Duty
Dublin Core
Title
Duty
Subject
Religion
Creator
[Unknown]
Source
http://addison.vt.edu/record=b1775388~S1
Publisher
Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University
Date
April 1877
Contributor
Josh Dobbs, Jenna Zan
Rights
Permission to publish images from The Gray Jacket must be obtained from Special Collections, Virginia Tech.
Format
Text
Language
English
Type
Editorial
Identifier
LD5655.V8 L4, ser.1, v.2, no.6 (April 1877), p.7
Text Item Type Metadata
Text
Some writer, perhaps of legends of the saints, tells a story of a good man who received into his house, clothed, warmed and fed an old beggar, dirty and repulsive. Having departed, warmed, clad and filled, he soon returned, his disguises thrown off, in shining garments, an angel of light, and conferred upon his benefactor ever afterward every blessing, as a reward for his charity. Thus is it with duty. When first looked upon it is repulsive. Stern and remorseless are the terms applied to it. It is always contrasted with and regarded as the opposite of pleasure. To the young, the thought of it is especially unpleasant. They dislike the idea of being required to do certain things imperatively, be cause they ought to do them. They listen to those who are older, who tell them that the faithful performance of duty, however repugnant at first, always brings a sweet reward, try to believe it, but often fail. This is a glorious truth, though perhaps only experience will bring belief in it. Nay, we will go further and say that duty, so far from being the stern task-master that it is generally considered, is always a blessing, and may be the only comfort, the greatest consolation in life. It is always a spur. Those who obey its mandates live high and noble lives. In stead of being sunk in sloth, they truely live, in that, intent upon some glorious object, they pursue their own or another's glory. The faithful performance of duty makes home happier, the society of friends more delightful, and, indeed, sweetens and ennobles every joy.
Yet duty does more than this. In sorrow and affliction it bids us grieve not as those without consolation, and points to active and useful labors as a distraction from sad thoughts and useless repinings. Its faithful performance often brings us into contact with those whose afflictions are greater than those that we have known, and in relieving them we learn to forget our own.
Few recitals of human experience are more pathetic than that which Horace Greeley has given in his "Recollections of a Busy Life," of the death of his only son. He says that when he saw his bright and beautiful boy's eyes close forever upon earth, he realized that for him life's noon day sun had been suddenly and forever veiled, and that there remained to him but the dull gray twilight of its afternoon and evening. This is not a rare experience. Many men and women have known the taking out of life of all that to them rendered it valuable. They have parted with the dearest object of hope or ambition, the one "little ewe lamb" of affection. For awhile, after such an experience, all is blank. They wish to die and hope that they have not long to live. Lying down at night upon sleepless pillows, they rise in the morning with the thought, "Must I live another day?" Or perhaps, nights filled with "dull, mechanic pacings to and fro," are followed by dull, dead days, full of thoughts that bring tears unbidden to the eyes. So far as mere pleasure is concerned their lives are ended. Were nothing else left behind, their days remain as unendurable as they are joyless. Then, indeed, does duty appear, stripped of all its repulsive disguises, in bright and shining garments, an angel of light. It bids those who have nothing left in their own lives worth living for, to look around and live for others. It bids them pick up the burden they have longed to cast aside forever and bear it, so long as it pleases the loving Father that they shall bear it, bravely and well. They err who think that the faithful performance of duty will not fill the life. Few have lived cheerfully who had nothing within or connected with themselves to live for, because few have striven hard enough, worked faithfully enough, for others.
Nothing is so fleeting as happiness, nothing so enduring as the blessedness that flows from the consciousness of duty faithfully performed. The one is given to few, the other may be possessed by all. Of all human possessions it is the most valuable, because it brings in this life, comfort and consolation, and introduces the life beyond with the blissful salutation: "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."—Journal.
Yet duty does more than this. In sorrow and affliction it bids us grieve not as those without consolation, and points to active and useful labors as a distraction from sad thoughts and useless repinings. Its faithful performance often brings us into contact with those whose afflictions are greater than those that we have known, and in relieving them we learn to forget our own.
Few recitals of human experience are more pathetic than that which Horace Greeley has given in his "Recollections of a Busy Life," of the death of his only son. He says that when he saw his bright and beautiful boy's eyes close forever upon earth, he realized that for him life's noon day sun had been suddenly and forever veiled, and that there remained to him but the dull gray twilight of its afternoon and evening. This is not a rare experience. Many men and women have known the taking out of life of all that to them rendered it valuable. They have parted with the dearest object of hope or ambition, the one "little ewe lamb" of affection. For awhile, after such an experience, all is blank. They wish to die and hope that they have not long to live. Lying down at night upon sleepless pillows, they rise in the morning with the thought, "Must I live another day?" Or perhaps, nights filled with "dull, mechanic pacings to and fro," are followed by dull, dead days, full of thoughts that bring tears unbidden to the eyes. So far as mere pleasure is concerned their lives are ended. Were nothing else left behind, their days remain as unendurable as they are joyless. Then, indeed, does duty appear, stripped of all its repulsive disguises, in bright and shining garments, an angel of light. It bids those who have nothing left in their own lives worth living for, to look around and live for others. It bids them pick up the burden they have longed to cast aside forever and bear it, so long as it pleases the loving Father that they shall bear it, bravely and well. They err who think that the faithful performance of duty will not fill the life. Few have lived cheerfully who had nothing within or connected with themselves to live for, because few have striven hard enough, worked faithfully enough, for others.
Nothing is so fleeting as happiness, nothing so enduring as the blessedness that flows from the consciousness of duty faithfully performed. The one is given to few, the other may be possessed by all. Of all human possessions it is the most valuable, because it brings in this life, comfort and consolation, and introduces the life beyond with the blissful salutation: "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."—Journal.