re is Channing, with his cultured
scholarship, his refined manners, his gentle goodness. So heavy were
the drafts study made upon his strength that at length came a day when
the mere delivery of his sermons and orations left him physically
exhausted. But he went smilingly and forever from the pulpit, and gave
up also the use of his pen. In that hour, when sorrow and gloom rested
heavily upon those who loved him, the vision shone clearly for
Channing. He determined to turn his whole life into a sermon and poem.
With pathetic eloquence he said, "It is, indeed, forbidden me to write
or speak, but not to aspire and be. To live content with small means;
to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than
fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to do
all cheerfully, bear all bravely; to listen to stars and birds, to
babes and sages, with open heart; to study hard, think quietly, act
frankly, talk gently, await occasions, hurry never--in a word, to let
the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the
common--this is to be my symphony."

Into our nation also has come the disturbing vision. Ours is called an
age of unrest. We hear much about social discontent. Beneath all the
outer activity and bustle there is an undertone of profound sadness.
Neither wealth, pleasure, nor politics has availed to conceal the
world's weariness. Strangely enough, just at a time when prosperity is
greatly increased, when our homes are full of comforts and
conveniences, when all the forces of land and sea and sky have lent
themselves to man as willing servants, to carry his messages, run his
errands, reap his harvests, pull his trains, and push his ships; in an
age when a thousand instruments that make for refinement and culture
have been invented, just at this time, strangely enough, unrest and
disquietude have fallen upon our people. Why is our age so sad? Has
Schopenhauer carried the judgment of mankind by his favorite motto,
"It is safer to trust fear than faith?" Is it because our age has lost
faith in God? Have doubt and skepticism burned the divine dew off the
grass, and left it sere and brown? Nay, a thousand times nay!

The world is sad because it has found God, not lost him. Man is weary
in the midst of his wealth and pleasures for the same reason that the
young ruler was grieved and sad in the midst of his great possessions.
Our age has seen the vision splendid, but halts undecided, being ye