tions. The courage of the future comes; the columns
begin a forward march. These upward movements of society are the
yearnings of God's heart lifting his children forward by hope.

Hope and aspiration also furnish the secret springs of civilization.
All things useful and beautiful were once only hopes and ideas. Free
institutions are ideals of liberty, crystallized into word forms.
Tools and instruments are ideals dressed up in iron clothes. The early
forest man dwelt in a cave; ached with cold and moaned with hunger.
Going into the forest to dig roots he found honey hived by the bees and
nuts stored up by squirrels against the winter. Straightway hope
suggested to him a larger granary, whence hath come all man's bins and
storehouses. Man plucked a large plum and found it sour, and another
plum small, but sweet. Hope suggested that he unite the two and strike
through the abundant acid juices of the one with the sugar of the
other. Thence came all vineyards and orchards. Digging in the soil
tired him, but hope suggested that his pet ox might pull his forked
stick; when the wooden stick wore blunt hope replaced it with an iron
point; when the iron point refused to scour hope suggested steel; when
the steel made his burden light and doubled the pace of his steeds,
hope suggested a seat on the plow; when the riding-plow gave him time
to think, hope suggested he could increase the harvest by doubling the
depth, when the weight was overheavy for his beasts, hope suggested a
steam-plow. The Kensington Museum exhibits the growth of the plow
idea, as it moved from the forked stick to the "steam gang." If in
this procession of material plows we could see the procession of ideal
plows we would find that thoughts and hopes are a thousandfold more
than material things.

By hope also do the people increase in wisdom and culture and
character. Millions of men are digging and toiling twelve hours each
day; and God hath sent forth hope to emancipate them from drudgery.
The man digging with his pick hath a far-away look as he toils. Hope
is drawing pictures of a cottage with vines over the doorway, with some
one standing at the gate, a sweet voice singing over the cradle. Hope
makes this home his; it rests the laborer and saves him from despair.
Multitudes working in the stithy and deep mines sweeten their labor and
exalt their toil by aspiring thoughts. Thinking of his little ones at
home, the miner says: "My children sh