The Gospel of hard work

Religion won't spoil you in any kind of secular work, it will make you sacred in the midst of all the dangers of secularity. As I said to a company of working-men's wives, not long ago, so I say here: there is more polishing-paste in this text than we have ever taken out of it. It would wonderfully scour and brighten everything if we could get it extracted and applied. It is a perfect battery of energy; would God it might get into us I When we go back to our daily task — whatever you are going to do, in work, in purpose, in enterprise, do it — up and do it. Do not merely think, don't dawdle, do not idle, do not dream. Young or old, rich or poor, mistress or maid, master or man, do not spend thy time in day-dreaming, in star-gazing, in hatching schemes in your imagination, and in thinking marvellous things — of a benevolent nature, for example — that are only castles in the air, and "wee bit fuffin' lewes" (flickering flames), as our Scotch song says. The Bible gives the best rein to every legitimate ambition and power within. Let go; drive on ahead if only this is your driving-power. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might." Then let us apply it to spiritual work. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do," from sweeping under the mats, to taking thy share in the Sacrament, "do it with thy might." For daily toil — no laziness, no mere scheming, and no jerry-building; it is all condemned in here. And for express spiritual work, the same injunction. But have you got the spiritual hand — have you? Let me illustrate what I mean by. that man in the New Testament — you remember him — the man with the withered hand. Do not imagine I am sending you to spiritual work, if you have not the hand to do it, and the heart behind the hand to drive and guide it. But you may get it today. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might," for the day is hastening to its close, everything is passing away. Do not despair, do not sigh, do not mope, do not say, "This takes all pith and stamina out of me": it does not. A horse never runs better than when it is running for the stable; and we may all be doing that through God's grace and mercy. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might," for the night is coming, and God will put no man on the night-shift, not one of us. He is not a hard taskmaster, tie is kind and gracious, only He knows we are lazy, my brother, and that is why. He speaks like this. He knows that even the best of us need to have the spur. I knew a brother student once who dreamt that in a month's time he was going to die. He dreamt it three times over in one night, and although he was naturally as prosaic and matter-of-fact as anybody I ever knew, that dream stuck to him. It was burned into him. Now, people would say that that stopped that man's work, that he simply sat and moped; shut himself in, and sent for the doctor. He did not; he never put in such a month's work in the district where he was missionary, never. It was a pity the vision faded away. It is a pity it should fade away from any of us. It did him no harm, he never had such a month of personal holiness, and such a month of self-sacrifice; doing things with his might, both secular and sacred, for he had only a month, and then the judgment-seat, and Him who sits thereon. Thus it always comes out, whatever way you like to turn, the great lesson from eternity is: Be diligent, and make the most of the passing day, for yourself, for your character, for your neighbour, for your God; for it will all meet you, and be part and parcel of you through eternity. This is the true "Carpe diem philosophy. Of Turner, his servant used to say, I never knew him to be idle." Oh, how some who give themselves up to what we call worldly ambitions put Christians to shame! When he got an order for a picture, he went home, and the same day on which he got the order he spread the canvas, and he had the whole thing in dead colour before he went to bed. Next morning, early, he was at it again. The Lord put into us the Holy Ghost as the Spirit, of hard work. You will not kill yourself by hard work along the lines of God's Book. "The more the marble wastes, the more the statue grows."

(John McNeill.)