CanTherebeUnity (continued)
things without alarm? Oh, be very sure if you cannot look comfortably at any time in your life but the present, then your boasted happiness is a poor unreal thing! It is but a fancy and decorated coffin—fair and beautiful on the outside, but nothing but bones and decay within. It is a mere thing of a day, like Jonah's gourd. It is not real happiness. I ask my readers to fix in their minds the account of things essential to happiness, which I have attempted to give. Dismiss from your thoughts the many mistaken notions on this subject, they are like counterfeit money. To be truly happy, the wants of your soul and conscience must be satisfied; to be truly happy, your joy must be founded on something more than this world can give you; to be truly happy, you must be able to look on every side—above, below, behind, before—and feel that all is right. This is real, genuine happiness: this is the happiness I have in view when I urge your attention to the subject of this paper. 2. In the next place, "let me expose some common mistakes about the way to be happy." There are several roads which are thought by many to lead to happiness. In each of these roads thousands and tens of thousands of men and women are continually traveling. Each fancies that if he could only attain all he wants he would be happy. Each fancies, if he does not succeed, that the fault is not in his road, but in his own lack of luck and good fortune. And everyone seems ignorant of the fact that they are chasing after shadows. They have started in a wrong direction: they are seeking that which can never be found in the place where they seek it. I will mention by name some of the principal delusions about happiness. I do it in love, and kindness, and compassion to men's souls. I believe it to be a public duty to warn people against cheats, quacks, and impostors. Oh how much trouble and sorrow it might save my readers, if they would only believe what I am going to say!
It is an utter mistake to suppose the "position and fame alone" can give happiness. The kings, presidents, and rulers of this world are not necessarily happy men. They have troubles and crosses, which none know but themselves; they see a thousand evils, which they are unable to remedy; they are slaves working in golden chains, and have less real liberty than any in the world; they have burdens and responsibilities laid upon them, which are a daily weight on their hearts. The Roman Emperor Antonine often said, that "the imperial power was an ocean of miseries." Queen Elizabeth, when she heard a milk-maid singing, wished that she had been born to a lot like hers. Never did the poet write a truer word than when he said, "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." It is an utter mistake to suppose that "riches alone" can give happiness. They can enable a man to command and possess everything but inward peace. They cannot buy a cheerful spirit and a light heart. There is anxiety in the getting of them, and anxiety in the keeping of them, anxiety in the using of them, and anxiety in the disposing of them, anxiety in the gathering, and anxiety in the scattering of them. He is a wise man who said that "money" was only another name for "trouble." It is an utter mistake to suppose that "learning and science alone" can give happiness. They may occupy a man's time and attention, but they cannot really make him happy. They that increase knowledge often "increase sorrow:" the more they learn, the more they discover their own ignorance (Ecclesiastes 1:18). The heart wants something as well as the head: the conscience needs food as well as the intellect. All the secular knowledge in the world will not give a man joy and gladness, when he thinks about sickness, and death, and the grave. They that have climbed the highest, have often found themselves solitary, dissatisfied, and empty of peace. The learned Selden, at the close of his life, confessed that all his learning did not give him such comfort as four verses of Titus: "For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men. It teaches us to say "No" to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age, while we wait for the blessed hope —the glorious appearing of our great God and Saviour, Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good. Titus 2:11-14 It is an utter mistake to suppose that "idleness alone" can give happiness. The laborer who gets up at five in the morning, and goes out to work all day in a cold clay ditch, often thinks, as he walks past the rich man's house, "What a fine thing it must be to have no work to do." Poor fellow! He doesn't know what he is saying. The most miserable creature on earth is the man who has nothing to do. Work for the hands or work for the mind is absolutely essential to human happiness. Without it the mind feeds upon itself, and the whole inward man becomes diseased. The machinery within "will" work, and without something to work upon, will often wear itself to pieces. There was no idleness in the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve had to "work it and take care of it." There will be no idleness in heaven: God's "servants will serve Him." Oh, be very sure the idlest man is the man most truly unhappy! (Genesis 2:15; Revelation 22:3) It is an utter mistake to suppose that "pleasure-seeking and amusement alone" can give happiness. Of all roads that men can take in order to be happy, this is the one that is most completely wrong. Of all weary, flat, dull, and unprofitable ways of spending life, this exceeds them all. To think of a dying creature, with an immortal soul, expecting happiness in feasting and reveling—in dancing and singing —in dressing and visiting—in party-going and gambling—in races and fairs—in hunting and shooting—in crowds, in laughter, in noise, in music, in wine! Surely it is a sight that is enough to make the devil laugh and the angels weep. Even a child will not play with its toys all day long. It must have food. But when grown up men and women think to find happiness in a constant round of amusement they sink far below a child.
I place before every reader of this paper these common mistakes about the way to be happy. I ask you to mark them well. I warn you plainly against these pretended short cuts to happiness, however popular they may be. I tell you that if you believe that anyone of them can lead you to true peace you are entirely deceived. Your conscience will never feel satisfied; your immortal soul will never feel easy: your whole inward man will feel uncomfortable and unhealthy. Take anyone of these roads, or take all of them, and if you have nothing besides to look to, you will never find happiness. You may travel on and on and on, and the wished for object will seem far away at the end of each stage of life as when you started. You are like one pouring water into a sieve, or putting money into a bag with holes. You might as well try to make an elephant happy by feeding him with a grain of sand a day, as try to satisfy that heart of yours with position, riches, learning, idleness, or pleasures. Do you doubt the truth of all that I am saying to you? I dare say you do. Then let us turn to the great Book of human experience, and read over a few lines out of its solemn pages. You will have the testimony of a few competent witnesses on the great subject I am calling to your attention. A king will be our first witness: I mean Solomon, King of Israel. We know that he had power, and wisdom, and wealth, far exceeding that of any ruler of his time. We know from his own confession, that he tried the great experiment of seeing how far the good things of this world can make men happy. We know from the record of his own hand, the result of this curious experiment. He writes it by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, for the benefit of the whole world, in the book of Ecclesiastes. Never, surely, was the experiment tried under such favorable circumstances: never was anyone so likely to succeed as the Jewish King. Yet what is Solomon's testimony? You have it in his melancholy words: "I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after wind" (Ecclesiastes 1:14).
A famous German writer will be our next witness: I mean Goethe. It is well known that he was almost idolized by many during his life. His works were read and admired by thousands. His name was known and honoured, wherever German was read, all over the world. And yet the praise of man, of which he reaped such an abundant harvest, was utterly unable to make Goethe happy. "He confessed, when about eighty years old, that he could not remember being in a really happy state of mind even for a few weeks together; and that when he wished to feel happy, he had to veil his self-consciousness." (Sinclair's Anecdotes and Aphorisms, p. 280) An English poet will be our next witness: I mean Lord Byron, if ever there was one who ought to have been happy according to the standard of the world, Lord Byron was the man. He began life with all the advantages of English rank and position. He had splendid abilities and powers of mind, which the world soon discovered and was ready to honour. He had a sufficiency of means to gratify every lawful wish. Humanly speaking, there seemed nothing to prevent him from enjoying life and being happy. Yet it is a notorious fact that Byron was a miserable man. Misery stands out in his poems: misery creeps out in his letters. Weariness, boredom, disgust, and discontent appear in all of his ways. He is an awful warning that rank, and title, and literary fame, alone, are not sufficient to make a man happy. A man of science will be our next witness: I mean Sir Humphrey Davy. He was a man eminently successful in the line of life which he chose, and deservedly so. A distinguished philosopher— the inventor of the famous safety-lamp which bears his name, and has preserved many a poor miner from death by fiery explosion. A member of the ruling class in England and President of the Royal Society—his whole life seemed a continual career of prosperity. If education alone were the road to happiness, this man at least ought to have been happy. Yet what was the true record of Davy's feelings? We have it in his own sad journal at the latter part of his life. He describes himself in two painful words: "Very miserable!"
The Statesmen and Politicians who have swayed the destinies of the world, ought by good right to be our last witnesses. But I refrain, in Christian love, to bring them forward. It makes my heart ache when I run my eye over the list of names famous in history, and think how many have worn out their lives in a breathless struggle after office and distinction. How many of our greatest men have died of broken hearts—disappointed, disgusted, and tried with constant failure! How many have left on record some humbling confession that in the plenitude of their power they were grieving for rest, as the caged eagle for liberty! How many whom the world is applauding as "masters of the situation," are in reality little better than galleyslaves, chained to the oar and unable to get free! Yes, there are many sad proofs, both among the living and the dead, that to be great and powerful is not necessarily to be happy. I think it very likely that men do not believe what I am saying. I know something of the deceitfulness of the heart on the subject of happiness. There are few things which man is slow to believe as the truths I am now putting forth about the way to be happy. Bear with me then while I say something more. Come and stand with me some afternoon in the heart of the city of London. Let us watch the faces of most of the wealthy men whom we will see leaving their places of business at the close of the day. Some of them are worth hundred of thousands: some of them are worth millions. But what is written in the faces of these grave men whom we see swarming out from the Bank of England and the Stock Exchange? What is the meaning of those deep lines which wrinkle so many a cheek and so many a brow? What is the meaning of that air of anxious thoughtfulness which is worn by five out of every six we meet? Yes, these things tell a serious tale. They tell us that it needs something more than gold and bank notes to make men happy. Come next and stand with me near the Houses of Parliament, in the middle of a busy session. Let us scan the faces of the politicians, whose names are familiar and well-known all over the civilized world. There you may see on some fine evening the mightiest Statesmen in England hurrying to a debate, like eagles to the carcass. Each has the power of good or evil in his tongue which it is fearful to contemplate. Each may say things before tomorrow's sun dawns, which may affect the peace and prosperity of nations, and convulse the world. There you may see the men who hold the reins of power and government already; there you may see the men who are daily watching for an opportunity of snatching those reins out of their hands, and governing in their stead. But what do their faces tell us as they rush to their posts? What may be read in many of their wrinkled foreheads—so absent-looking and sunk in thought? They teach us a solemn lesson. They teach us that it needs something more than political greatness to make men happy. Come next and stand with me in the most fashionable part of London, in the height of the season. Let us visit Regent Street or Pall Mall, Hyde Park or May Fair. How many beautiful faces and splendid clothes we will see! How many we will count in an hour's time who seem to possess the choicest gifts of this world—beauty, wealth, position, fashion, and a throng of friends. But how few we will see who appear happy! In how many faces we will read weariness, dissatisfaction, discontent, sorrow, or unhappiness, as clearly as if it was written with a pen! Yes: it is a humbling lesson to learn, but a very wholesome one. It needs something more than position, and fashion, and beauty, to make people happy. Come next and walk with me through some quiet country village in merry England. Let us visit some secluded corner, far away from the great cities, and fashionable indulgence and political strife. There are many such villages to be found in the land. There are even rural places where there is neither street, nor shop, nor bar—where there is work for all the laborers, and a church for all the population, and a school for all the children, and a minister of the gospel to look after the people. Surely, you will say, we will find happiness here! Surely such places must be the very abodes of peace and joy! Go into these quiet—looking cottages, one by one, and you will soon be shocked. Learn the inner history of each family, and you will soon alter your mind. You will soon discover that backbiting, and lying, and slandering, and envy, and jealousy, and pride, and laziness, and drinking, and extravagance, and lust, and petty quarrels, can murder happiness in the country quite as much as in the town. No doubt a rural village sounds pretty in poetry, and looks beautiful in pictures; but in sober reality human nature is the same evil thing everywhere. Yes, it needs something more than a residence in a quiet country village to make any child of Adam a happy man! I know these are ancient things. They have been said a thousand times before without effect, and I suppose they will be said without effect again. I want no greater proof of the corruption of human nature than the determination with which we seek happiness where happiness cannot be found. Century after century wise men have left on record their experience about the way to be happy. Century after century the children of men will declare that they know the way to happiness perfectly well, and need no teaching. They cast to the winds our warnings; they rush, everyone, on his own favorite path; they walk in a worthless shadow, and trouble themselves in vain, and wake up when it is too late to find that their whole life has been a great mistake. Their eyes are blinded: they will not see that their visions are as baseless and disappointing as the mirage of the African desert. Like the tired traveler in those deserts, they think they are approaching a lake of cooling waters; like the same traveler, they find to their dismay that this imaginary lake was a splendid optical delusion, and that they are still helpless in the midst of burning sands. Are you a young person? I implore you to accept the tender warning of a minister of the Gospel, and not to seek happiness where happiness cannot be found. Don't seek it in riches; don't seek it in power and position; don't seek it in pleasure; don't seek it in learning. All these are bright and splendid fountains: their waters taste sweet. A crowd is standing around them, which will not leave