im--he sets
himself stoutly to bear it. Alone and unhelped he seems, perhaps,--the
march of the seasons and the vast order of the universe taking no account
of him; yet manfully he will face whatever comes. Whatever comes? It is
the summer that is coming! As certain as to-day's snow and cold, the
season of all beauty and warmth and delight is on its way! The
apple-blossoms, the wild-flowers, the budding of every twig, the
greenness of the pastures, the rejoicing life of animals and birds and
insects, the sweet airs of May, the sunshine of June,--these, and all
varied loveliness beyond imagination's reach or heart's desire, lie just
before us. So for every soul that patiently endures an unimagined summer
waits. Our patient endurance seems to us now a great matter, and indeed
if we have it not we are little worth; but when the more genial season
comes--when there fully reveals itself to us that high meaning of our
lives and that divine destiny of which now we catch but a glimpse--we
shall say, not "How well we endured the winter," but "How glorious is
God's summer!"

Take the case of a man who, having engaged in the active business of
life, feeling himself amply capable of it and longing for it, finds
himself by force of circumstances kept out of work. Perhaps he has his
living to earn, perhaps he has a wife and children to support, and he can
get nothing to do. Well, that is about as hard a place as a man can be
called to stand in. Idleness in itself is hard. It is a burden even to
those who have wealth and all the luxuries and amusements that can be
devised to while away their leisure. It is the very nature of a man who
is good for anything to _do_. Idleness is as unnatural and trying to the
mind as sickness is to the body. But to see those you love in need, to
see them threatened with suffering, to know that you could amply provide
for them if you had a chance, and not to find a chance,--what is so hard
as that?

It is so hard, my friend, that, if you can bear it and not be conquered
by it, you are a hero. If under that load you can keep your patience and
your temper and your courage, you have won a victory such as makes life
worth living. Just as in battle it is the post of danger that is most
honorable, so always the hard place is the place of honor. "But," you
say perhaps, "I don't care about being a hero; I want to see my wife and
children taken care of." That is the best of all reasons for keepi