well yesterday," said the poet; "let to-morrow do its worst." To
this sentiment the statesman added: "I have done what I could for my
fellows, and my memories thereof are more precious than gold and
pearls." Thus all they who have loved wisdom and goodness will find
their treasures safe in memory's care. Perhaps some precious things do
perish out of life. The melody trembling on the chords after the song
is sung sinks away into silence. The light lingering in the clouds
after the day is done at last dies out in darkness. But as the soul is
consciously immortal through personality, it has an unconscious
immortality through its tool or teaching, through its example or
influence. Time avails not for destroying. God and the soul never
forget.

Wisdom comes to all young hearts who as yet have no past, before whose
feet lies the stream of life, waiting to bear them into the future,
and bids them reflect that maturity, full of successes, is only the
place where the tides of youth have emptied their rich treasures. He
whose yesterday is full of industry and ambition, full of books and
conversation and culture, will find his to-morrow full of worth,
happiness and friendship. But he who gives his memory no treasure to
be garnered, will find his hopes to be only the mirage in the desert,
where burning sands take on the aspect of lake and river. Wisdom comes
also to those who in their maturity realize that the morrow is veiled
in uncertainty, and their tomb is not far distant. It bids them
reflect that their yesterdays are safe, that nothing is forgotten;
that no worthy deed has fallen out of life; that yesterday is a refuge
from conflict, anxiety and fear.

To patriot and parent, to reformer and teacher, comes the inspiring
thought that God garners in His memory every helpful act. No good
influence is lost out of life. Are David and Dante dead? Are not
Tennyson and Milton a thousandfold more alive to-day than when they
walked this earth? Death does but multiply the single voice and
strengthen it. God causes each life to fulfill the legend of the
Grecian traveler, who, bearing homeward a sack of corn, sorrowed
because some had been lost out through a tiny hole; but, years
afterward, fleeing before his enemies along that way, he found that
the seed had sprung up and multiplied into harvests for his hunger.
Thus yesterday feeds in each pilgrim heart the faith that goodness
shall triumph. For memory that is little in man is large i