of the lip, and not of the heart,--that
the life of charity is not yet begun within us. Such repinings, such
cravings as these do not belong nor lead to the heavenly kingdom.

He who thinks wisely can never live a life of idleness, and where there
is excessive indolence of the body there is never healthy action of the
mind. A life of use is a life of holiness; and a life of idleness is a
life of sin. He who performs no social use, who makes no human being
happier or better, is leading a life of utter selfishness; is walking in
a way that ends in spiritual death. In the parable of the sheep and the
goats, the King condemns those on the left hand, not because they have
done that which was wrong, but because they have omitted doing that
which was right.

No human being in possession of his mental faculties is so incompetent
that he can do nothing for the benefit of those around him. One
prostrate on a bed of sickness might seem, at first glance, incapable
of performing any use; and yet, not unfrequently, what high and holy
lessons of patient faith, of unwavering piety, are taught by such a
being,--lessons that can never die out from the memory of those who
minister at the couch of suffering. When the body lies powerless, and
the hand has lost its cunning, when even the tongue is palsied in death,
how often has the eye, still faithful to the heavenly Master, by a
glance of holy peace performed the last act of charity to the bereaved
ones whom it looks upon with the eye of flesh for the last time. So long
as life remains to us our duties are unfinished: God yet desires our
service on earth, and while he desires let us not doubt our capacity
to serve. Even for one in the solitude of a prison-cell, when acts of
charity become impossible, the duty of labor is not taken away. One may
still work for the Father in Heaven, though sitting in darkness, and
with manacled limbs. To possess the soul in patience, to be meek,
forgiving, and pious, are duties amply sufficient to tax the powers of
the strongest. There is no room for idleness even here.

To work is not only a duty, but a necessity of our nature, and when we
fancy ourselves idle, we are in fact working for one whose wages is
death. The question is never, Shall we work? but, For whom shall we
work? Whom shall we choose for our master? and our happiness here and
hereafter must depend on the answer we give to this question. We may
not deliberately put and deliberately reply to this question in stated
words; but our whole lives answer it in one long-continued period.
Those who labor steadfastly, with no end in view but the acquisition of
worldly, perishable advantages, answer it fearfully; but theirs is not
a more desperate reply than comes from the idler and the slothful.
Wherever there is activity and force there is hope; for though now
flowing in a wrong direction, the stream may yet be diverted into
channels that shall lead to eternal life. Where there is no activity,
where all the faculties of the soul are sunk in the lethargy of
indifference, as well may one hope to find living fountains gushing
forth into fertilizing streams amid the sands of the African desert. The
man of science tells us that living springs exist beneath these sands,
and that artesian wells might bring them to the surface; and so in the
inmost nature of man, however degraded he may be, Swedenborg tells
us there is a shrine that cannot be defiled, through which heavenly
influences may come down into his life, and yet save him, if he will
receive them ere he passes from this world; but when sloth has become
habitual and confirmed, there is almost as little room for hope that
this will ever take place as that artesian tubes will ever make the
Saharan desert a region of fertility.

The kingdom of evil is readily attained. We have but to follow the
allurements of the passions, and we shall surely find it; we have but to
fold our hands, and it will come to us. With the kingdom of eternal life
it is not so. That is a prize not easily won. Faithful, untiring effort,
looking ever toward eternal ends; a constant scrutiny of motives, that
they may be pure and true; an earnest, heartfelt, determined devotion
to the heavenly Master, to whose service we have bound ourselves by
deliberate choice, can alone make sure for us what we seek. For a long
time this may require labor almost painful, but if we persevere, our
affections will gradually become at one with our faith, the heavenly
life will become habitual, so as to be almost instinctive; and when the
celestial kingdom is thus established within us, no place will be left
for weariness, or doubt, or pain, or fear. CONVERSATION.

"He who sedulously attends, pointedly asks, calmly speaks, coolly
answers, and ceases when he has no more to say, is in possession of some
of the best requisites of man."--LAVATER.

"The common fluency of speech, in many men, and most women, is owing to
a scarcity of matter and a scarcity of words; for whoever is master of
a language, and has a mind full of ideas, will be apt, in speaking, to
hesitate upon the choice of both; whereas, common speakers have only
one set of ideas, and one set of words to clothe them in; and these are
always ready at the mouth; so people can come faster out of a church
when it is almost empty, than when a crowd is at the door."--SWIFT.

* * * * *

Of all the physical powers possessed by man, there is none so noble as
that of speech; none that distinguishes him so entirely from the brute;
yet how few there are who seem in any adequate degree to comprehend its
power and value, or who ever pause to reflect upon the sacrilegious
abuse to which it is often degraded.

Language is Thought and Affection in form, as works are Thought and
Affection in life. By language we receive the word of Divine Revelation,
and by language we approach the Divine Author of all things in prayer.
By language we are made happy in social life, through interchange of
thought and feeling with our fellow-beings. By language, man is made
lord of the terrestrial world. By language, the wisdom of past ages
becomes an inheritance for the whole earth, instead of perishing with
each possessor; and thus man advances from age to age, through the
experience of the past, instead of being obliged to work out all the
wisdom he gains by his own individual effort.

This is the bright and beautiful side of language; but on the other hand
is a dark and hideous side, when language becomes the foul and poisonous
medium through which the folly, the vice, and all the moral deformities
of humanity, are spread abroad through the world, and handed down
through the ages. The same medium that serves as a vehicle for heavenly
truth is the tool of the scoffing infidel; it is formed into prayer by
the saint, and into blasphemy by the sinner. Alternately, it serves the
purest and holiest uses, or the vilest and most atrocious abuses; now
formed to the sweet breathings of heavenly charity, and anon to the
harsh utterances of malignant hate.

These distinctions are wide and clear, and easily perceived by the most
obtuse or indifferent observer; but these distinctly marked varieties
pass into milder shades as they are exhibited in common Conversation,
and then a nicer observation is needful to detect the varieties of
hue that color language when used in the every-day forms of society.

The habitual use we make of language is the result of our own
characters, and it reacts upon them. It likewise acts upon those who are
about us with an unceasing power, repelling or attracting all whom we
approach. Every human being exerts a perpetual influence on every other
human being, with an activity as universal as that of gravity in the
material world; and language is one of the most efficient means of this
influence. Viewed in the light of these truths, common Conversation
becomes an object of serious consideration; and the mode of sustaining
it worthy of the deepest thought and of the most careful watchfulness.

Between the malignity of a fiend and the charity of an angel there is
a long interval of inclined plane, and those who walk there may seem a
company so mixed that they cannot be separated into two distinct bands;
but every individual of the throng is looking toward one or the
other extremity, and either ascending or descending in his course.
Conversation is the outbirth of our thoughts and affections, and it
shows their quality in the most direct manner possible. Actions are said
to speak louder than words, and to the appreciation of our fellow-beings
our lives are much truer and fuller expositions of our internal
natures than our Conversation; but before God, always, and before our
own consciences if we really look at ourselves, the insincere words that
deceive our fellow-beings stand unmasked,--the deformed exponents of the
falsehood of the soul. We can therefore understand the character of our
neighbor better by his actions than by his words; but to understand our
neighbor is of little importance compared with understanding ourselves;
and is chiefly useful because a comparison of individuals aids us in
comprehending our own natures. We can understand ourselves by our own
words if we will take the trouble to consider them dispassionately, and
analyze the thoughts and affections whence they spring.

So little honesty is believed to exist in ordinary Conversation, that
the saying of a witty courtier, that "language is the instrument whereby
man conceals his thoughts," has almost passed into a proverb. The
question, in which direction is the man walking who wraps duplicity
about himself as his constant garment, needs no answer; for all must
know that the Divine Being, whose form is truth, hateth a lie.

The first element in Conversation should be sincerity. Not the blunt
and harsh sincerity sometimes met with, which is made the cloak of
self-esteem and bitterness; for that is an evil of the same nature as
the malice and hatred that show themselves in active, outward injury
towards the neighbor. When excited by pride or anger, the tongue needs a
bridle no less than the hand; and when the heart can utter itself truly
only in the forms of such passions, silence is its only safeguard. In
speaking of the follies or vices of others, sincerity should be tempered
by a Christian charity, which, while it does not gloss over vice, does
not dwell upon it needlessly, nor take a malicious pleasure in spreading
it abroad, nor indulge self-complacency by dilating upon it, to give the
idea that one is superior to such things.

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