FRIENDSHIP

_By_ HUGH BLACK

_With an Introductory Note by_

W. ROBERTSON NICOLL, D. D. 

Chicago--New York--Toronto

FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY

London--Edinburgh

Copyright, 1898, 1903, by

FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY

To MY FRIEND

HECTOR MUNRO FERGUSON

AND TO MANY OTHER FRIENDS WHO HAVE MADE LIFE RICH

_Equidem, ex omnibus rebus, quas mihi aut Fortuna aut Natura tribuit, nihil habeo quod cum amicitia Scipionis possum, comparare. _

CICERO. 

 _Intreat me not to leave thee, And to return from following after thee: For whither thou guest, I will go; And where thou lodgest, I will lodge; Thy people shall be my people, And thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, And there will I be buried: The Lord do so to me, and more also, If aught but death part thee and me. _

 BOOK OF RUTH. 

APPRECIATION

BY SIR WM. ROBERTSON NICOLL, D. D. 

Mr. Hugh Black's wise and charming little book on Friendship is full ofgood things winningly expressed, and, though very simply written, isthe result of real thought and experience. Mr. Black's is the art thatconceals art. For young men, especially, this volume will be a goldenpossession, and it can hardly fail to affect their after lives. Mr. Black says well that the subject of friendship is less thought of amongus now than it was in the old world. Marriage has come to meaninfinitely more. Communion with God in Christ has become to multitudesthe primal fact of life. Nevertheless the need for friendshipremains. --"British Weekly. "

_Friendship is to be valued for what there is in it, not for what canbe gotten out of it. When two people appreciate each other becauseeach has found the other convenient to have around, they are notfriends, they are simply acquaintances with a business understanding. To seek friendship for its utility is as futile as to seek the end of arainbow for its bag of gold. A true friend is always useful in thehighest sense; but we should beware of thinking of our friends asbrother members of a mutual-benefit association, with its periodicaldemands and threats of suspension for non-payment of dues. _

TRUMBULL. 

Contents

I

THE MIRACLE OF FRIENDSHIP

II

THE CULTURE OF FRIENDSHIP

III

THE FRUITS OF FRIENDSHIP

IV

THE CHOICE OF FRIENDSHIP

V

THE ECLIPSE OF FRIENDSHIP

VI

THE WRECK OF FRIENDSHIP

VII

THE RENEWING OF FRIENDSHIP

VIII

THE LIMITS OF FRIENDSHIP

IX

THE HIGHER FRIENDSHIP

The Miracle of Friendship

 But, far away from these, another sort Of lovers linkėd in true heart's consent; Which lovėd not as these for like intent, But on chaste virtue grounded their desire, Far from all fraud or feignėd blandishment; Which, in their spirits kindling zealous fire, Brave thoughts and noble deeds did evermore aspire. 

 Such were great Hercules and Hylas dear, True Jonathan and David trusty tried; Stout Theseus and Pirithöus his fere; Pylades and Orestes by his side; Mild Titus and Gesippus without pride; Damon and Pythias, whom death could not sever; All these, and all that ever had been tied In bands of friendship, there did live forever; Whose lives although decay'd, yet loves decayėd never. 

 SPENSER, The Faerie Queene. 

The Miracle of Friendship

The idea, so common in the ancient writers, is not all a poeticconceit, that the soul of a man is only a fragment of a larger whole, and goes out in search of other souls in which it will find its truecompletion. We walk among worlds unrealized, until we have learned thesecret of love. We know this, and in our sincerest moments admit this, even though we are seeking to fill up our lives with other ambitionsand other hopes. 

It is more than a dream of youth that there may be here a satisfactionof the heart, without which, and in comparison with which, all worldlysuccess is failure. In spite of the selfishness which seems to blightall life, our hearts tell us that there is possible a noblerrelationship of disinterestedness and devotion. Friendship in itsaccepted sense is not the highest of the different grades in thatrelationship, but it has its place in the kingdom of love, and throughit we bring ourselves into training for a still larger love. Thenatural man may be self-absorbed and self-centred, but in a truer senseit is natural for him to give up self and link his life on to others. Hence the joy with which he makes the great discovery, that he issomething to another and another is everything to him. It is thehigher-natural for which he has hitherto existed. It is a miracle, butit happens. 

The cynic may speak of the now obsolete sentiment of friendship, and hecan find much to justify his cynicism. Indeed, on the first blush, ifwe look at the relative place the subject holds in ancient as comparedwith modern literature, we might say that friendship is a sentimentthat is rapidly becoming obsolete. In Pagan writers friendship takes amuch larger place than it now receives. The subject bulks largely inthe works of Plato, Aristotle, Epictetus, Cicero. And among modernwriters it gets most importance in the writings of the morePagan-spirited, such as Montaigne. In all the ancient systems ofphilosophy, friendship was treated as an integral part of the system. To the Stoic it was a blessed occasion for the display of nobility andthe native virtues of the human mind. To the Epicurean it was the mostrefined of the pleasures which made life worth living. In theNicomachean Ethics, Aristotle makes it the culminating point, and outof ten books gives two to the discussion of Friendship. He makes iteven the link of connection between his treatise on Ethics and hiscompanion treatise on Politics. It is to him both the perfection ofthe individual life, and the bond that holds states together. Friendship is not only a beautiful and noble thing for a man, but therealization of it is also the ideal for the state; for if citizens befriends, then justice, which is the great concern of all organizedsocieties, is more than secured. Friendship is thus made the flower ofEthics, and the root of Politics. 

Plato also makes friendship the ideal of the state, where all havecommon interests and mutual confidence. And apart from its place ofprominence in systems of thought, perhaps a finer list of beautifulsayings about friendship could be culled from ancient writers than frommodern. Classical mythology also is full of instances of greatfriendship, which almost assumed the place of a religion itself. 

It is not easy to explain why its part in Christian ethics is so smallin comparison. The change is due to an enlarging of the thought andlife of man. Modern ideals are wider and more impersonal, just as themodern conception of the state is wider. The Christian ideal of loveeven for enemies has swallowed up the narrower ideal of philosophicfriendship. Then possibly also the instinct finds satisfactionelsewhere in the modern man. For example, marriage, in more cases nowthan ever before, supplies the need of friendship. Men and women arenearer in intellectual pursuits and in common tastes than they haveever been, and can be in a truer sense companions. And the deepestexplanation of all is that the heart of man receives a religioussatisfaction impossible before. Spiritual communion makes a man lessdependent on human intercourse. When the heaven is as brass and makesno sign, men are thrown back on themselves to eke out their smallstores of love. 

At the same time friendship is not an obsolete sentiment. It is astrue now as in Aristotle's time that no one would care to live withoutfriends, though he had all other good things. It is still necessary toour life in its largest sense. The danger of sneering at friendship isthat it may be discarded or neglected, not in the interests of a morespiritual affection, but to minister to a debased cynicalself-indulgence. There is possible to-day, as ever, a generousfriendship which forgets self. The history of the heart-life of manproves this. What records we have of such in the literature of everycountry! Peradventure for a good man men have even dared to die. Mankind has been glorified by countless silent heroisms, by unselfishservice, and sacrificing love. Christ, who always took the highestground in His estimate of men and never once put man's capacity for thenoble on a low level, made the high-water mark of human friendship thestandard of His own great action, "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. " This high-water markhas often been reached. Men have given themselves to each other, withnothing to gain, with no self-interest to serve, and with no keepingback part of the price. It is false to history to base life onselfishness, to leave out of the list of human motives the highest ofall. The miracle of friendship has been too often enacted on this dullearth of ours, to suffer us to doubt either its possibility or itswondrous beauty. 

The classic instance of David and Jonathan represents the typicalfriendship. They met, and at the meeting knew each other to be nearerthan kindred. By subtle elective affinity they felt that they belongedto each other. Out of all the chaos of the time and the disorder oftheir lives, there arose for these two souls a new and beautiful world, where there reigned peace, and love, and sweet content. It was themiracle of the death of self. Jonathan forgot his pride, and David hisambition. It was as the smile of God which changed the world to them. One of them it saved from the temptations of a squalid court, and theother from the sourness of an exile's life. Jonathan's princely soulhad no room for envy or jealousy. David's frank nature rose to meetthe magnanimity of his friend. 

In the kingdom of love there was no disparity between the king's sonand the shepherd boy. Such a gift as each gave and received is not tobe bought or sold. It was the fruit of the innate nobility of both: itsoftened and tempered a very trying time for both. Jonathan withstoodhis father's anger to shield his friend: David was patient with Saulfor his son's sake. They agreed to be true to each other in theirdifficult position. Close and tender must have been the bond, whichhad such fruit in princely generosity and mutual loyalty of soul. Fitting was the beautiful lament, when David's heart was bereaved attragic Gilboa, "I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: verypleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passingthe love of women. " Love is always wonderful, a new creation, fair andfresh to every loving soul. It is the miracle of spring to the colddull earth. 

When Montaigne wrote his essay on Friendship, he could do little buttell the story of his friend. The essay continually reverts to this, with joy that he had been privileged to have such a friend, with sorrowat his loss. It is a chapter of his heart. There was an element ofnecessity about it, as there is about all the great things of life. Hecould not account for it. It came to him without effort or choice. Itwas a miracle, but it happened. "If a man should importune me to givea reason why I loved him, I can only answer, because it was he, becauseit was I. " It was as some secret appointment of heaven. They wereboth grown men when they first met, and death separated them soon. "IfI should compare all my life with the four years I had the happiness toenjoy the sweet society of this excellent man, it is nothing but smoke;an obscure and tedious night from the day that I lost him. I have leda sorrowful and languishing life ever since. I was so accustomed to bealways his second in all places and in all interests, that methinks Iam now no more than half a man, and have but half a being. " We wouldhardly expect such passion of love and regret from the easy-going, genial, garrulous essayist. 

The joy that comes from a true communion of heart with another isperhaps one of the purest and greatest in the world, but its functionis not exhausted by merely giving pleasure. Though we may not beconscious of it, there is a deeper purpose in it, an education in thehighest arts of living. We may be enticed by the pleasure it affords, but its greatest good is got by the way. Even intellectually it meansthe opening of a door into the mystery of life. Only love_understands_ after all. It gives insight. We cannot truly knowanything without sympathy, without getting out of self and enteringinto others. A man cannot be a true naturalist, and observe the waysof birds and insects accurately, unless he can watch long and lovingly. We can never know children, unless we love them. Many of the chambersof the house of life are forever locked to us, until love gives us thekey. 

To learn to love all kinds of nobleness gives insight into the truesignificance of things, and gives a standard to settle their relativeimportance. An uninterested spectator sees nothing; or, what is worse, sees wrongly. Most of our mean estimates of human nature in modernliterature, and our false realisms in art, and our stupid pessimisms inphilosophy, are due to an unintelligent reading of surface facts. Menset out to note and collate impressions, and make perhaps a scientificstudy of slumdom, without genuine interest in the lives they see, andtherefore without true insight into them. They miss the inwardness, which love alone can supply. If we look without love we can only seethe outside, the mere form and expression of the subject studied. Onlywith tender compassion and loving sympathy can we see the beauty evenin the eye dull with weeping and in the fixed face pale with care. Wewill often see noble patience shining through them, and loyalty toduty, and virtues and graces unsuspected by others. 

The divine meaning of a true friendship is that it is often the firstunveiling of the secret of love. It is not an end in itself, but hasmost of its worth in what it leads to, the priceless gift of seeingwith the heart rather than with the eyes. To love one soul for itsbeauty and grace and truth is to open the way to appreciate allbeautiful and true and gracious souls, and to recognize spiritualbeauty wherever it is seen. 

The possibility at least of friendship must be a faith with us. Thecynical attitude is an offence. It is possible to find in the worldtrue-hearted, leal, and faithful dealing between man and man. To doubtthis is to doubt the divine in life. Faith in man is essential tofaith in God. In spite of all deceptions and disillusionments, inspite of all the sham fellowships, in spite of the flagrant cases ofself-interest and callous cruelty, we must keep clear and bright ourfaith in the possibilities of our nature. The man who hardens hisheart because he has been imposed on has no real belief in virtue, andwith suitable circumstances could become the deceiver instead of thedeceived. The great miracle of friendship with its infinite wonder andbeauty may be denied to us, and yet we may believe in it. To believethat it is possible is enough, even though in its superbest form it hasnever come to us. To possess it, is to have one of the world'ssweetest gifts. 

Aristotle defines friendship as one soul abiding in two bodies. Thereis no explaining such a relationship, but there is no denying it. Ithas not deserted the world since Aristotle's time. Some of our modernpoets have sung of it with as brave a faith as ever poet of old. Whatsplendid monuments to friendship we possess in Milton's _Lycidas_ andTennyson's _In Memoriam_! In both there is the recognition of thespiritual power of it, as well as the joy and comfort it brought. Thegrief is tempered by an awed wonder and a glad memory. 

The finest feature of Rudyard Kipling's work and it is a constantfeature of it, is the comradeship between commonplace soldiers of nohigh moral or spiritual attainment, and yet it is the strongest forcein their lives, and on occasion makes heroes of them. We feel thattheir faithfulness to each other is almost the only point at whichtheir souls are reached. The threefold cord of his soldiers, vulgar inmind and common in thought as they are, is a cord which we feel is noteasily broken, and it is their friendship and loyalty to each otherwhich save them from utter vulgarity. 

In Walt Whitman there is the same insight into the force of friendshipin ordinary life, with added wonder at the miracle of it. He is thepoet of comrades, and sings the song of companionship more than anyother theme. He ever comes back to the lifelong love of comrades. Themystery and the beauty of it impressed him. 

 O tan-faced prairie-boy, Before you came to camp came many a welcome gift, Praises and presents came and nourishing food, till at last among the recruits _You_ came, taciturn, with nothing to give--we but looked on each other, When lo! more than all the gifts of the world you gave me. 

After all, in spite of the vulgar materialism of our day, we do feelthat the spiritual side of life is the most important, and brings theonly true joy. And friendship in its essence is spiritual. It is thefree, spontaneous outflow of the heart, and is a gift from the greatGiver. 

Friends are born, not made. At least it is so with the higher sort. The marriage of souls is a heavenly mystery, which we cannot explain, and which we need not try to explain. The method by which it isbrought about differs very much, and depends largely on temperament. Some friendships grow, and ripen slowly and steadily with the years. We cannot tell where they began, or how. They have become part of ourlives, and we just accept them with sweet content and glad confidence. We have discovered that somehow we are rested, and inspired, by acertain companionship; that we understand and are understood easily. 

Or it may come like love at first sight, by the thrill of electiveaffinity. This latter is the more uncertain, and needs to be testedand corrected by the trial of the years that follow. It has to befound out whether it is really spiritual kinship, or mere emotionalimpulse. It is a matter of temper and character. A naturally reservedperson finds it hard to open his heart, even when his instinct promptshim; while a sociable, responsive nature is easily companionable. Itis not always this quick attachment, however, which wears best, andthat is the reason why youthful friendships have the character of beingso fickle. They are due to a natural instinctive delight in society. Most young people find it easy to be agreeable, and are ready to placethemselves under new influences. 

But whatever be the method by which a true friendship is formed, whether the growth of time or the birth of sudden sympathy, thereseems, on looking back, to have been an element of necessity. It is asort of predestined spiritual relationship. We speak of a man meetinghis fate, and we speak truly. When we look back we see it to be likedestiny; life converged to life, and there was no getting out of iteven if we wished it. It is not that we made a choice, but that thechoice made us. If it has come gradually, we waken to the presence ofthe force which has been in our lives, and has come into them neverhasting but never resting, till now we know it to be an eternalpossession. Or, as we are going about other business, never dreamingof the thing which occurs, the unexpected happens; on the road a lightshines on us, and life is never the same again. 

In one of its aspects, faith is the recognition of the inevitablenessof providence; and when it is understood and accepted, it brings agreat consoling power into the life. We feel that we are in the handsof a Love that orders our ways, and the knowledge means serenity andpeace. The fatality of friendship is gratefully accepted, as thefatality of birth. To the faith which sees love in all creation, alllife becomes harmony, and all sorts of loving relationships among menseem to be part of the natural order of the world. Indeed, suchmiracles are only to be looked for, and if absent from the life of manwould make it hard to believe in the love of God. 

The world thinks we idealize our friend, and tells us that love isproverbially blind. Not so: it is only love that sees, and thus can"win the secret of a weed's plain heart. " We only see what dull eyesnever see at all. If we wonder what another man sees in his friend, itshould be the wonder of humility, not the supercilious wonder of pride. He sees something which we are not permitted to witness. Beneath andamongst what looks only like worthless slag, there may glitter the puregold of a fair character. That anybody in the world should be got tolove us, and to see in us not what colder eyes see, not even what weare but what we may be, should of itself make us humble and gentle inour criticism of others' friendships. Our friends see the best in us, and by that very fact call forth the best from us. 

The great difficulty in this whole subject is that the relationship offriendship should so often be one-sided. It seems strange that thereshould be so much unrequited affection in the world. It seems almostimpossible to get a completely balanced union. One gives so much more, and has to be content to get so much less. One of the most humiliatingthings in life is when another seems to offer his friendship lavishly, and we are unable to respond. So much love seems to go a-begging. Sofew attachments seem complete. So much affection seems unrequited. 

But are we sure it is unrequited? The difficulty is caused by ourcommon selfish standards. Most people, if they had their choice, wouldprefer to be loved rather than to love, if only one of the alternativeswere permitted. That springs from the root of selfishness in humannature, which makes us think that possession brings happiness. But theglory of life is to love, not to be loved; to give, not to get; toserve, not to be served. It may not be our fault that we cannotrespond to the offer of friendship or love, but it is our misfortune. The secret is revealed to the other, and hid from us. The gain is tothe other, and the loss is to us. The miracle is the love, and to thelover comes the wonder of it, and the joy. 

The Culture of Friendship

How were Friendship possible? In mutual devotedness to the Good andTrue: otherwise impossible, except as Armed Neutrality, or hollowCommercial League. A man, be the Heavens ever praised, is sufficientfor himself; yet were ten men, united in Love, capable of being and ofdoing what ten thousand singly would fail in. Infinite is the help mancan yield to man. 

CARLYLE, Sartor Resartus. 

The Culture of Friendship

The Book of Proverbs might almost be called a treatise on Friendship, so full is it of advice about the sort of person a young man shouldconsort with, and the sort of person he should avoid. It is full ofshrewd, and prudent, and wise, sometimes almost worldly-wise, counsel. It is caustic in its satire about false friends, and about the way inwhich friendships are broken. "The rich hath many friends, " with aneasily understood implication concerning their quality. "Every man isa friend to him that giveth gifts, " is its sarcastic comment on theordinary motives of mean men. Its picture of the plausible, fickle, lip-praising, and time-serving man, who blesseth his friend with a loudvoice, rising early in the morning, is a delicate piece of satire. Thefragile connections among men, as easily broken as mended pottery, getillustration in the mischief-maker who loves to divide men. "Awhisperer separateth chief friends. " There is keen irony here over thequality of ordinary friendship, as well as condemnation of thetale-bearer and his sordid soul. 

This cynical attitude is so common that we hardly expect such a shrewdbook to speak heartily of the possibilities of human friendship. Itsobject rather is to put youth on its guard against the dangers andpitfalls of social life. It gives sound commercial advice aboutavoiding becoming surety for a friend. It warms [Transcriber's note:warns?] against the tricks, and cheats, and bad faith, which swarmed inthe streets of a city then, as they do still. It laughs, a littlebitterly, at the thought that friendship can be as common as the eager, generous heart of youth imagines. It almost sneers at the gullibilityof men in this whole matter. "He that maketh many friends doeth it tohis own destruction. "

And yet there is no book, even in classical literature, which so exaltsthe idea of friendship, and is so anxious to have it truly valued, andcarefully kept. The worldly-wise warnings are after all in theinterests of true friendship. To condemn hypocrisy is not, as is sooften imagined, to condemn religion. To spurn the spurious is not toreject the true. A sneer at folly may be only a covert argument forwisdom. Satire is negative truth. The unfortunate thing is that mostmen, who begin with the prudential worldly-wise philosophy, end there. They never get past the sneer. Not so this wise book. In spite of itsinsight into the weakness of man, in spite of its frank denunciation ofthe common masquerade of friendship, it speaks of the true kind inwords of beauty that have never been surpassed in all the manyappraisements of this subject. "A friend loveth at all times, and is abrother born for adversity. Faithful are the wounds of a friend. Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart, so doth the sweetness of aman's friend by hearty counsel. Thine own friend and thy father'sfriend forsake not. " These are not the words of a cynic, who has lostfaith in man. 

True, this golden friendship is not a common thing to be picked up inthe street. It would not be worth much if it were. Like wisdom itmust be sought for as for hid treasures, and to keep it demands careand thought. To think that every goose is a swan, that every newcomrade is the man of your own heart, is to have a very shallow heart. Every casual acquaintance is not a hero. There are pearls of theheart, which cannot be thrown to swine. Till we learn what a sacredthing a true friendship is, it is futile to speak of the culture offriendship. The man who wears his heart on his sleeve cannot wonder ifdaws peck at it. There ought to be a sanctuary, to which few receiveadmittance. It is great innocence, or great folly, and in thisconnection the terms are almost synonymous, to open our arms toeverybody to whom we are introduced. The Book of Proverbs, as a manualon friendship, gives as shrewd and caustic warnings as are needed, butit does not go to the other extreme, and say that all men are liars, that there are no truth and faithfulness to be found. To say so is tospeak in haste. There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother, says this wisest of books. There is possible such a blessedrelationship, a state of love and trust and generous comradehood, wherea man feels safe to be himself, because he knows that he will noteasily be misunderstood. 

The word friendship has been abased by applying it to low and unworthyuses, and so there is plenty of copy still to be got from life by thecynic and the satirist. The sacred name of friend has been bandiedabout till it runs the risk of losing its true meaning. Rossetti'sversicle finds its point in life--

 "Was it a friend or foe that spread these lies?" "Nay, who but infants question in such wise? 'T was one of my most intimate enemies. "

It is useless to speak of cultivating the great gift of friendshipunless we make clear to ourselves what we mean by a friend. We makeconnections and acquaintances, and call them friends. We have fewfriendships, because we are not willing to pay the price of friendship. 

If we think it is not worth the price, that is another matter, and isquite an intelligible position, but we must not use the word indifferent senses, and then rail at fate because there is no miracle ofbeauty and joy about our sort of friendship. Like all other spiritualblessings it comes to all of us at some time or other, and like them isoften let slip. We have the opportunities, but we do not make use ofthem. Most men make friends easily enough: few keep them. They do notgive the subject the care, and thought, and trouble, it requires anddeserves. We want the pleasure of society, without the duty. We wouldlike to get the good of our friends, without burdening ourselves withany responsibility about keeping them friends. The commonest mistakewe make is that we spread our intercourse over a mass, and have nodepth of heart left. We lament that we have no stanch and faithfulfriend, when we have really not expended the love which produces such. We want to reap where we have not sown, the fatuousness of which weshould see as soon as it is mentioned. "She that asks her dear fivehundred friends" (as Cowper satirically describes a well-known type)cannot expect the exclusive affection, which she has not given. 

The secret of friendship is just the secret of all spiritual blessing. The way to get is to give. The selfish in the end can never getanything but selfishness. The hard find hardness everywhere. As youmete, it is meted out to you. 

Some men have a genius for friendship. That is because they are openand responsive, and unselfish. They truly make the most of life; forapart from their special joys, even intellect is sharpened by thedevelopment of the affections. No material success in life iscomparable to success in friendship. We really do ourselves harm byour selfish standards. There is an old Latin proverb, [1] expressingthe worldly view, which says that it is not possible for a man to loveand at the same time to be wise. This is only true when wisdom is madeequal to prudence and selfishness, and when love is made the same. Rather it is never given to a man to be wise in the true and noblesense, until he is carried out of himself in the purifying passion oflove, or the generosity of friendship. The self-centred being cannotkeep friends, even when he makes them; his selfish sensitiveness isalways in the way, like a diseased nerve ready to be irritated. 

The culture of friendship is a duty, as every gift represents aresponsibility. It is also a necessity; for without watchful care itcan no more remain with us than can any other gift. Without culture itis at best only a potentiality. We may let it slip, or we can use itto bless our lives. The miracle of friendship, which came at firstwith its infinite wonder and beauty, wears off, and the glory fadesinto the light of common day. The early charm passes, and the soulforgets the first exaltation. We are always in danger of mistaking thecommon for the commonplace. We must not look upon it merely as thegreat luxury of life, or it will cease to be even that. It begins withemotion, but if it is to remain it must become a habit. Habit is fixedwhen an accustomed thing is organized into life; and, whatever be thegenesis of friendship, it must become a habit, or it is in danger ofpassing away as other impressions have done before. 

Friendship needs delicate handling. We can ruin it by stupidblundering at the very birth, and we can kill it by neglect. It is notevery flower that has vitality enough to grow in stony ground. Lack ofreticence, which is only the outward sign of lack of reverence, isresponsible for the death of many a fair friendship. Worse still, itis often blighted at the very beginning by the insatiable desire forpiquancy in talk, which can forget the sacredness of confidence. "Anacquaintance grilled, scored, devilled, and served with mustard andcayenne pepper, excites the appetite; whereas a slice of old friendwith currant jelly is but a sickly, unrelishing meat. " [2] Nothing isgiven to the man who is not worthy to possess it, and the shallow heartcan never know the joy of a friendship, for the keeping of which he isnot able to fulfil the essential conditions. Here also it is true thatfrom the man that hath not, is taken away even that which he hath. 

The method for the culture of friendship finds its best and briefestsummary in the Golden Rule. To do to, and for, your friend what youwould have him do to, and for, you, is a simple compendium of the wholeduty of friendship. The very first principle of friendship is that itis a mutual thing, as among spiritual equals, and therefore it claimsreciprocity, mutual confidence and faithfulness. There must besympathy to keep in touch with each other, but sympathy needs to beconstantly exercised. It is a channel of communication, which has tobe kept open, or it will soon be clogged and closed. 

The practice of sympathy may mean the cultivation of similar tastes, though that will almost naturally follow from the fellowship. But tocultivate similar tastes does not imply either absorption of one of thepartners, or the identity of both. Rather, part of the charm of theintercourse lies in the difference, which exists in the midst ofagreement. What is essential is that there should be a real desire anda genuine effort to understand each other. It is well worth whiletaking pains to preserve a relationship so full of blessing to both. 

Here, as in all connections among men, there is also ample scope forpatience. When we think of our own need for the constant exercise ofthis virtue, we will admit its necessity for others. After the firstflush of communion has passed, we must see in a friend things whichdetract from his worth, and perhaps things which irritate us. This isonly to say that no man is perfect. With tact, and tenderness andpatience, it may be given us to help to remove what may be flaws in afine character, and in any case it is foolish to forget the greatvirtues of our friend in fretful irritation at a few blemishes. We cankeep the first ideal in our memory, even if we know that it is not yetan actual fact. We must not let our intercourse be coarsened, but mustkeep it sweet and delicate, that it may remain a refuge from the coarseworld, a sanctuary where we leave criticism outside, and can breathefreely. 

_Trust_ is the first requisite for making a friend. How can we beanything but alone, if our attitude to men is one of armed neutrality, if we are suspicious, and assertive, and querulous, and over-cautiousin our advances? Suspicion kills friendship. There must be somemagnanimity and openness of mind, before a friendship can be formed. We must be willing to give ourselves freely and unreservedly. 

Some find it easier than others to make advances, because they arenaturally more trustful. A beginning has to be made somehow, and if weare moved to enter into personal association with another, we must notbe too cautious in displaying our feeling. If we stand off in coldreserve, the ice, which trembled to thawing, is gripped again by theblack hand of frost. There may be a golden moment which has been lostthrough a foolish reserve. We are so afraid of giving ourselves awaycheaply--and it is a proper enough feeling, the value of which we learnthrough sad experience--but on the whole perhaps the warm nature, whichacts on impulse, is of a higher type, than the over-cautious nature, ever on the watch lest it commit itself. We can do nothing with eachother, we cannot even do business with each other, without a certainamount of trust. Much more necessary is it in the beginning of adeeper intercourse. 

And if trust is the first requisite for making a friend, _faithfulness_is the first requisite for keeping him. The way to have a friend is tobe a friend. Faithfulness is the fruit of trust. We must be ready tolay hold of every opportunity which occurs of serving our friend. Lifeis made up to most of us of little things, and many a friendshipwithers through sheer neglect. Hearts are alienated, because each iswaiting for some great occasion for displaying affection. The greatspiritual value of friendship lies in the opportunities it affords forservice, and if these are neglected it is only to be expected that thegift should be taken from us. Friendship, which begins with sentiment, will not live and thrive on sentiment. There must be loyalty, whichfinds expression in service. It is not the greatness of the help, orthe intrinsic value of the gift, which gives it its worth, but theevidence it is of love and thoughtfulness. 

Attention to detail is the secret of success in every sphere of life, and little kindnesses, little acts of considerateness, littleappreciations, little confidences, are all that most of us are calledon to perform, but they are all that are needed to keep a friendshipsweet. Such thoughtfulness keeps our sentiment in evidence to bothparties. If we never show our kind feeling, what guarantee has ourfriend, or even ourself, that it exists? Faithfulness in deed is theoutward result of constancy of soul, which is the rarest, and thegreatest, of virtues. If there has come to us the miracle offriendship, if there is a soul to which our soul has been drawn, it issurely worth while being loyal and true. Through the little occasionsfor helpfulness, we are training for the great trial, if it should evercome, when the fabric of friendship will be tested to the veryfoundation. The culture of friendship, and its abiding worth, neverfound nobler expression than in the beautiful proverb, [3] "A friendloveth at all times, and is a brother born for adversity. "

Most men do not deserve such a gift from heaven. They look upon it asa convenience, and accept the privilege of love without theresponsibility of it. They even use their friends for their ownselfish purposes, and so never have true friends. Some men shedfriends at every step they rise in the social scale. It is mean andcontemptible to merely use men, so long as they further one's personalinterests. But there is a nemesis on such heartlessness. To such cannever come the ecstasy and comfort of mutual trust. This worldlypolicy can never truly succeed. It stands to reason that they cannothave brothers born for adversity, and cannot count on the joy of thelove that loveth at all times; for they do not possess the qualitywhich secures it. To act on the worldly policy, to treat a friend asif he might become an enemy, is of course to be friendless. Tosacrifice a tried and trusted friend for any personal advantage of gainor position, is to deprive our own heart of the capacity for friendship. 

The passion for novelty will sometimes lead a man to act like this. Some shallow minds are ever afflicted by a craving for new experiences. They sit very loosely to the past. They are the easy victims of theuntried, and yearn perpetually for novel sensations. In this matter offriendship they are ready to forsake the old for the new. They arealways finding a swan in every goose they meet. They have their rewardin a widowed heart. Says Shakespeare in his great manner, --

 The friends thou hast and their adoption tried Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel, But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. 

The culture of friendship must pass into the consecration offriendship, if it is to reach its goal. It is a natural evolution. Friendship cannot be permanent unless it becomes spiritual. There mustbe fellowship in the deepest things of the soul, community in thehighest thoughts, sympathy with the best endeavors. We are barteringthe priceless boon, if we are looking on friendship merely as a luxury, and not as a spiritual opportunity. It is, or can be, an occasion forgrowing in grace, for learning love, for training the heart to patienceand faith, for knowing the joy of humble service. We are throwing awayour chance, if we are not striving to be an inspiring and healthfulenvironment to our friend. We are called to be our best to our friend, that he may be his best to us, bringing out what is highest and deepestin the nature of both. 

The culture of friendship is one of the approved instruments of cultureof the heart, without which a man has not truly come into his kingdom. It is often only the beginning, but through tender and careful cultureit may be an education for the larger life of love. It broadens out inever-widening circles, from the particular to the general, and from thegeneral to the universal--from the individual to the social, and fromthe social to God. The test of religion is ultimately a very simpleone. If we do not love those whom we have seen, we cannot love thosewhom we have not seen. All our sentiment about people at a distance, and our heart-stirrings for the distressed and oppressed, and ourprayers for the heathen, are pointless and fraudulent, if we areneglecting the occasions for service lying to our hand. If we do notlove our brethren here, how can we love our brethren elsewhere, exceptas a pious sentimentality? And if we do not love those we have seen, how can we love God whom we have not seen?

This is the highest function of friendship, and is the reason why itneeds thoughtful culture. We should be led to God by the joy of ourlives as well as by the sorrow, by the light as well as by thedarkness, by human intercourse as well as by human loneliness. He isthe Giver of every good gift. We wound His heart of love, when we sinagainst love. The more we know of Christ's spirit, and the more wethink of the meaning of God's fathomless grace, the more will we beconvinced that the way to please the Father and to follow the Son is tocultivate the graces of kindliness and gentleness and tenderness, togive ourselves to the culture of the heart. Not in the ecclesiasticalarena, not in polemic for a creed, not in self-assertion anddisputings, do we please our Master best, but in the simple service oflove. To seek the good of men is to seek the glory of God. They arenot two things, but one and the same. To be a strong hand in the darkto another in the time of need, to be a cup of strength to a human soulin a crisis of weakness, is to know the glory of life. To be a truefriend, saving his faith in man, and making him believe in theexistence of love, is to save his faith in God. And such service ispossible for all. We need not wait for the great occasion and for theexceptional opportunity. We can never be without our chance, if we areready to keep the miracle of love green in our hearts by humble service. 

 The primal duties shine aloft like stars. The charities that soothe and heal and bless, Are scattered at the feet of man like flowers. 

[1] _Non simul cuiquam conceditur, amare et sapere_. 

[2] Thackeray, _Roundabout Papers_. 

[3] Proverbs xvii. 17, R. V. Margin. 

The Fruits of Friendship

Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for theirlabor. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe tohim that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help himup. And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and athreefold cord is not quickly broken. --ECCLESIASTES. 

 O friend, my bosom said, Through thee alone the sky is arched, Through thee the rose is red, All things through thee take nobler form And look beyond the earth, And is the mill-round of our fate, A sun-path in thy worth. Me too thy nobleness has taught To master my despair; The fountains of my hidden life Are through thy friendship fair. 

 EMERSON. 

The Fruits of Friendship

In our utilitarian age things are judged by their practical value. Menask of everything, What is its use? Nothing is held to be outsidecriticism, neither the law because of its authority, nor religionbecause of its sacredness. Every relationship in life also has beenquestioned, and is asked to show the reason of its existence. Evensome relationships like marriage, for long held to be above question, are put into the crucible. 

On the whole it is a good spirit, though it can be abused and carriedto an absurd extreme. Criticism is inevitable, and ought to bewelcomed, provided we are careful about the true standard to apply. When we judge a thing by its use, we must not have a narrow view ofwhat utility is. Usefulness to man is not confined to mere materialvalues. The common standards of the market-place cannot be applied tothe whole of life. The things which cannot be bought cannot be sold, and the keenest valuator would be puzzled to put a price on some ofthese unmarketable wares. 

When we seek to show what are the fruits of friendship, we may be saidto put ourselves in line with the critical spirit of our age. But evenif it were proven that a man could make more of his life materially byhimself, if he gave no hostages to fortune, it would not follow that itis well to disentangle oneself from the common human bonds; for our_caveat_ would here apply, that utility is larger than mere materialgain. 

But even from this point of view friendship justifies itself. Two arebetter than one; for they have a good reward for their labor. Theprinciple of association in business is now accepted universally. Itis found even to pay, to share work and profit. Most of the world'sbusiness is done by companies, or partnerships, or associated endeavorof some kind. And the closer the intimacy between the men so engaged, the intimacy of common desires and common purposes, and mutual respectand confidence, and, if possible, friendship, the better chance thereis for success. Two are better than one from the point of view even ofthe reward of each, and a threefold cord is not quickly broken, when asingle strand would snap. 

When men first learned, even in its most rudimentary sense, that unionis strength, the dawn of civilization began. For offence and fordefence, the principle of association early proved itself the fittestfor survival. The future is always with Isaac, not with Ishmael--withJacob, not with Esau. In everything this is seen, in the struggle ofraces, or trade, or ideas. Even as a religious method to make animpact on the world, it is true. John of the Desert touched here alife, and there a life; Jesus of Nazareth, seeking disciples, foundinga society, moved the world to its heart. 

It is not necessary to labor this point, that two are better than one, to a commercial age like ours, which, whatever it does not know, atleast knows its arithmetic. We would say that it is self-evident, thatby the law of addition it is double, and by the law of multiplicationtwice the number. But it is not so exact as that, nor so self-evident. When we are dealing with men, our ready-reckoner rules do not work outcorrectly. In this region one and one are not always two. They aresometimes more than two, and sometimes less than two. Union of allkinds, which may be strength, may be weakness. It was not till Gideonweeded out his army, once and twice, that he was promised victory. Thefruits of friendship may be corrupting, and unspeakably evil to thelife. The reward of the labor of two may be less than that of one. The boy pulling a barrow is lucky if he get another boy to shovebehind, but if the boy behind not only ceases to shove, but sits on thebarrow, the last end is worse than the first. A threefold cord withtwo of the strands rotten is worse than a single sound strand, for itdeceives into putting too much weight on it. 

In social economics it is evident that society is not merely the sum ofthe units that compose it. Two are better than one, not merely becausethe force is doubled. It may even be said that two are better thantwo. Two together mean more than two added singly; for a new elementis introduced which increases the power of each individually. When theman Friday came into the life of Robinson Crusoe, he brought with him agreat deal more than his own individual value, which with his lowercivilization would not be very much. But to Robinson Crusoe herepresented society, and all the possibilities of social polity. Itmeant also the satisfaction of the social instincts, the play of theaffections, and made Crusoe a different man. The two living togetherwere more than the two living on different desert islands. 

The truth of this strange contradiction of the multiplication table isseen in the relationship of friends. Each gives to the other, and eachreceives, and the fruit of the intercourse is more than either inhimself possesses. Every individual relationship has contact with auniversal. To reach out to the fuller life of love is a divineenchantment, because it leads to more than itself, and is the open doorinto the mystery of life. We feel ourselves united to the race and nolonger isolated units, but in the sweep of the great social forceswhich mould mankind. Every bond which binds man to man is a newargument for the permanence of life itself, and gives a new insightinto its meaning. Love is the pledge and the promise of the future. 

Besides this cosmic and perhaps somewhat shadowy benefit, there aremany practical fruits of friendship to the individual. These may beclassified and subdivided almost endlessly, and indeed in every specialfriendship the fruits of it will differ according to the character andcloseness of the tie, and according to the particular gifts of each ofthe partners. One man can give to his friend some quality of sympathy, or some kind of help, or can supply some social need which is lackingin his character or circumstances. Perhaps it is not possible to get abetter division of the subject than the three noble fruits offriendship which Bacon enumerates--peace in the affections, support ofthe judgment, and aid in all actions and occasions. 

First of all there is the _satisfaction of the heart_. We cannot livea self-centred life, without feeling that we are missing the true gloryof life. We were made for social intercourse, if only that the highestqualities of our nature might have an opportunity for development. Thejoy, which a true friendship gives, reveals the existence of the wantof it, perhaps previously unfelt. It is a sin against ourselves to letour affections wither. This sense of incompleteness is an argument infavor of its possible satisfaction; our need is an argument for itsfulfilment. Our hearts demand love, as truly as our bodies demandfood. We cannot live among men, suspicious, and careful of our owninterests, and fighting for our own hand, without doing dishonor andhurt to our own nature. To be for ourselves puts the whole worldagainst us. To harden our heart hardens the heart of the universe. 

We need sympathy, and therefore we crave for friendship. Even the mostperfect of the sons of men felt this need of intercourse of the heart. Christ, in one aspect the most self-contained of men, showed this humanlonging all through His life. He ever desired opportunities forenlargement of heart--in His disciples, in an inner circle within thecircle, in the household of Bethany. "Will ye also go away?" He askedin the crisis of His career. "Could ye not watch with Me one hour?" Hesighed in His great agony. He was perfectly human, and therefore feltthe lack of friendship. The higher our relationships with each otherare, the closer is the intercourse demanded. Highest of all in thethings of the soul, we feel that the true Christian life cannot belived in the desert, but must be a life among men, and this because itis a life of joy as well as of service. We feel that, for the foundingof our life and the completion of our powers, we need intercourse withour kind. Stunted affections dwarf the whole man. We live byadmiration, hope, and love, and these can be developed only in thesocial life. 

The sweetest and most stable pleasures also are never selfish. Theyare derived from fellowship, from common tastes, and mutual sympathy. Sympathy is not a quality merely needed in adversity. It is needed asmuch when the sun shines. Indeed, it is more easily obtained inadversity than in prosperity. It is comparatively easy to sympathizewith a friend's _failure_, when we are not so true-hearted about hissuccess. When a man is down in his luck, he can be sure of at least acertain amount of good-fellowship to which he can appeal. It isdifficult to keep a little touch of malice, or envy, out ofcongratulations. It is sometimes easier to weep with those who weep, than to rejoice with those who rejoice. This difficulty is felt notwith people above us, or with little connection with us, but with ourequals. When a friend succeeds, there may be a certain regret whichhas not always an evil root, but is due to a fear that he is gettingbeyond our reach, passing out of our sphere, and perhaps will not needor desire our friendship so much as before. It is a dangerous feelingto give way to, but up to a certain point is natural and legitimate. Aperfect friendship would not have room for such grudging sympathy, butwould rejoice more for the other's success than for his own. Theenvious, jealous man never can be a friend. His mean spirit ofdetraction and insinuating ill-will kills friendship at its birth. Plutarch records a witty remark about Plistarchus, who was told that anotorious railer had spoken well of him. "I'll lay my life, " said he, "somebody has told him I am dead, for he can speak well of no manliving. "

For true satisfaction of the heart, there must be a fount of sympathyfrom which to draw in all the vicissitudes of life. Sorrow asks forsympathy, aches to let its griefs be known and shared by a kindredspirit. To find such, is to dispel the loneliness from life. To havea heart which we can trust, and into which we can pour our griefs andour doubts and our fears, is already to take the edge from grief, andthe sting from doubt, and the shade from fear. 

Joy also demands that its joy should be shared. The man who has foundhis sheep that was lost calls together his neighbors, and bids themrejoice with him because he has found the sheep that was lost. Joy ismore social than grief. Some forms of grief desire only to creep awayinto solitude like a wounded beast to its lair, to suffer alone and todie alone. But joy finds its counterpart in the sunshine and theflowers and the birds and the little children, and enters easily intoall the movements of life. Sympathy will respond to a friend'sgladness, as well as vibrate to his grief. A simple generousfriendship will thus add to the joy, and will divide the sorrow. 

The religious life, in spite of all the unnatural experiments ofmonasticism and all its kindred ascetic forms, is preėminently a lifeof friendship. It is individual in its root, and social in its fruits. It is when two or three are gathered together that religion becomes afact for the world. The joy of religion will not be hid and buried ina man's own heart. "Come, see a man that told me all that ever I did, "is the natural outcome of the first wonder and the first faith. Itspreads from soul to soul by the impact of soul on soul, from theoriginal impact of the great soul of God. 

Christ's ideal is the ideal of a Kingdom, men banded together in acommon cause, under common laws, serving the same purpose of love. Itis meant to take effect upon man in all his social relationships, inthe home, in the city, in the state. Its greatest triumphs have beenmade through friendship, and it in turn has ennobled and sanctified thebond. The growth of the Kingdom depends on the sanctified working ofthe natural ties among men. It was so at the very start; John theBaptist pointed out the Christ to John the future Apostle and toAndrew; Andrew findeth his own brother Simon Peter; Philip findethNathanael; and so society through its network of relations took intoits heart the new message. The man who has been healed must go andtell those who are at home, must declare it to his friends, and seekthat they also should share in his great discovery. 

The very existence of the Church as a body of believers is due to thisnecessity of our nature, which demands opportunity for the interchangeof Christian sentiment. The deeper the feeling, the greater is the joyof sharing it with another. There is a strange felicity, a wondrousenchantment, which comes from true intimacy of heart, and closecommunion of soul, and the result is more than mere fleeting joy. Whenit is shared in the deepest thoughts and highest aspirations, when itis built on a common faith, and lives by a common hope, it bringsperfect peace. No friendship has done its work until it reaches thesupremest satisfaction of spiritual communion. 

Besides this satisfaction of the heart, friendship also gives_satisfaction of the mind_. Most men have a certain natural diffidencein coming to conclusions and forming opinions for themselves. Werarely feel confident, until we have secured the agreement of others inwhom we trust. There is always a personal equation in all ourjudgments, so that we feel that they require to be amended bycomparison with those of others. Doctors ask for a consultation, whena case becomes critical. We all realize the advantage of takingcounsel. To ask for advice is a benefit, whether we follow the adviceor no. Indeed, the best benefit often comes from the opportunity oftesting our own opinion and finding it valid. Sometimes the verystatement of the case is enough to prove it one thing or the other. Anadvantage is reaped from a sympathetic listener, even although ourfriend be unable to elucidate the matter by his special sagacity orexperience. Friends in counsel gain much intellectually. They acquiresomething approaching to a standard of judgment, and are enabled toclassify opinions, and to make up the mind more accurately andsecurely. Through talking a subject over with another, one gets freshside-lights into it, new avenues open up, and the whole questionbecomes larger and richer. Bacon says, "Friendship maketh daylight inthe understanding, out of darkness and confusion of thoughts: neitheris this to be understood only of faithful counsel, which a manreceiveth from his friend; but before you come to that, certain it is, that whosoever hath his mind fraught with many thoughts, his wits andunderstanding do clarify and break up in the communicating anddiscoursing with another; he tosseth his thoughts more easily; hemarshalleth them more orderly; he seeth how they look when they areturned into words; finally he waxeth wiser than himself; and that moreby an hour's discourse than by a day's meditation. "

We must have been struck with the brilliancy of our own conversationand the profundity of our own thoughts, when we shared them with one, with whom we were in sympathy at the time. The brilliancy was notours; it was the reflex action which was the result of the communion. That is why the effect of different people upon us is different, onemaking us creep into our shell and making us unable almost to utter aword; another through some strange magnetism enlarging the bounds ofour whole being and drawing the best out of us. The true insight afterall is love. It clarifies the intellect, and opens the eyes to muchthat was obscure. 

Besides the subjective influence, there may be the great gain of honestcounsel. A faithful friend can be trusted not to speak merely softwords of flattery. It is often the spectator who sees most of thegame, and, if the spectator is at the same time keenly interested inus, he can have a more unbiased opinion than we can possibly have. Hemay have to say that which may wound our self-esteem; he may have tospeak for correction rather than for commendation; but "Faithful arethe wounds of a friend. " The flatterer will take good care not tooffend our susceptibilities by too many shocks of wholesometruth-telling; but a friend will seek our good, even if he must say thething we hate to hear at the time. 

This does not mean that a friend should always be what is calledplain-spoken. Many take advantage of what they call a true interest inour welfare, in order to rub gall into our wounds. The man who boastsof his frankness and of his hatred of flattery, is usually notfrank--but only brutal. A true friend will never needlessly hurt, butalso will never let slip occasions through cowardice. To speak thetruth in love takes off the edge of unpleasantness, which so often isfound in truth-speaking. And however the wound may smart, in the endwe are thankful for the faithfulness which caused it. "Let therighteous smite me; it shall be a kindness: and let him reprove me; itshall be an excellent oil, which shall not break my head. "

In our relations with each other, there is usually more advantage to bereaped from friendly encouragement, than from friendly correction. True criticism does not consist, as so many critics seem to think, indepreciation, but in appreciation; in putting oneself sympatheticallyin another's position, and seeking to value the real worth of his work. There are more lives spoiled by undue harshness, than by unduegentleness. More good work is lost from want of appreciation than fromtoo much of it; and certainly it is not the function of friendship todo the critic's work. Unless carefully repressed, such a spiritbecomes censorious, or, worse still, spiteful, and has often been themeans of losing a friend. It is possible to be kind, without givingcrooked counsel, or oily flattery; and it is possible to be true, without magnifying faults, and indulging in cruel rebukes. 

Besides the joy of friendship, and its aid in matters of counsel, athird of its noble fruits is the direct _help_ it can give us in thedifficulties of life. It gives strength to the character. It sobersand steadies through the responsibility for each other which it means. When men face the world together, and are ready to stand shoulder toshoulder, the sense of comradeship makes each strong. This help maynot often be called into play, but just to know that it is there ifneeded is a great comfort, to know that if one fall the other will lifthim up. The very word friendship suggests kindly help and aid indistress. Shakespeare applies the word in _King Lear_ to an inanimatething with this meaning of helpfulness, --

 Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel; Some _friendship_ will it lend you 'gainst the tempest. 

Sentiment does not amount to much, if it is not an inspiring force tolead to gentle and to generous deeds, when there is need. The fight isnot so hard, when we know that we are not alone, but that there aresome who think of us, and pray for us, and would gladly help us if theyget the opportunity. 

Comradeship is one of the finest facts, and one of the strongest forcesin life. A mere strong man, however capable, and however singlysuccessful, is of little account by himself. There is no glamour ofromance in his career. The kingdom of Romance belongs to David, not toSamson--to David, with his eager, impetuous, affectionate nature, forwhom three men went in the jeopardy of life to bring him a drink ofwater; and all for love of him. It is not the self-centred, self-contained hero, who lays hold of us; it is ever the comradeship ofheroes. Dumas' Three Musketeers (and the Gascon who made a greaterfourth), with their oath, "Each for all, and all for each, " inheritthat kingdom of Romance, with all that ever have been tied in bands oflove. 

Robertson of Brighton in one of his letters tells how a friend of hishad, through cowardice or carelessness, missed an opportunity ofputting him right on a point with which he was charged, and so left himdefenceless against a slander. With his native sweetness of soul, hecontents himself with the exclamation, "How rare it is to have a friendwho will defend you thoroughly and boldly!" Yet that is just one ofthe loyal things a friend can do, sometimes when it would be impossiblefor a man himself to do himself justice with others. Some things, needful to be said or done under certain circumstances, cannot beundertaken without indelicacy by the person concerned, and the keeninstinct of a friend should tell him that he is needed. A littlethoughtfulness would often suggest things that could be done for ourfriends, that would make them feel that the tie which binds us to themis a real one. That man is rich indeed, who possesses thoughtful, tactful friends, with whom he feels safe when present, and in whosehands his honor is secure when absent. If there be no loyalty, therecan be no great friendship. Most of our friendships lack thedistinction of greatness, because we are not ready for little acts ofservice. Without these our love dwindles down to a mere sentiment, andceases to be the inspiring force for good to both lives, which it wasat the beginning. 

The aid we may receive from friendship may be of an even more powerful, because of a more subtle, nature than material help. It may be asafeguard against temptation. The recollection of a friend whom weadmire is a great force to save us from evil, and to prompt us to good. The thought of his sorrow in any moral break-down of ours will oftennerve us to stand firm. What would my friend think of me, if I didthis, or consented to this meanness? Could I look him in the faceagain, and meet the calm pure gaze of his eye? Would it not be a bloton our friendship, and draw a veil over our intercourse? No friendshipis worth the name which does not elevate, and does not help to nobilityof conduct and to strength of character. It should give a new zest toduty, and a new inspiration to all that is good. 

Influence is the greatest of all human gifts, and we all have it insome measure. There are some to whom we are something, if noteverything. There are some, who are grappled to us with hoops ofsteel. There are some, over whom we have ascendency, or at least towhom we have access, who have opened the gates of the City of Mansoulto us, some we can sway with a word, a touch, a look. It must alwaysbe a solemn thing for a man to ask what he has done with this dreadpower of influence. For what has our friend to be indebted to us--forgood or for evil? Have we put on his armor, and sent him out withcourage and strength to the battle? Or have we dragged him down fromthe heights to which he once aspired? We are face to face here withthe tragic possibilities of human intercourse. In all friendship weopen the gates of the city, and those who have entered must be eitherallies in the fight, or treacherous foes. 

All the fruits of friendship, be they blessed or baneful, spring fromthis root of influence, and influence in the long run is the impress ofour real character on other lives. Influence cannot rise above thelevel of our lives. The result of our friendship on others willultimately be conditioned by the sort of persons we are. It adds avery sacred responsibility to life. Here, as in other regions, a goodtree bringeth forth good fruit, but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evilfruit. 

The Choice of Friendship

If thou findest a good man, rise up early in the morning to go to him, and let thy feet wear the steps of his door. 

THE APOCRYPHAL BOOK OF ECCLESIASTICUS. 

 Whereof the man, that with me trod This planet, was a noble type, Appearing ere the times were ripe, That friend of mine who lives with God. 

 TENNYSON. 

The Choice of Friendship

Our responsibility for our friendships is not confined to making surethat our influence over others is for good. We have also a duty toourselves. As we possess the gift of influence over others, so we inturn are affected by every life which touches ours. Influence is likean atmosphere exhaled by each separate personality. Some men seemneutral and colorless, with no atmosphere to speak of. Some have a badatmosphere, like the rank poisonous odor of noxious weeds, breedingmalaria. If our moral sense were only keen and true, we wouldinstinctively know them, as some children do, and dread their company. Others have a good atmosphere; we can breathe there in safety, and havea joyful sense of security. With some of these it is a local delicateenvironment, sweet, suggestive, like the aroma of wild violets: we haveto look, and sometimes to stoop, to get into its range. With some itis like a pine forest, or a eucalyptus grove of warmer climes, whichperfumes a whole country side. It is well to know such, Christ'slittle ones and Christ's great ones. They put oxygen into the moralatmosphere, and we breathe more freely for it. They give us newinsight, and fresh courage, and purer faith, and by the impulse oftheir example inspire us to nobler life. 

There is nothing so important as the choice of friendship; for it bothreflects character and affects it. A man is known by the company hekeeps. This is an infallible test; for his thoughts, and desires, andambitions, and loves are revealed here. He gravitates naturally to hiscongenial sphere. And it affects character; for it is the atmospherehe breathes. It enters his blood and makes the circuit of his veins. "All love assimilates to what it loves. " A man is moulded intolikeness of the lives that come nearest him. It is at the point of theemotions that he is most impressionable. The material surroundings, the outside lot of a man, affects him, but after all that is mostly onthe outside; for the higher functions of life may be served in almostany external circumstances. But the environment of other lives, thecommunion of other souls, are far more potent facts. The nearer peopleare to each other, and the less disguise there is in theirrelationship, the more invariably will the law of spiritual environmentact. 

It seems a tragedy that people, who see each other as they are, becomelike each other; and often it is a tragedy. But the law carries asmuch hope in it as despair. If through it evil works havoc, through italso good persists. If we are hindered by the weakness of ourassociates, we are often helped by their goodness and sweetness. Contact with a strong nature inspires us with strength. Some one onceasked Kingsley what was the secret of his strong joyous life, and heanswered, "I had a friend. " If every evil man is a centre ofcontagion, every good man is a centre of healing. He provides anenvironment in which others can see God. Goodness creates anatmosphere for other souls to be good. It is a priestly garment thathas virtue even for the finger that touches it. The earth has itssalt, and the world has its light, in the sweet souls, and winsomelives, and Christ-like characters to be found in it. The choice offriends is therefore one of the most serious affairs in life, justbecause a man becomes moulden into the likeness of what he loves in hisfriend. 

From the purely selfish standard, every fresh tie we form means givinga new hostage to fortune, and adding a new risk to our happiness. Apart from any moral evil, every intimacy is a danger of another blowto the heart. But if we desire fulness of life, we cannot helpourselves. A man may make many a friendship to his own hurt, but theisolated life is a greater danger still. _Societas est materdiscordiarum_, which Scott in his humorous pathetic account of thelaw-suits of Peter Peebles _versus_ Plainstanes in "Redgauntlet, "translates, Partnership oft makes pleaship. Every relationship meansrisk, but we must take the risk; for while nearly all our sorrows comefrom our connection with others, nearly all our joys have the samesource. We cannot help ourselves; for it is part of the greatdiscipline of life. Rather, we need knowledge, and care, andforethought to enable us to make the best use of the necessities of ournature. And foremost of these for importance is our choice of friends. 

We may err on the one side by being too cautious, and too exclusive inour attachments. We may be supercilious, and disdainful in ourestimate of men. Contempt always blinds the eyes. Every man isvulnerable somewhere, if only like Achilles in the heel. The truesecret of insight is not contempt, but sympathy. Such disdain usuallymeans putting all the eggs into one basket, when a smash spells ruin. 

The other extreme is the attitude, which easily makes many friends, without much consideration of quality. We know the type of man, who isfriendly with everybody, and a friend of none. He is Hail fellow wellmet! with every passing stranger, a boon companion of every wayfarer. He takes up with every sort of casual comrade, and seeks to be on goodterms with everybody. He makes what is called, with a little contempt, good company, and is a favorite on all light occasions. His affectionsspread themselves out over a large expanse. He is easily consoled fora loss, and easily attracted by a new attachment. And as he deals, sois he dealt with. Many like him; few quite trust him. He makes manyfriends, and is not particular about their quality. The law ofspiritual environment plays upon him with its relentless force. Hegives himself away too cheaply, and opens himself to all sorts ofinfluence. He is constantly laying himself in the way of temptation. His mind takes on the opinions of his set: his character assimilatesitself to the forces that act on it. The evil example of some of hisintimates gradually breaks down the barriers of past training andteaching. The desire to please a crowd means that principle is letslip, and conscience ceases to be the standard of action. His veryfriends are not true friends, being mostly of the fair-weather quality. 

Though it may seem difficult to avoid either of these two extremes, itwill not do to refuse to choose at all, and leave things to chance. Wedrift into many of our connections with men, but the art of seamanshipis tested by sailing not by drifting. The subject of the choice offriendship is not advanced much by just letting them choose us. Thatis to become the victim, not the master of our circumstances. Andwhile it is true that we are acted on as much as we act, and are chosenas much as we choose, it is not permitted to any one merely to bepassive, except at great cost. 

At the same time in the mystery of friendship we cannot say that wewent about with a touchstone testing all we met, till we found the orethat would respond to our particular magnet. It is not that we said toourselves, Go to, we will choose a friend, and straightway made adistinct election to the vacant throne of our heart. From one point ofview we were absolutely passive. Things arranged themselves withouteffort, and by some subtle affinity we learned that we had gained afriend. The history of every true friendship is the brief descriptionof Emerson, "My friends have come to me unsought; the great God gavethem to me. " There was an element of necessity in this, as in allcrises of life. 

Does it therefore seem absurd and useless to speak about the choice offriendship at all? By no means, because the principles we set beforeourselves will determine the kind of friends we have, as truly as ifthe whole initiative lay with us. We are chosen for the same reasonfor which we would choose. To try to separate the two processes is tomake the same futile distinction, on a lower scale, so often madebetween choosing God and being chosen by Him. It is futile, becausethe distinction cannot be maintained. 

Besides, the value of having some definite principle by which to testfriendship is not confined to the positive attachments made. Thenecessity for a system of selection is largely due to the necessity forrejection. The good and great intimacies of our life will perhaps cometo us, as the wind bloweth, we cannot tell how. But by regulating ourcourse wisely, we will escape from hampering our life by mistakes, andweakening it with false connections. We ought to be courteous, andkind, and gentle with all, but not to all can we open the sanctuary ofour heart. 

We have a graduated scale of intimacy, from introduction, and noddingacquaintance, and speaking acquaintance, through an endless series ofkinds of intercourse to the perfect friendship. In counting up ourgains and our resources, we cannot give them all the same value, without deceiving ourselves. To expect loyalty and devotion from allalike is to court disappointment. Most misanthropical and cynicalestimates of man are due to this mingled ignorance and conceit. Wecannot look for undying affection from the crowd we may happen to haveentertained to dinner, or have rubbed shoulders with at businessresorts or at social gatherings. Many men in life, as many aredepicted in literature, have played the misanthrope, because they havediscovered through adversity how many of their associates werefair-weather friends. In their prosperity they encouraged toadying andsycophancy. They liked to have hangers-on, who would flatter, and whenthe east wind blows they are indignant that their circle should preferto avoid it. 

Shakespeare's Timon of Athens is a typical misanthrope in his virtuousindignation at the cat-like love of men for comfort. In his prosperitycrowds of glass-faced flatterers bent before him, and were made rich inTimon's nod. He wasted his substance in presents and hospitality, andbred a fine race of parasites and trencher-friends. When he spent alland began to be in want, no man gave unto him. The winter shower droveaway the summer flies. He had loved the reputation for splendidliberality, and lavish generosity, and had sought to be a little godamong men, bestowing favors and receiving homage, all of which was onlya more subtle form of selfishness. When the brief day of prosperitypassed, men shut their doors against the setting sun. The smooth andsmilling crowd dropped off with a shrug, and Timon went to the otherextreme of misanthropy, declaimed against friendship, and cursed menfor their ingratitude. But after all he got what he had paid for. Hethought he had been buying the hearts of men, and found that he hadonly bought their mouths, and tongues, and eyes. 

"He that loves to be flattered is worthy of the flatterer. " For moralvalue there is not much to choose between them. Rats are said todesert the sinking ship, which is not to be wondered at in rats. Thechoice of friendship does not mean the indiscriminate acceptance of allwho are willing to assume the name of friend. A touch of east wind isgood, not only to weed out the false and test the true, but also tobrace a man to the stern realities of life. When we find that some ofour intimates are dispersed by adversity, instead of raving against theworld's ingratitude like Timon, we should be glad that now we know whomexactly we can trust. 

Another common way of choosing friends, and one which also meets withits own fitting reward, is the selfish method of valuing men accordingto their usefulness to us. To add to their credit, or reputation, someare willing to include anybody in their list of intimates. Forbusiness purposes even, men will sometimes run risks, by endangeringthe peace of their home and the highest interests of those they love;they are ready to introduce into their family circle men whom theydistrust morally, because they think they can make some gain out of theconnection. 

All the stupid snobbishness, and mean tuft-hunting so common, are dueto the same desire to make use of people in some way or other. It isan abuse of the word friendship to apply it to such social scrambling. Of course, even tuft-hunting may be only a perverted desire after whatwe think the best, a longing to get near those we consider of noblernature and larger mind than common associates. It may be aninstinctive agreement with Plato's definition of the wise man, as everwanting to be with him who is better than himself. But in its usualform it becomes an unspeakable degradation, inducing servility, andlick-spittle humility, and all the vices of the servile mind. Therecan never be true friendship without self-respect, and unless soulmeets soul free from self-seeking. If we had higher standards forourselves, if we lived to God and not to men, we would also find thatin the truest sense we would live with men. We need not go out of ourway to ingratiate ourselves with anybody. Nothing can make up for theloss of independence and native dignity of soul. It is not for a man, made in the image of God, to grovel, and demean himself before hisfellow creatures. 

After all it defeats itself; for there can only be friendship _betweenequals_. This does not mean equals in what is called social position, nor even in intellectual attainments, though these naturally haveweight, but it means equality which has a spiritual source. Can twowalk together, except they be agreed? Nor does it mean identity, noreven likeness. Indeed, for the highest unity there must be difference, the difference of free beings, with will, and conscience, and mindunhampered. We often make much of our differences, forgetting thatreally we differ, and _can_ differ, only because we agree. Withoutmany points of contact, there could be no divergence from these. Argument and contradiction of opinion are the outcome of difference, and yet for argument there is needed a common basis. We cannot evendiscuss, unless we meet on some mental ground common to bothdisputants. So there may be, nay, for the highest union there must be, a great general conformity behind the distinctions, a deep underlyingcommon basis beneath the unlikeness. And for true union of hearts, this equality must have a spiritual source. If then there must be somespiritual affinity, agreement in what is best and highest in each, wecan see the futility of most of the selfish attempts to make capitalout of our intercourse. Our friends will be, because they must be, ourequals. We can never have a nobler intimacy, until we are made fit forit. 

All connections based on selfishness, either on personal pleasure or onusefulness, are accidental. They are easily dissolved, because, whenthe pleasure or the utility ceases, the bond ceases. When the motiveof the friendship is removed, the friendship itself disappears. Theperfect friendship is grounded on what is permanent, on goodness, oncharacter. It is of much slower growth, since it takes some time toreally find out the truly lovable things in a life, but it is lasting, since the foundation is stable. 

The most important point, then, about the choice of friendship is thatwe should know what to reject. Countless attractions come to us on thelower plane. A man may be attracted by what his own conscience tellshim to be unworthy. He may have slipped gradually into companionshipwith some, whose influence is even evil. He may have got, almostwithout his own will, into a set which is deteriorating his life andcharacter. He knows the fruits of his weakness, in the lowering of themoral tone, in the slackening grip of the conscience, in the looserflow of the blood. He has become pliant in will, feeble in purpose, and flaccid in character. Every man has a duty to himself to be hisown best self, and he can never be that under the spell of evilcompanionship. 

Some men mix in doubtful company, and say that they have no Pharisaicexclusiveness, and even sometimes defend themselves by Christ'sexample, who received sinners and ate with them. The comparisonborders on blasphemy. It depends on the purpose, for which sinners arereceived. Christ never joined in their sin, but went to save them fromtheir sin; and wickedness could not lift its head in His presence. Some seek to be initiated into the mysteries of iniquity, in idle ormorbid curiosity, perhaps to write a realistic book, or to see life, asit is called. There is often a prurient desire to explore the tractsof sin, as if information on such subjects meant wisdom. If men arehonest with themselves, they will admit that they join the company ofsinners, for the relish they have for the sin. We must first obey themoral command to come out from among them and be separate, before it ispossible for us to meet them like Christ. Separateness of soul is thelaw of holiness. Of Christ, of whom it was said that this manreceiveth sinners, it was also said that He was separate from sinners. The knowledge of wickedness is not wisdom, neither is the counsel ofsinners prudence. Most young men know the temptation here referred to, the curiosity to learn the hidden things, and to have the air of thosewho know the world. 

If we have gone wrong here, and have admitted into the sanctuary of ourlives influences that make for evil, we must break away from them atall costs. The sweeter and truer relationships of our life should armus for the struggle, the prayers of a mother, the sorrow of truefriends. This is the fear, countless times, in the hearts of the folksat home when their boy leaves them to win his way in the city, thedeadly fear lest he should fall into evil habits, and into the clutchesof evil men. They know that there are men whose touch, whose words, whose very look, is contamination. To give them entrance into ourlives is to submit ourselves to the contagion of sin. 

Friends should be chosen by a higher principle of selection than anyworldly one, of pleasure, or usefulness, or by weak submission to theevil influences of our lot. They should be chosen for character, forgoodness, for truth and trustworthiness, because they have sympathywith us in our best thoughts and holiest aspirations, because they havecommunity of mind in the things of the soul. All other connections arefleeting and imperfect from the nature of the case. A relationshipbased on the physical withers when the first bloom fades: arelationship founded on the intellectual is only a little more secure, as it too is subject to caprice. All purely earthly partnerships, likeall earthly treasures, are exposed to decay, the bite of the moth andthe stain of the rust; and they must all have an end. 

A young man may get opposing advice from two equally trustedcounsellors. One will advise him to cultivate the friendship of theclever, because they will afterward occupy places of power in theworld: the other will advise him to cultivate the friendship of thegood, because if they do not inherit the earth, they aspire to theheavens. If he knows the character of the two counsellors, he willunderstand why they should look upon life from such differentstandpoints; and later on he will find that while some of his friendswere both clever and good, not one of the purely intellectualfriendships remains to him. It does not afford a sufficient basis ofagreement, to stand the tear and wear of life. The basis of friendshipmust be community of soul. 

The only permanent severance of heart comes through lack of a commonspiritual footing. If one soul goes up the mountain top, and the otherstays down among the shadows, if the two have not the same highthoughts, and pure desires, and ideals of service, they cannot remaintogether except in form. Friends need not be identical in temperamentand capacity, but they must be alike in sympathy. An unequal yokebecomes either an intolerable burden, or will drag one of the partnersaway from the path his soul at its best would have loved to tread. 

 If you loved only what were worth your love, Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you. 

If we choose our friends in Christ, neither here, nor ever, need wefear parting, and will have the secure joy and peace which come fromhaving a friend who is as one's own soul. 

The Eclipse of Friendship

 For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his pew. 

 * * * * * *

 Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead. Sunk though he be beneath the watery flow. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves. 

 MILTON. 

The Eclipse of Friendship

As it is one of the greatest joys of life when a kindred soul is forthe first time recognized and claimed, so it is one of the bitterestmoments of life when the first rupture is made of the ties which bindus to other lives. Before it comes, it is hard to believe that it ispossible, if we ever think of it at all. When it does come, it isharder still to understand the meaning of the blow. The miracle offriendship seemed too fair, to carry in its bosom the menace of itsloss. We knew, of course, that such things had been, and must be, butwe never quite realized what it would be to be the victims of thecommon doom of man. 

If it only came as a sudden pain, that passes after its brief spasm ofagony, it would not be so sore an affliction; but when it comes, itcomes to stay. There remains a place in our hearts which is tender toevery touch, and it is touched so often. We survive the shock of themoment easier than the constant reminder of our loss. The old familiarface, debarred to the sense of sight, can be recalled by a stray word, a casual sight, a chance memory. The closer the intercourse had been, the more things there are in our lives associated with him--things thatwe did together, places that we visited together, thoughts even that wethought together. 

There seems no region of life where we can escape from the suggestionsof memory. The sight of any little object can bring him back, with hisway of speaking, with his tricks of gesture, with all the qualities forwhich we loved him, and for which we mourn him now. If the intimacywas due to mere physical proximity, the loss will be only a vague senseof uneasiness through the breakdown of long-continued habit; but, ifthe two lives were woven into the same web, there must be ragged edgesleft, and it is a weary task to take up the threads again, and find anew woof for the warp. The closer the connection has been, the keeneris the loss. It comes back to us at the sight of the many thingsassociated with him, and, fill up our lives with countless distractionsas we may, the shadow creeps back to darken the world. 

Sometimes there is the added pain of remorse that we did not enoughappreciate the treasure we possessed. In thoughtlessness we acceptedthe gift; we had so little idea of the true value of his friendship; weloved so little, and were so impatient:--if only we had him back again;if only we had one more opportunity to show him how dear he was; ifonly we had another chance of proving ourselves worthy. We can hardlyforgive ourselves that we were so cold and selfish. Self-reproach, theregret of the unaccepted opportunity, is one of the commonest feelingsafter bereavement, and it is one of the most blessed. 

Still, it may become a morbid feeling. It is a false sentimentalismwhich lives in the past, and lavishes its tenderness on memory. It isdifficult to say what is the dividing line between healthy sorrow andmorbid sentiment. It seems a natural instinct, which makes thebereaved care lovingly for the very grave, and which makes the motherkeep locked up the little shoes worn by the little feet, relics hidfrom the vulgar eye. The instinct has become a little more morbid, when it has preserved the room of a dead mother, with its pettydecorations and ornaments as she left them. Beautiful as the instinctmay be, there is nothing so dangerous as when our most natural feelingturns morbid. 

It is always a temptation, which grows stronger the longer we live, tolook back instead of forward, to bemoan the past, and thus deride thepresent and distrust the future. We must not forget our presentblessings, the love we still possess, the gracious influences thatremain, and most of all the duties that claim our strength. The lovingwomen who went early in the morning to the sepulchre of the buriedChrist were met with a rebuke, "Why seek ye the living among the dead?"They were sent back to life to find Him, and sent back to life to dohonor to His death. Not by ointments and spices, however precious, norat the rock-hewn tomb, could they best remember their Lord; but out inthe world, which that morning had seemed so cold and cheerless, and intheir lives, which then had seemed not worth living. 

Christianity does not condemn any natural human feeling, but it willnot let these interfere with present duty and destroy futureusefulness. It does not send men to search for the purpose of livingin the graves of their dead hopes and pleasures. Its disciples mustnot attempt to live on the relics of even great incidents, amongcrucifixes and tombs. In the Desert, the heart must reach forward tothe Promised Land, and not back to Egypt. The Christian faith is forthe future, because it believes in the God of the future. The world isnot a lumber room, full of relics and remembrances, over which tobrood. We are asked to remember the beautiful past which was ours, andthe beautiful lives which we have lost, by making the present beautifullike it, and our lives beautiful like theirs. It is human to thinkthat life has no future, if now it seems "dark with griefs and graves. "It comes like a shock to find that we must bury our sorrow, and comeinto contact with the hard world again, and live our common life oncemore. The Christian learns to do it, not because he has a shortmemory, but because he has a long faith. The voice of inspiration isheard oftener through the realities of life, than through vain regretsand recluse dreams. The Christian life must be in its degree somethinglike the Master's own life, luminous with His hope, and surrounded by abracing atmosphere which uplifts all who even touch its outer fringe. 

The great fact of life, nevertheless, is death, and it must have apurpose to serve and a lesson to teach. It seems to lose something ofits impressiveness, because it is universal. The very inevitablenessof it seems to kill thought, rather than induce it. It is only whenthe blow strikes home, that we are pulled up and forced to face thefact. Theoretically there is a wonderful unanimity among men, regarding the shortness of life and the uncertainty of all humanrelationships. The last word of the wise on life has ever been itsfleetingness, its appalling changes, its unexpected surprises. Theonly certainty of life is its uncertainty--its unstable tenure, itsinevitable end. But practically we go on as if we could lay our plans, and mortgage time, without doubt or danger; until our feet are knockedfrom under us by some sudden shock, and we realize how unstable theequilibrium of life really is. The lesson of life is death. 

The experience would not be so tragically universal, if it had not agood and necessary meaning. For one thing it should sober us, and makeour lives full of serious, solemn purpose. It should teach us tonumber our days that we may apply our hearts to wisdom. The man, whohas no place for death in his philosophy, has not learned to live. Thelesson of death is life. 

On the whole, however, it is not our own liability to death whichoppresses us. The fear of it to a brave man, not to speak of a man offaith, can be overcome. It is the fear of it _for others_ whom welove, which is its sting. And none of us can live very long withoutknowing in our own heart's experience the reality, as well as theterror, of death. This too has its meaning for us, to look at lifemore tenderly, and touch it more gently. The pathos of life is only aforced sentiment to us, if we have not felt the pity of life. To asensitive soul, smarting with his own loss, the world sometimes seemsfull of graves, and for a time at least makes him walk softly among men. 

This is one reason why the making of new friends is so much easier inyouth than later on. Friendship comes to youth seemingly without anyconditions, and without any fears. There is no past to look back at, with much regret and some sorrow. We never look behind us, _till wemiss something_. Youth is satisfied with the joy of presentpossession. To the young friendship comes as the glory of spring, avery miracle of beauty, a mystery of birth: to the old it has the bloomof autumn, beautiful still, but with the beauty of decay. To the youngit is chiefly hope: to the old it is mostly memory. The man who isconscious that he has lost the best of his days, the best of hispowers, the best of his friends, naturally lives a good deal in thepast. 

Such a man is prepared for further losses; he has adjusted himself tothe fact of death. At first, we cannot believe that it can happen tous and to our love; or, if the thought comes to us, it is an event toofar in the future to ruffle the calm surface of our heart. And yet, itmust come; from it none can escape. Most can remember a night ofwaiting, too stricken for prayer, too numb of heart even for feeling, vaguely expecting the blow to strike us out of the dark. A strangesense of the unreality of things came over us, when the black wavesubmerged us and passed on. We went out into the sunshine, and itseemed to mock us. We entered again among the busy ways of men, andthe roar of life beat upon our brain and heart, Yet in these ears, till hearing dies, One set slow bell will seem to toll, The passing of the sweetest soul That ever looked with human eyes. 

Was it worth while to have linked our lives on to other lives, and laidourselves open to such desolation? Would it not be better to gothrough the world, without joining ourselves too closely to thefleeting bonds of other loves? Why deliberately add to ourdisabilities? But it is not a disability; rather, the great purpose ofall our living is to learn love, even though we must experience thepains of love as well as the joys. To cut ourselves off from this lotof the human would be to impoverish our lives, and deprive ourselves ofthe culture of the heart, which, if a man has not learned, he haslearned nothing. Whatever the risks to our happiness, we cannot standout from the lot of man, without ceasing to be men in the only truesense. 

It is not easy to solve the problem of sorrow. Indeed there is nosolution of it, unless the individual soul works out its own solution. Most attempts at a philosophy of sorrow just end in high-soundingwords. Explanations, which profess to cover all the ground, are asfutile as the ordinary blundering attempts at comfort, which only charmache with sound and patch grief with proverbs. The sorrow of ourhearts is not appreciably lessened by argument. Any kind ofphilosophy--any wordy explanation of the problem--is at the best poorcomfort. It is not the problem which brings the pain in the firstinstance: it is the pain which brings the problem. The heart'sbitterness is not allayed by an exposition of the doctrine ofprovidence. Rachel who weeps for her children, the father whose littledaughter lies dead at home, are not to be appeased in their anguish bya nicely-balanced system of thought. Nor is surcease of sorrow thusbrought to the man to whom has come a bereavement, or a succession ofbereavements, which makes him feel that all the glory and joy of life, its friendship and love and hope, have gone down into the grave, sothat he can say, Three dead men have I loved, And thou wert last of the three. 

At the same time, if it be true that there is a meaning in friendship, a spiritual discipline to educate the heart and train the life, it mustalso be true that there is equally a meaning in the eclipse offriendship. If we have enough faith to see death to be good, we willfind out for ourselves why it is good. It may teach us just what wewere in danger of forgetting, some omission in our lives, which wasmaking them shallow and poor. It may be to one a sight into themystery of sin; to another a sight into the mystery of love. To one itcomes with the lesson of patience, which is only a side of the lessonof faith; to another it brings the message of sympathy. As we turn thesubject toward the light, there come gleams of color from differentfacets of it. 

All life is an argument for death. We cannot persist long in theeffort to live the Christian life, without feeling the need for death. The higher the aims, and the truer the aspirations, the greater is theburden of living, until it would become intolerable. Sooner or laterwe are forced to make the confession of Job, "I would not live alway. "To live forever in this sordidness, to have no reprieve from the doomof sin, no truce from the struggle of sin, would be a fearful fate. 

To the Christian, therefore, death cannot be looked on as evil; first, because it is universal, and it is universal because it isGod-ordained. In St. Peter's, at Rome, there are many tombs, in whichdeath is symbolized in its traditional form as a skeleton, with thefateful hourglass and the fearful scythe. Death is the rude reaper, who cruelly cuts off life and all the joy of life. But there is one inwhich death is sculptured as a sweet gentle motherly woman, who takesher wearied child home to safer and surer keeping. It is a truerthought than the other. Death is a minister of God, doing Hispleasure, and doing us good. 

Again, it cannot be evil because it means a fuller life, and thereforean opportunity for fuller and further service. Faith will not let aman hasten the climax; for it is in the hands of love, as he himselfis. But death is the climax of life. For if all life is an argumentfor death, then so also all death is an argument for life. 

Jowett says, in one of his letters, "I cannot sympathize in all thegrounds of consolation that are sometimes offered on these melancholyoccasions, but there are two things which have always seemed to meunchangeable: first, that the dead are in the hands of God, who can dofor them more than we can ask or have; and secondly, with respect toourselves, that such losses deepen our views of life, and make us feelthat we would not always be here. " These are two noble grounds ofconsolation, and they are enough. 

Death is the great argument for immortality. We cannot believe thatthe living, loving soul has ceased to be. We cannot believe that allthose treasures of mind and heart are squandered in empty air. We willnot believe it. When once we understand the meaning of the spiritual, we see the absolute certainty of eternal life; we need no arguments forthe persistence of being. 

To appear for a little time and then vanish away, is the outwardbiography of all men, a circle of smoke that breaks, a bubble on thestream that bursts, a spark put out by a breath. 

But there is another biography, a deeper and a permanent one, thebiography of the soul. Everything that _appears_ vanishes away: thatis its fate, the fate of the everlasting hills as well as of the vaporthat caps them. But that which does not appear, the spiritual andunseen, which we in our folly sometimes doubt because it does notappear, is the only reality; it is eternal and passeth not away. Thematerial in nature is only the garb of the spiritual, as speech is theclothing of thought. With our vulgar standards we often think of thethought as the unsubstantial and the shadowy, and the speech as thereal. But speech dies upon the passing wind; the thought aloneremains. We consider the sound to be the music, whereas it is only theexpression of the music, and vanishes away. Behind the material world, which waxes old as a garment, there is an eternal principle, thethought of God it represents. Above the sounds there is the music thatcan never die. Beneath our lives, which vanish away, there is a vitalthing, spirit. We cannot locate it and put our finger on it; that iswhy it is permanent. The things we can put our finger on are thethings which appear, and therefore which fade and die. 

So, death to the spiritual mind is only _eclipse_. When there is aneclipse of the sun it does not mean that the sun is blotted out of theheavens: it only means that there is a temporary obstruction between itand us. If we wait a little, it passes. Love cannot die. Its formsmay change, even its objects, but its life is the life of the universe. It is not death, but sleep: not loss, but eclipse. The love is onlytransfigured into something more ethereal and heavenly than everbefore. Happy to have friends on earth, but happier to have friends inheaven. 

And it need not be even eclipse, except in outward form. Communionwith the unseen can mean true correspondence with all we have loved andlost, if only our souls were responsive. The highest love is notstarved by the absence of its object; it rather becomes more tender andspiritual, with more of the ideal in it. Ordinary affection, on alower plane, dependent on physical attraction, or on the earthly sideof life, naturally crumbles to dust when its foundation is removed. But love is independent of time or space, and as a matter of fact ispurified and intensified by absence. Separation of friends is not aphysical thing. Lives can be sundered as if divided by infinitedistance, even although materially they are near each other. Thistragedy is often enough enacted in our midst. 

The converse is also true; so that friendship does not really lose bydeath: it lays up treasure in heaven, and leaves the very earth asacred place, made holy by happy memories. "The ruins of Time buildmansions in Eternity, " said William Blake, speaking of the death of aloved brother, with whose spirit he never ceased to converse. Thereare people in our homes and our streets whose highest life is with thedead. They live in another world. We can see in their eyes that theirhearts are not here. It is as if they already saw the land that isvery far off. It is only far off to our gross insensate senses. 

The spiritual world is not outside this earth of ours. It includes itand pervades it, finding a new centre for a new circumference in everyloving soul that has eyes to see the Kingdom. So, to hold commercewith the dead is not a mere figure of speech. Heaven lies about us notonly in our infancy, but all our lives. We blind ourselves with dust, and in our blindness lay hold feverishly of the outside of life, mistaking the fugitive and evanescent for the truly permanent. If weonly used our capacities we would take a more enlightened view ofdeath. We would see it to be the entrance into a more radiant and amore abundant life not only for the friend that goes first, but for theother left behind. 

Spiritual communion cannot possibly be interrupted by a physicalchange. It is because there is so little of the spiritual in ourordinary intercourse that death means silence and an end to communion. There is a picture of death, which, when looked at with the ordinaryperspective, seems to be a hideous skull, but when seen near at hand iscomposed of flowers, with the eyes, in the seemingly empty sockets ofthe skull, formed by two fair faces of children. Death at a distancelooks horrible, the ghastly spectre of the race; but with the nearvision it is beautiful with youth and flowers, and when we look intoits eyes we look into the stirrings of life. 

Love is the only permanent relationship among men, and the permanenceis not an accident of it, but is of its very essence. When releasedfrom the mere magnetism of sense, instead of ceasing to exist, it onlythen truly comes into its largest life. If our life were more a lifein the spirit, we would be sure that death can be at the worst but theeclipse of friendship. Tennyson felt this truth in his own experience, and expressed it in noble form again and again in _In Memoriam_--

 Sweet human hand and lips and eye, Dear heavenly friend that canst not die;

 Strange friend, past, present, and to be; Loved deeplier, darklier understood; Behold I dream a dream of good, And mingle all the world with thee. 

 Thy voice is on the rolling air; I hear thee where the waters run; Thou standest in the rising sun, And in the setting thou art fair. 

It is not loss, but momentary eclipse, and the final issue is a clearerperception of immortal love, and a deeper consciousness of eternal life. 

The attitude of mind, therefore, in any such bereavement--sore as thefirst stroke must be, since we are so much the creatures of habit, andit is hard to adjust ourselves to the new relationship--cannot be anattitude merely of resignation. That was the extent to which theimperfect revelation of the Old Testament brought men. They had torest in their knowledge of God's faithfulness and goodness. The limitof their faith was, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away. " Butto resignation we can add joy. "Not dead, but sleepeth, " said theMaster of death and life to a sorrowing man. 

For one thing it must mean the hallowing of memory. The eclipse oflove makes the love fairer when the eclipse passes. The loss of theoutward purifies the affection and softens the heart. It brings outinto fact what was often only latent in feeling. Memory adds a tenderglory to the past. We only think of the virtues of the dead: we forgettheir faults. This is as it should be. We rightly love the immortalpart of them; the fire has burned up the dross and left pure gold. Ifit is idealization, it represents that which will be, and that whichreally is. 

We do not ask to forget; we do not want the so-called consolationswhich time brings. Such an insult to the past, as forgetfulness wouldbe, means that we have not risen to the possibilities of communion ofspirit afforded us in the present. We would rather that the woundshould be ever fresh than that the image of the dear past should fade. It would be a loss to our best life if it would fade. There is nosting in such a faith. Such remembrance as this, which keeps the heartgreen, will not cumber the life. True sentiment does not weaken, butbecomes an inspiration to make our life worthy of our love. It cansave even a squalid lot from sordidness; for however poor we may be inthe world's goods, we are rich in happy associations in the past, andin sweet communion in the present, and in blessed hope for the future. 

The Wreck of Friendship

 They parted--ne'er to meet again! But never either found another To free the hollow heart from paining-- They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs which had been rent asunder, A dreary sea now rolls between; But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween, The marks of that which once hath been. 

 COLERIDGE, Christabel. 

The Wreck of Friendship

The eclipse of friendship through death is not nearly so sad as themany ways in which friendship may be wrecked. There are worse lossesthan the losses of death; and to bury a friendship is a keener griefthan to bury a friend. The latter softens the heart and sweetens thelife, while the former hardens and embitters. The Persian poet Hafizsays, "Thou learnest no secret until thou knowest friendship; since tothe unloving no heavenly knowledge enters. " But so imperfect are ourhuman relationships, that many a man has felt that he has bought hisknowledge too dearly. Few of us go through the world without somescars on the heart, which even yet throb if the finger of memory touchthem. In spite of all that has been said, and may be said in praise ofthis golden friendship, it has been too often found how vain is thehelp of man. The deepest tragedies of life have been the failure ofthis very relationship. 

In one way or other the loss of friendship comes to all. The shores oflife are strewn with wrecks. The convoy which left the harbor gaily inthe sunshine cannot all expect to arrive together in the haven. Thereare the danger of storms and collisions, the separation of the night, and even at the best, if accidents never occur, the whole companycannot all keep up with the speed of the swiftest. 

There is a certain pathos in all loss, but there is not always pain init, or at least it is of varied quality and extent. Some losses arenatural and unavoidable, quite beyond our control, the result ofresistless change. Some loss is even the necessary accompaniment ofgain. The loss of youth with all its possessions is the gain ofmanhood and womanhood. A man must put away childish things, the speechand understanding and thought of a child. So the loss of somefriendship comes as a part of the natural course of things, and isaccepted without mutilating the life. 

Many of our connections with people are admittedly casual andtemporary. They exist for mutual convenience through common interestat the time, or common purpose, or common business. None of thepartners asks for more than the advantage each derives from theconnection. When it comes to an end, we let slip the cable easily, andsay good-bye with a cheery wave. With many people we meet and part inall friendliness and good feeling, and will be glad to meet again, butthe parting does not tear our affections by the roots. When thebusiness is transacted the tie is loosed, and we each go our separateways without much regret. 

At other times there is no thought of gain, except the mutual advantageof conversation or companionship. We are pleasant to each other, andenjoy the intercourse of kindred tastes. Most of us have some pleasantrecollections of happy meetings with interesting people, perhaps onholiday times, when we felt we would be glad to see them again iffortune turned round the wheel again to the same place; but, thoughhardly ever did it come about that an opportunity of meeting hasoccurred, we do not feel that our life is much the poorer for the loss. 

Also, we _grow_ out of some of our friendships. This is to beexpected, since so many of them are formed thoughtlessly, or before wereally knew either ourselves or our friends. They never meant verymuch to us. Most boyish friendships as a rule do not last long, because they are not based on the qualities which wear well. Schoolboycomradeships are usually due to propinquity rather than to character. They are the fruit of accident rather than of affinity of soul. Boysgrow out of these as they grow out of their clothes. Now and againthey suffer from growing pains, but it is more discomfort than anythingelse. 

It is sad to look back and realize how few of one's earlycompanionships remain, but it is not possible to blame either party forthe loss. Distance, separation of interest, difference of work, alloperate to divide. When athletics seemed the end of existence, friendship was based on football and baseball. But as life opens out, other standards are set up, and a new principle of selection takes itsplace. When the world is seen to be more than a ball-ground, when itis recognized to be a stage oh which men play many parts, a new sort ofintimacy is demanded, and it does not follow that it will be with thesame persons. Such loss as this is the condition which accompanies thegain of growth. 

There is more chance for the permanence of friendships formed a littlelater. It must not be too long after this period, however; for, whenthe generous time of youth has wholly passed, it becomes hard to makenew connections. Men get over-burdened with cares and personalconcerns, and grow cautious about making advances. In youth the heartis responsive and ready to be generous, and the hand aches for thegrasp of a comrade's hand, and the mind demands fellowship in the greatthoughts that are beginning to dawn upon it. The closest friendshipsare formed early in life, just because then we are less cautious, moreopen to impressions, and readier to welcome self-revelations. Aftermiddle life a man does not find it easy to give himself away, and keepsa firmer hand on his feelings. Whatever are the faults of youth, it isunworldly in its estimates as a rule, and uncalculating in its thoughtsof the future. 

The danger to such friendship is the danger of just letting it lapse. As life spreads out before the eager feet, new interests crop up, newrelations are formed, and the old tie gets worn away, from want ofadding fresh strands to it. We may believe the advice about notforsaking an old friend because the new is not comparable to him, butwe can neglect it by merely letting things slip past, which if usedwould be a new bond of union. 

As it is easier for some temperaments to make friends, it is easier forsome dispositions to keep them. Little faults of manner, littleoccasions of thoughtlessness, or lack of the little courtesies, do moreto separate people than glaring mistakes. There are some men so builtthat it is difficult to remain on very close terms with them, there areso many corners to knock against. Even strength of character, ifunmodified by sweetness of disposition, adds to the difficulty ofpulling together. Strong will can so easily develop into self-will;decision can become dogmatism; wit, the salt of conversation, loses itssavor when it becomes ill-natured; a faculty for argument is in dangerof being mere quarrelsomeness. 

The ordinary amenities of life must be preserved among friends. We cannever feel very safe with the man whose humor tends to bitter speakingor keen sarcasm, or with the man who flares up into hasty speech atevery or no provocation, or with the man who is argumentative andassertive, --

 Who 'd rather on a gibbet dangle Than miss his dear delight to wrangle. 

There are more breaches of the peace among friends through sins ofspeech, than from any other cause. We do not treat our friends withenough respect. We make the vulgar mistake of looking upon the commonas if it were therefore cheap in nature. We ought rather to treat ourfriend with a sort of sacred familiarity, as if we appreciated theprecious gift his friendship is. 

Every change in a man's life brings a risk of letting go something ofthe past, which it is a loss to part with. A change of work, or achange of residence, or entrance into a larger sphere, brings a certainengrossment which leads to neglect of the richest intercourse in thepast life. To many a man, even marriage has had a drop of bitternessin it, because it has somehow meant the severing of old and sacredlinks. This may be due to the vulgar reason of wives' quarrels, theresult of petty jealousy; but it may be due also to pre-occupation anda subtle form of selfishness. The fire needs to be kept alive withfuel. To preserve it, there must be forethought, and care, and loveexpended as before. 

Friendship may lapse through the _misfortune of distance_. Absencedoes not always make the heart grow fonder. It only does so, when theheart is securely fixed, and when it is a heart worth fixing. Moreoften the other proverb is truer, that it is out of sight out of mind. It is so easy for a man to become self-centred, and to impoverish hisaffections through sheer neglect. Ties once close get frayed andstrained till they break, and we discover that we have said farewell tothe past. Some kind of intercourse is needed to maintain friendship. There is a pathos about this gradual drifting away of lives, borne fromeach other, it sometimes seems, by opposing tides, as if a resistlesspower separated them, And bade betwixt their souls to be The unplumbed, salt, estranging sea. 

Or friendship may lapse through the _fault of silence_. The misfortuneof distance may be overcome by love, but the fault of silence crushesout feeling as the falling rain kills the kindling beacon. Even theestrangements and misunderstandings which will arise to all could notlong remain, where there is a frank and candid interchange of thought. Hearts grow cold toward each other through neglect. There is asuggestive word from the old Scandinavian _Edda_, "Go often to thehouse of thy friend; for weeds soon choke up the unused path. " It ishard to overcome again the alienation caused by neglect; for theregrows up a sense of resentment and injured feeling. 

Among the petty things which wreck friendships, none is so common andso unworthy as money. It is pitiable that it should be so. Thackerayspeaks of the remarkable way in which a five-pound note will break up ahalf-century's attachment between two brethren, and it is a commoncynical remark of the world that the way to lose a friend is to lendhim money. There is nothing which seems to affect the mind more, andcolor the very heart's blood, than money. There seems a curse in itsometimes, so potent is it for mischief. Poverty, if it be toooppressive grinding down the face, may often hurt the heart-life; butperhaps oftener still it only reveals what true treasures there are inthe wealth of the affections. Whereas, we know what heartburnings, andrivalries, and envyings, are occasioned by this golden apple ofdiscord. Most of the disputes which separate brethren are about thedividing of the inheritance, and it does seem to be the case that fewfriendships can survive the test of money. 

 Neither a borrower, nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend. 

There must be something wrong with the friendship which so breaks down. It ought to be able to stand a severer strain than that. But the innerreason of the failure is often that there has been a moral degeneracygoing on, and a weakening of the fibre of character on one side, or onboth sides. The particular dispute, whether it be about money or aboutanything else, is only the occasion which reveals the slackening of themorale. The innate delicacy and self-respect of the friend who asksthe favor may have been damaged through a series of similarimportunities, or there may have been a growing hardness of heart andselfishness in the friend who refuses the request. Otherwise, if twoare on terms of communion, it is hard to see why the giving orreceiving of this service should be any more unworthy than any otherhelp, which friends can grant to each other. True commerce of theheart should make all other needful commerce possible. Communionincludes communism. To have things in common does not seem difficult, when there is love in common. 

Friendship has also been wrecked by outside means, by the evil ofothers, through the evil speaking, or the envy, or the whisperingtongues that delight in scandal. Some mean natures rejoice in sowingdiscord, carrying tales with just the slightest turn of a phrase, oreven a tone of the voice, which gives a sinister reading to an innocentword or act. Frankness can always prevent such from permanentlywrecking friendship. Besides, we should judge no man, still less atrusted friend, by a report of an incident or a hasty word. We shouldjudge our friend by his record, by what we know of his character. Whenanything inconsistent with that character comes before our notice, itis only justice to him to at least suspend judgment, and it would bewisdom to refuse to credit it at all. 

We sometimes wonder to find a friend cold and distant to us, andperhaps we moralize on the fickleness and inconstancy of men, but thereason may be to seek in ourselves. We cannot expect the pleasure offriendship without the duty, the privilege without the responsibility. We cannot break off the threads of the web, and then, when the mood ison us, continue it as though nothing had happened. If such a breakagehas occurred, we must go back and patiently join the threads togetheragain. Thoughtlessness has done more harm in this respect thanill-will. If we have lost a friend through selfish neglect, the lossis ours, and we cannot expect to take up the story where we left offyears ago. There is a serene impudence about the treatment some meteout to their friends, dropping them whenever it suits, and thinking totake them up when it happens once more to suit. We cannot expect towalk with another, when we have gone for miles along another way. Wewill have to go back, and catch him up again. If the fault has beenours, desire and shame will give our feet wings. 

The real source of separation is ultimately a spiritual one. We cannotwalk with another unless we are agreed. The lapse of friendship isoften due to this, that one has let the other travel on alone. If onehas sought pleasure, and the other has sought truth; if one hascumbered his life with the trivial and the petty, and the other hasfilled his with high thoughts and noble aspirations; if their heartsare on different levels, it is natural that they should now be apart. We cannot stay behind with the camp-followers, and at the same timefight in the van with the heroes. If we would keep our best friends, we must go with them in sympathy, and be able to share their thoughts. In the letters of Dean Stanley, there is one from Jowett to Stanley, which brings out this necessity. "I earnestly hope that thefriendship, which commenced between us many years ago, may be ablessing to last us through life. I feel that if it is to be so wemust both go onward, otherwise the tear and wear of life, and the'having travelled over each other's minds, ' and a thousand accidentswill be sufficient to break it off. I have often felt the inability toconverse with you, but never for an instant the least alienation. There is no one who would not think me happy in having such a friend. "

It is not, however, so much the equal pace of the mind which isnecessary, as the equal pace of the spirit. We may think about a verybrilliant friend that he will outstrip us, and outgrow us. The fear isnatural, but if there be spiritual oneness it is an unfounded fear. 

 Yet oft, when sundown skirts the moor, An inner trouble I behold, A spectral doubt which makes me cold, That I should be thy mate no more. 

But love is not dependent on intellect. The great bond of union is notthat both parties are alike in mind, but that they are akin in soul. Mere intellect only divides men further than the ordinary natural andartificial distinctions that already exist. There are endlessinstances of this disuniting influence to be seen, in the contempt oflearning for ignorance, the derisive attitude which knowledge assumestoward simplicity, the metropolitan disdain for provincial Galilee, the_rabies theologica_ which is ever ready to declare that this peoplethat knoweth not the law is accursed. It is love, not logic, which canunite men. Love is the one solvent to break down all barriers, andlove has other grounds for its existence than merely intellectual ones. So that although similarity of taste is another bond and is perhapsnecessary for the perfect friendship, it is not its foundation; and ifthe foundation be not undermined, there is no reason why difference ofmental power should wreck the structure. 

However it happen that friends are separated, it is always sad; for theloss of a friendship is the loss of an ideal. Sadder than the pathosof unmated hearts is the pathos of severed souls. It is always a painto find a friend look on us with cold stranger's eyes, and to knowourselves dead of hopes of future intimacy. It is a pain even when wehave nothing to blame ourselves with, much more so when we feel thatours is the fault. It would not seem to matter very much, if it werenot such a loss to both; for friendship is one of the appointed meansof saving the life from worldliness and selfishness. It is thegreatest education in the world; for it is education of the whole man, of the affections as well as the intellect. Nothing of worldly successcan make up for the want of it. And true friendship is also a moralpreservative. It teaches something of the joy of service, and thebeauty of sacrifice. We cannot live an utterly useless life, if wehave to think for, and act for, another. It keeps love in the heart, and keeps God in the life. 

The greatest and most irretrievable wreck of friendship is the resultof a moral breakdown in one of the associates. Worse than theseparation of the grave is the desolation of the heart byfaithlessness. More impassable than the gulf of distance with theestranging sea, more separating than the gulf of death, is the greatgulf fixed between souls through deceit and shame. It is as the sin ofJudas. Said a sorrowful Psalmist, who had known this experience, "Mineown familiar friend in whom I trusted, which did eat of my bread, hathlifted up his heel against me. " And another Psalmist sobs out the samelament, "It was not an enemy that reproached me, then I could haveborne it, but it was thou, a man mine equal, my guide and mineacquaintance. We took sweet counsel together, and walked into thehouse of God in company. " The loss of a friend by any of the commonmeans is not so hard, as to find a friend faithless. The trustful soulhas often been disillusioned thus. The rod has broken in the hand thatleaned on it, and has left its red wound on the palm. There is adeeper wound on the heart. 

The result of such a breakdown of comradeship is often bitterness, andcynical distrust of man. It is this experience which gives point tothe worldling's sneer, Defend me from my friends, I can defend myselffrom my enemies. We cannot wonder sometimes at the cynicism. It islike treason within the camp, against which no man can guard. It is astab in the back, a cowardly assassination of the heart. Treacherylike this usually means a sudden fall from the ideal for the deceivedone, and the ideal can only be recovered, if at all, by a slow andtoilsome ascent, foot by foot and step by step. 

Failure of one often leads to distrust of all. This is the terribleresponsibility of friendship. We have more than the happiness of ourfriend in our power; we, have his faith. Most men who are cynicalabout women are so, because of the inconstancy of one. Most sneers atfriendship are, to begin with at least, the expression of individualpain, because the man has known the shock of the lifted heel. Distrustworks havoc on the character; for it ends in unbelief of goodnessitself. And distrust always meets with its own likeness, and is paidback in its own coin. Suspicion breeds suspicion, and the conduct oflife on such principles becomes a tug-of-war in which Greek is matchedwith Greek. 

The social virtues, which keep the whole community together, are thusclosely allied to the supreme virtue of friendship. Aristotle hadreason in making it the _nexus_ between his Ethics and his Politics. Truth, good faith, honest dealing between man and man, are necessaryfor any kind of intercourse, even that of business. Men can do nothingwith each other, if they have not a certain minimum of trust. Therehave been times when there seems to be almost an epidemic offaithlessness, when the social bond seems loosened, when men's handsare raised against each other, when confidence is paralyzed, and peoplehardly know whom to trust. 

The prophet Micah, who lived in such a time, expresses this state ofdistrust: "Trust ye not any friend, put ye no confidence in a familiarfriend. A man's enemies are of his own household. " This meansanarchy, and society becomes like a bundle of sticks with the cord cut. The cause is always a decay of religion; for law is based on morality, and morality finds its strongest sanction in religion. Selfishnessresults in anarchy, a reversion to the Ishmaelite type of life. 

The story of the French Revolution has in it some of the darkest pagesin the history of modern civilization, due to the breakdown of socialtrust. The Revolution, like Saturn, took to devouring her ownchildren. Suspicion, during the reign of terror, brooded over theheads of men, and oppressed their hearts. The ties of blood andfellowship seemed broken, and the sad words of Christ had their horridfulfilment, that the brother would deliver up the brother to death, andthe father the child, and the children rise up against the parents andcause them to be put to death. There are some awful possibilities inhuman nature. In Paris of these days a man had to be ever on hisguard, to watch his acts, his words, even his looks. It meant for atime a collapse of the whole idea of the state. It was a panic, worsethan avowed civil war. Friendship, of course, could have little placein such a frightful palsy of mutual confidence, though there were, forthe honor of the race, some noble exceptions. The wreck of friendshipthrough deceit is always a step toward social anarchy; for it helps tobreak down trust and good faith among men. 

The wreck of friendship is also a blow to religion. Many have losttheir faith in God, because they have lost, through faithlessness, their faith in man. Doubt of the reality of love becomes doubt of thereality of the spiritual life. To be unable to see the divine in man, is to have the eyes blinded to the divine anywhere. Deception in thesphere of love shakes the foundation of religion. Its result isatheism, not perhaps as a conscious speculative system of thought, butas a subtle practical influence on conduct. It corrupts the fountainof life, and taints the whole stream. Despair of love, if final andcomplete, would be despair of God; for God is love. Thus, the wreck offriendship often means a temporary wreck of faith. It ought not to beso; but that there is a danger of it should impress us with a deepersense of the responsibility attached to our friendships. Our lifefollows the fortunes of our love. 

The Renewing of Friendship

Perhaps we may go further, and say that friends, whose friendship hasbeen broken off, should not entirely forget their former intercourse;and that just as we hold that we ought to serve friends beforestrangers, so former friends have some claims upon us on the ground ofpast friendship, unless extraordinary depravity were the cause of ourparting. --ARISTOTLE. 

The Renewing of Friendship

It is a sentiment of the poets and romancers that love is rather helpedby quarrels. There must be some truth in it, as we find the ideaexpressed a hundred times in different forms in literature. We find itamong the wisdom of the ancients, and it remains still as one of theconventional properties of the dramatist, and one of the acceptedtraditions of the novelist. It is expressed in maxim and apothegm, inplay and poem. One of our old pre-Elizabethan writers has put it inclassic form in English:--

 The falling out of faithful friends is the renewing of love. 

It is the chief stock-in-trade of the writer of fiction, to depict themisunderstandings which arise between two persons, through the sin ofone, or the folly of both, or the villainy of a third; then comes themeans by which the tangled skein is unravelled, and in the endeverything is satisfactorily explained, and the sorely-tried charactersare ushered into a happiness stronger and sweeter than ever before. Friends quarrel, and are miserable in their state of separation; andafterward, when the friendship is renewed, it is discovered that thebitter dispute was only a blessing in disguise, as the renewal itselfwas an exquisite pleasure, and the result has been a firmer and morestable relationship of love and trust. 

The truth in this sentiment is, of course, the evident one, that a manoften only wakens to the value of a possession when he is in danger oflosing it. The force of a current is sometimes only noted when it isopposed by an obstacle. Two persons may discover, by a temporaryalienation, how much they really care for each other. It may be thatpreviously they took things for granted. Their affection had lost itsfirst glitter, and was accepted as a commonplace. Through somemisunderstanding or dispute, they broke off their friendlyrelationship, feeling sure that they had come to an end of theirregard. They could never again be on the same close terms; hot wordshad been spoken; taunts and reproaches had passed; eyes had flashedfire, and they parted in anger--only to learn that their love for eachother was as real and as strong as ever. The very difference revealedthe true union of hearts that had existed. They had been blind to thestrength of their mutual regard, till it was so painfully brought totheir notice. The love is renewed with a more tender sense of itssacredness, and a more profound feeling of its strength. Thedissensions only displayed the union; the discord drove them to afuller harmony. This is a natural and common experience. 

But a mistake may easily be made by confusing cause and effect. "Thecourse of true love never did run smooth"--but the obstacles in thechannel do not _produce_ the swiftness and the volume of the stream;they only _show_ them. There may be an unsuspected depth and force forthe first time brought to light when the stream strikes a barrier, butthe barrier is merely the occasion, not the cause, of the revelation. To mistake the one for the other, may lead to a false and stupidpolicy. Many, through this mistake, act as though dissension were ofthe very nature of affection, and as if the one must necessarily reacton the other for good. Some foolish people will sometimes even producedisagreement for the supposed pleasure of agreeing once more, andquarrel for the sake of making it up again. 

Rather, the end of love is near at hand, when wrangling can live in itspresence. It is not true that love is helped by quarrels, except inthe small sense already indicated. A man may quarrel once too oftenwith his friend, and a brother offended, says the proverb, is harder tobe won than a strong city, and such contentions are like the bars of acastle. It is always a dangerous experiment to wilfully testaffection, besides being often a cruel one. Disputing is a shock toconfidence, and without confidence friendship cannot continue. A stateof feud, even though a temporary one, often embitters the life, andleaves its mark on the heart. Desolated homes and lonely lives arewitnesses of the folly of any such policy. From the root of bitternessthere cannot possibly blossom any of the fair flowers of love. Thesurface truth of the poets' sentiment we have acknowledged andaccounted for, but it is only a surface truth. The best of friendswill fall out, and the best of them will renew their friendship, but itis always at a great risk, and sometimes it strains the foundations oftheir esteem for each other to shaking:

 And blessings on the falling out That all the more endears, When we fall out with those we love And kiss again with tears!

But in any serious rupture of friendship it can only be a blessing whenit means the tears of repentance, and these are often tears of blood. In all renewing there must be an element of repentance, and howevergreat the joy of having regained the old footing, there is the memoryof pain, and the presence of regret. To cultivate contention as anart, and to trade upon the supposed benefit of renewing friendship, isa folly which brings its own retribution. 

The disputatious person for this reason never makes a good friend. Infriendship men look for peace, and concord, and some measure ofcontent. There are enough battles to fight outside, enough jarring andjostling in the street, enough disputing in the market-place, enoughdiscord in the workaday world, without having to look for contention inthe realm of the inner life also. There, if anywhere, we ask for anend of strife. Friendship is the sanctuary of the heart, and the peaceof the sanctuary should brood over it. Its chiefest glory is that thedust and noise of contest are excluded. 

It must needs be that offences come. It is not only that the world isfull of conflict and controversy, and every man must take his share inthe fights of his time. We are born into the battle; we are born forthe battle. But apart from the outside strife, from which we cannotseparate ourselves, and do not desire to separate ourselves if we aretrue men, the strange thing is that it looks as if it must needs bethat offences come even among brethren. The bitterest disputes in lifeare among those who are nearest each other in spirit. We do notquarrel with the man in the street, the man with whom we have little orno communication. He has not the chance, nor the power, to chafe oursoul, and ruffle our temper. If need be, we can afford to despise, orat least to neglect him. It is the man of our own household, near usin life and spirit, who runs the risk of the only serious dissensionswith us. The man with whom we have most points of contact presents thegreatest number of places where difference can occur. Only fromcircles that touch each other can a tangent strike off from the samepoint. A man can only make enemies among his friends. A certainamount of opposition and enmity a man must be prepared for in thisworld, unless he live a very invertebrate life. Outside oppositioncannot embitter, for it cannot touch the soul. But that two who havewalked as friends, one in aim and one in heart, perhaps of the samehousehold of faith, should stand face to face with hard brows andgleaming eyes, should speak as foes and not as lovers of the same love, is, in spite of the poets and romancers, the bitterest moment of life. 

There are some we cannot hurt even if we would; whom all the venom ofour nature could not touch, because we mean nothing to them. But thereare others in our power, whom we can stab with a word, and these areour brethren, our familiar friends, our comrades at work, our closeassociates, our fellow laborers in God's vineyard. It is not the crowdthat idly jostle us in the street who can hurt us to the quick, but afamiliar friend in whom we trusted. He has a means of ingress barredto strangers, and can strike home as no other can. This explains whyfamily quarrels, ruptures in the inner circle, Church disputes, are sobitter. They come so near us. An offended brother is hard to win, because the very closeness of the previous intimacy brings a ranklingsense of injustice and the resentment of injured love. An injury fromthe hand of a friend seems such a wanton thing; and the heart hardensitself with the sense of wrong, and a separation ensues like the barsof a castle. 

It must needs be that offences come, but woe unto him by whom theycome. The strife-makers find in themselves, in their barren heart andempty life, their own appropriate curse. The blow they strike comesback upon themselves. Worse than the choleric temperament is thepeevish, sullen nature. The one usually finds a speedy repentance forhis hot and hasty mood; the other is a constant menace to friendship, and acts like a perpetual irritant. Its root is selfishness, and itgrows by what it feeds on. 

When offences do come, we may indeed use them as opportunities forgrowth in gracious ways, and thus turn them into blessings on the livesof both. To the offended it may be an occasion for patience andforgiveness; to the offender, an occasion for humility and frankconfession; and to both, a renewing of love less open to offence in thefuture. There are some general counsels about the making up ofdifferences, though each case needs special treatment for itself, whichwill easily be found if once the desire for concord be established. Christ's recipe for a quarrel among brethren is: "If thy brother shalltrespass against thee, go and tell him his fault between thee and himalone; if he shall hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother. "

Much of our dissension is due to misunderstanding, which could be putright by a few honest words and a little open dealing. Human beings sooften live at cross purposes with each other, when a frank word, or asimple confession of wrong, almost a look or a gesture, would heal thedivision. Resentment grows through brooding over a fancied slight. Hearts harden themselves in silence, and, as time goes on, it becomesmore difficult to break through the silence. Often there are strainedrelations among men, who, at the bottom of their hearts, have sincererespect for each other, and smouldering affection also, which onlyneeds a little coaxing of the spark to burst out again into a dancingflame. There is a terrible waste of human friendship, a waste of powerwhich might be used to bless all our lives, through our sinfulseparations, our selfish exclusiveness, our resentful pride. We letthe sweetest souls we have met die without acknowledging our debt tothem. We stand aside in haughty isolation, till the open grave opensour sealed hearts--too late. We let the chance of reconciliation passtill it is irrevocable. Most can remember a tender spot in the pastsomewhere, a sore place, a time when discord entered with another theyloved, and

 Each spake words of high disdain And insult to his heart's best brother. 

And in some cases, as with the friends in Coleridge's great poem, theparting has been eternal, and neither has ever since found another suchfriend to fill the life with comfort, and free the hollow heart frompaining. 

There is more evil from such a state of discord than the mere loss itis to both; it influences the whole heart-life, creating sometimesbitterness, sometimes universal suspicion, sometimes cynicism. Hatredis contagious, as love is. They have an effect on the whole character, and are not confined to the single incident which causes the love orthe hate. To hate a single one of God's creatures is to harden theheart to some extent against all. Love is the centre of a circle, which broadens out in ever-widening circumference. Dante tells us in_La Vita Nuova_ that the effect of his love for Beatrice was to openhis heart to all, and to sweeten all his life. He speaks of thesurpassing virtue of her very salutation to him in the street. "Whenshe appeared in any place, it seemed to me, by the hope of herexcellent salutation, that there was no man mine enemy any longer; andsuch warmth of charity came upon me that most certainly in that momentI would have pardoned whomsoever had done me an injury; and if any oneshould then have questioned me concerning any matter, I could only havesaid unto him 'Love, ' with a countenance clothed in humbleness. " Hislove bred sweetness in his mind, and took in everything within theblessed sweep of its range. Hatred also is the centre of a circle, which has a baneful effect on the whole life. We cannot havebitterness or resentment in our mind without its coloring every thoughtand affection. Hate of one will affect our attitude toward all. 

If, then, we possess the spirit to be reconciled with an offended or anoffending brother, there are some things which may be said about thetactics of renewing the broken tie. There is needed a certain tactfulconsiderateness. In all such questions the grace of the act depends asmuch on the _manner_ of it, as on the act itself. The grace of thefairest act may be hurt by a boorish blemish of manner. Many agraceful act is spoiled by a graceless touch, as a generous deed can beruined by a grudging manner. An air of condescension will destroy thevalue of the finest charity. There is a forgiveness which is noforgiveness--formal, constrained, from the teeth and lips outward. Itdoes not come as the warm breath which has had contact with the bloodof the heart. The highest forgiveness is so full and free, that it isforgetfulness. It is complete as the forgiveness of God. 

If there is something in the method of the approach, there is perhapsmore in the time of it. It ought to be chosen carefully andconsiderately; for it may be that the other has not been prepared forthe renewal by thought and feeling, as the man who makes the advanceshas been. No hard and fast rule can be formulated when dealing withsuch a complex and varied subject as man. So much depends on temperand character. One man taken by surprise reveals his true feeling;another, when taken off his guard, is irritated, and shuts up his heartin a sort of instinctive self-defence. The thoughtfulness of love willsuggest the appropriate means, but some emphasis may rightly be givento the phrase in Christ's counsel, "between thee and him alone. " Letthere be an opportunity for a frank and private conversation. Toappeal to an estranged friend before witnesses induces to specialpleading, making the witnesses the jury, asking for a verdict on eitherside; and the result is that both are still convinced they have righton their side, and that they have been wronged. 

If the fault of the estrangement lies with us, the burden of confessionshould rest upon us also. To go to him with sincere penitence is nomore than our duty. Whether the result be successful or not, it willmean a blessing for our own soul. Humility brings its own reward; forit brings God into the life. Even if we have cause to suspect that theoffended brother will not receive us kindly, still such reparation aswe can make is at least the gate to reconciliation. It may be toolate, but confession will lighten the burden on our own heart. Ourbrother may be so offended that he is harder to be won than a strongcity, but he is far more worth winning; and even if the effort beunsuccessful, it is better than the cowardice which suffers a bloodlessdefeat. 

If, on the other hand, the fault was not ours, our duty is still clear. It should be even easier to take the initiative in such a case; forafter all it is much easier to forgive than to submit to be forgiven. To some natures it is hard to be laid under an obligation, and thegenerosity of love must be shown by the offended brother. He must showthe other his fault gently and generously, not parading his forgivenesslike a virtue, but as if the favor were on his side--as it is. Christmade forgiveness the test of spirituality. If we do not know the graceof forgiveness, we do not know how gracious life may be. The highesthappiness is not a matter of possessions and material gains, but hasits source in a heart at peace; and thus it is that the renewing offriendship has a spiritual result. If we are revengeful, censorious, judging others harshly, always putting the worst construction on a wordor an act, uncharitable, unforgiving, we certainly cannot claim kinshipwith the spirit of the Lord Jesus. St. Paul made the opposite the verytest of the spiritual man: "Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual restore such an one in the spirit of meekness. "

If we knew all, we would forgive all. If we knew all the facts, thethings which produced the petulance, the soreness which caused theirritation, we would be ready to pardon; for we would understand thetemptation. If we knew all, our hearts would be full of pitiful loveeven for those who have wronged us. They have wronged themselves morethan they can possibly wrong us; they have wounded a man to their ownhurt. To think kindly once more of a separated friend, to soften theheart toward an offending brother, will bring the blessing of thePeace-maker, the blessing of the Reconciler. The way to be sure ofacting this part is to pray for him. We cannot remain angry withanother, when we pray for him. Offence departs, when prayer comes. The captivity of Job was turned, when he prayed for his friends. 

If we stubbornly refuse the renewing of friendship, it is an offenceagainst religion also. Only love can fulfil the law of Christ. His isthe Gospel of reconciliation, and the greater reconciliation includesthe lesser. The friends of Christ must be friends of one another. That ought to be accepted as an axiom. To be reconciled to God carrieswith it at least a disposition of heart, which makes it easy to bereconciled to men also. We have cause to suspect our religion, if itdoes not make us gentle, and forbearing, and forgiving; if the love ofour Lord does not so flood our hearts as to cleanse them of allbitterness, and spite, and wrath. If a man is nursing anger, if he isletting his mind become a nest of foul passions, malice, and hatred, and evil wishing, how dwelleth the love of God in him?

If we cannot, at need, even humiliate ourselves to win our brother, itis difficult to see where our religion comes in, especially when wethink what humiliation Christ suffered, that He might reconcile us toGod, and make us friends again with our heavenly Father, and renew ourbroken love. Whatever be our faith and works, and however correct beour creed and conduct, if we are giving place to anger, if we arestiffening ourselves in strife and disdain, we are none of His, who wasmeek and lowly of heart. We may come to the Sanctuary with lips fullof praises and eyes full of prayers, with devotion in our hearts andgifts in our hand, but God will spurn our worship and despise ourgifts. It is not a small matter, this renewing of friendship, but isthe root of religion itself, and is well made the very test ofspiritual-mindedness. "If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and thererememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee, leave there thygift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thybrother, and then come and offer thy gift. " Misunderstandings andestrangements will arise, occasions will come when it seems as if noteven love and forbearance can avoid a quarrel, but surely Christ hasdied in vain if His grace cannot save us from the continuance of strife. 

Such renewing of love, done with this high motive, will indeed bring anadded joy, as the poets have declared. The very pain will give zest tothe pleasure. We will take the great gift of friendship with a newsense of its beauty and sacredness. We will walk more softly becauseof the experience, and more than ever will tremble lest we lose it. For days after the reconciliation, we will go about with the feelingthat the benediction of the peace-makers rests on our head and clingsround our feet. 

But more than any personal joy from the renewed friendship, we willhave the smile of God on our life. We will know that we have done whatis well pleasing in His sight. Sweeter than the peace which comes frombeing at one with men, is the peace which comes from being at one withGod. It settles on the soul like the mist on the mountains, envelopingand enswathing it. It comes to our fevered life as a great calm. Overthe broken waters there hovers the golden glory of God's eternal peace. 

And more even than all that, we will have gained a new insight into thelove of the Father, and into the sacrifice of the Son. We willunderstand a little more of the mystery of the Love which became poor, which gladly went into the wilderness to seek and to save the lost. The cross will gain new and rich significance to us, and all the worldwill be an arena in which is enacted the spectacle of God's great love. The world is bathed in the love of God, as it is flooded by the blessedsun. If we are in the light and walk in love, our walk will be withGod, and His gentleness will make us great. There is intended an everfuller education in the meaning, and in the life of love, until theassurance reaches us that nothing can separate us from love. Evendeath, which sunders us from our friends, cannot permanently divide us. In the great Home-coming and Reunion of hearts, all the veils whichobscure feeling will be torn down, and we shall know each other better, and shall love each other better. 

But every opportunity carries a penalty; every privilege brings with ita warning. If we will not live the life of love, if we harden ourheart against a brother offended, we will find in our need even thegreat and infinite love of God shut against us, harder to be won than astrong city, ribbed and stockaded as the bars of a castle. To theunforgiving there is no forgiveness. To the hard, and relentless, andloveless, there is no love. To the selfish, there is no heaven. 

The Limits of Friendship

If thy brother, the son of thy mother, or thy son, or thy daughter, orthe wife of thy bosom, or thy friend which is as thine own soul, enticethee secretly, saying, Let us go and serve other gods, thou shalt notconsent unto him, nor hearken unto him, but thine hand shall be firstupon him to put him to death, and afterward the hand of all the people;because he hath sought to thrust thee away from the Lord thy God. 

DEUTERONOMY. 

 Yet each will have one anguish--his own soul, Which perishes of cold. 

MATTHEW ARNOLD. 

The Limits of Friendship

Friendship, at its very best and purest, has limits. At its beginning, it seems to have no conditions, and to be capable of endlessdevelopment. In the first flush of new-born love it seems almost aninsult to question its absolute power to meet every demand made uponit. The exquisite joy of understanding, and being understood, is tookeen to let us believe, that there may be a terminal line, beyond whichwe may not pass. Friendship comes as a mystery, formless, undefined, without set bounds; and it is often a sore experience to discover thatit is circumscribed, and limited like everything human. At first tospeak of it as having qualifications was a profanation, and to findthem out came as a disillusionment. 

Yet the discovery is not all a loss. The limitless is also the vague, and it is well to know the exact terms implied in a relationship. Ofcourse we learn through experience the restrictions on all intimacy, and if we are wise we learn to keep well within the margin; but many adisappointment might have been saved, if we had understood the inherentlimitations of the subject. These are the result of personality. Eachpartner is after all a distinct individual, with will, and conscience, and life apart, with a personal responsibility which none can take fromhim, and with an individual bias of mind and heart which can never beleft out of account. 

As is to be expected, some of the limits of friendship are notessential to the relation, but are due to a _defect_ in the relation, perhaps an idiosyncrasy of character or a peculiarity of temper. Someof the limits are self-imposed, and arise from mistake of folly. Afriend may be too exacting, and may make excessive demands, whichstrain the bond to the breaking point. There is often a good deal ofselfishness in the affection, which asks for absorption, and is jealousof other interests. Jealousy is usually the fruit, not of love, but ofself-love. Life is bigger than any relationship, and covers moreground. The circles of life may intersect, and part of each be commonto the other, but there will be an area on both sides exclusive toeach; and even if it were possible for the circles to be concentric, itcould hardly be that the circumference of the two could be the same;one would be, almost without a doubt, of larger radius than the other. It is not identity which is the aim and the glory of friendship, butunity in the midst of difference. To strive at identity is to becertain of failure, and it deserves failure; for it is the outcome ofselfishness. A man's friend is not his property, to be claimed as hisexclusive possession. Jealousy is an ignoble vice, because it has itsroots in egotism. It also destroys affection, since it is an evidenceof want of trust, and trust is essential to friendship. 

There are physical limits to friendship, if nothing else. There arematerial barriers to be surmounted, before human beings really get intotouch with each other, even in the slightest degree. The bodilyorgans, through which alone we can enter into communication, carry withthem their own disabilities. The senses are at the best limited intheir range, and are ever exposed to error. Flesh stands in the way ofa complete revelation of soul. Human feet cannot enter past thethreshold of the soul's abode. The very means of self-revelation is aself-concealment. The medium, by which alone we know, darkens, if itdoes not distort, the object. Words obscure thought, by the veryprocess through which alone thought is possible for us; and the fleshlywrappings of the soul hide it, at the same time that they make itvisible. 

And if there are physical limits to friendship, there are greatermental limits. The needs of living press on us, and drive us intodifferent currents of action. Our varied experience colors all ourthought, and gives a special bias to our mind. There is a personalequation which must always be taken into account. This is the charm ofintercourse, but it is also a limitation. We do not travel over thesame ground; we meet, but we also part. However great the sympathy, itis not possible completely to enter into another man's mind, and lookat a subject with his eyes. Much of our impatience with each other, and most of our misunderstandings, are caused by this naturallimitation. The lines along which our minds travel can at the best beasymptotic, approaching each other indefinitely near, but never quitecoinciding. 

The greatest limit of friendship, of which these other are butindications, is the spiritual fact of the separate personality of eachhuman being. This is seen most absolutely in the sphere of morals. The ultimate standard for a man is his own individual conscience, andneither the constraint of affection, nor the authority of numbers, canatone for falseness there. One of the most forceful illustrations ofthis final position of all religion is to be found, in the passage ofterrific intensity from the Book of Deuteronomy, which we havetranscribed as a preface to this chapter. The form of the passage ofcourse gets its coloring from the needs of the time and the temper ofthe age. The Book of Deuteronomy is so sure that the law of God isnecessary for the life of Israel, and that departure from it will meannational ruin, that it will shrink from nothing needed to preserve thetruth. Its warnings against being led away to idolatry are veryinstant and solemn. Every precaution must be taken; nothing must beallowed to seduce them from their allegiance, not the most sacred ties, nor the most solemn authority. No measure of repression can be toostern. In that fierce time it was natural that apostasy should bethought worthy of death; for apostasy from religion meant also treasonto the nation: much more those who used their influence to seduce mento apostasy were to be condemned. The passage is introduced by theassertion that if even a prophet, a recognized servant of God, attesting his prophecy with signs and wonders, should solicit them toleave the worship of Jehovah, in spite of his sacred character, and inspite of the seeming evidence of miracles, they must turn from him withloathing, and his doom should be death. And if the apostasy shouldhave the weight of numbers and a whole city go astray, the same doom istheirs. If the tenderest relationship should tempt the soul away, if abrother, or son, or daughter, or wife, or friend, should entice toapostasy, the same relentless judgment must be meted out. 

The fact that this stern treatment is advocated in this Book, which isfull of the most tender consideration for all weak things, shows theneed of the time. Deuteronomy has some of the most beautifullegislation in favor of slaves and little children and birds anddomestic animals, some of it in advance of even our modern customs andpractices, permeated as these are by Christian sentiment. And it is inthis finely sensitive Book that we find such strong assertion of theparamount importance of individual responsibility. 

The influence of a friend or near relative is bound to be great. Weare affected on every side, and at every moment, by the environment ofother lives. There is a spiritual affinity, which is the closest andmost powerful thing in the world, and yet in the realm of morals it hasdefinite limits set to it. At the best it can only go a certainlength, and ought not to be allowed to go further than its legitimatebounds. The writer of Deuteronomy appreciated to the full the powerand attraction of the near human relationships. We see this from theway he describes them, adding an additional touch of fondness to each, "thy brother the son of thy mother, the wife of thy bosom, thy friendwho is as thine own soul. " But it sets a limit to the place even suchtender ties should be allowed to have. The most intimate of relatives, the most trusted of friends, must not be permitted to abrogate theplace of conscience. Affection may be perverted into an instrument ofevil. There is a higher moral law than even the law of friendship. The demands of friendship must not be allowed to interfere with thedictates of duty. It is not that the moral law should be blindlyobeyed, but because in obeying it we are choosing the better part forboth; for as Frederick Robertson truly says, "the man who prefers hisdearest friend to the call of duty, will soon show that he prefershimself to his dearest friend. " Such weak giving in to the supposedhigher demand of friendship is only a form of selfishness. 

Friendship is sometimes too exacting. It asks for too much, more thanwe have to give, more than we ever ought to give. There is a tyrannyof love, making demands which can only be granted to the loss of both. Such tyranny is a perversion of the nature of love, which is to serve, not to rule. It would override conscience, and break down the will. We cannot give up our personal duty, as we cannot give up our personalresponsibility. That is how it is possible for Christ to say that if aman love father, or mother, or wife more than Him, he is not worthy ofHim. No human being can take the place of God to another life; it isan acted blasphemy to attempt it. 

There is a love which is evil in its selfishness. Its very exclusiveclaim is a sign of its evil root. The rights of the individual mustnot be renounced, even for love's sake. Human love can ask too much, and it asks too much when it would break down the individual will andconscience. 

 The hands that love us often are the hands That softly close our eyes and draw us earthward. We give them all the largesse of our life-- Not this, not all the world, contenteth them, Till we renounce our rights as living souls. 

We cannot renounce our rights as living souls without losing our souls. No man can pay the debt of life for us. No man can take the burden oflife from us. To no man can we hand over the reins unreservedly. Itwould be cowardice, and cowardice is sin. The first axiom of thespiritual life is the sacredness of the individuality of each. We mustrespect each other's personality. Even when we have rights over otherpeople, these rights are strictly limited, and carry with them acorresponding duty to respect their rights also. The one intolerabledespotism in the world is the attempt to put a yoke on the souls ofmen, and there are some forms of intimacy which approach thatdespotism. To transgress the moral bounds set to friendship is to makethe highest forms of friendship impossible; for these are only reachedwhen free spirits meet in the unity of the spirit. 

The community of human life, of which we are learning much to-day, is agreat fact. We are all bound up in the same bundle. In a very truesense we stand or fall together. We are ever on our trial as asociety; not only materially, but even in the highest things, morallyand spiritually. There is a social conscience, which we affect, andwhich constantly affects us. We cannot rise very much above it; tofall much below it, is for all true purposes to cease to live. We haverecognized social standards which test morality; we have common ties, common duties, common responsibilities. 

But with it all, in spite of the fact of the community of human life, there is the other fact of the singleness of human life. We have alife, which we must live _alone_. We can never get past the ultimatefact of the personal responsibility of each. We may be leaves from thesame tree of life, but no two leaves are alike. We may be wrapped upin the same bundle, but one bundle can contain very different things. Each of us is colored with his own shade, separate and peculiar. Wehave our own special powers of intellect, our own special experience, our own moral conscience, our own moral life to live. So, while it istrue that we stand or fall together, it is also true--and it is adeeper truth--that we stand or fall alone. 

In this crowded world, with its intercourse and jostling, with itsnetwork of relationships, with its mingled web of life, we are eachalone. Below the surface there is a deep, and below the deep there isa deeper depth. In the depth of the human heart there is, and theremust be, solitude. There is a limit to the possible communion withanother. We never completely open up our nature to even our nearestand dearest. In spite of ourselves something is kept back. Not thatwe are untrue in this, and hide our inner self, but simply that we areunable to reveal ourselves entirely. There is a bitterness of theheart which only the heart knoweth; there is a joy of the heart withwhich no stranger can intermeddle; there is a bound beyond which even afriend who is as our own soul becomes a stranger. There is a Holy ofHolies, over the threshold of which no human feet can pass. It is safefrom trespass, guarded from intrusion, and even we cannot give toanother the magic key to open the door. In spite of all the complexityof our social life, and the endless connections we form with others, there is as the ultimate fact a great and almost weird solitude. Wemay fill up our hearts with human fellowship in all its grades, yetthere remains to each a distinct and separated life. 

We speak vaguely of the mass of men, but the mass consists of units, each with his own life, a thing apart. The community of human life isbeing emphasized to-day, and it is a lesson which bears and needsrepetition, the lesson of our common ties and common duties. But atthe same time we dare not lose sight of the fact of the singleness ofhuman life, if for no other reason than that, otherwise we have nomoral appeal to make on behalf of those ties and duties. In the regionof morals, in dealing with sin, we see how true this solitude is. There may be what we can truly call social and national sins, and mencan sin together, but in its ultimate issue sin is individual. It is adisintegrating thing, separating a man from his fellows, and separatinghim from God. We are alone with our sin, like the Ancient Mariner withthe bodies of his messmates around him, each cursing him with his eye. In the last issue, there is nothing in the universe but God and thesingle human soul. Men can share the sinning with us; no man can sharethe sin. "And the sin ye do by two and two, ye must pay for one byone. " Therefore in this sphere of morals there must be limits tofriendship, even with the friend who is as our own soul. 

Friendship is a very real and close thing. It is one of the greatestjoys in life, and has noble fruits. We can do much for each other:there are burdens we can share: we can rejoice with those who dorejoice, and weep with those who weep. Through sympathy and love weare able to get out of self; and yet even here there are limits. Ourhelplessness in the presence of grief proves this fundamentalsingleness of human life. When we stand beside a friend before theopen grave, under the cloud of a great sorrow, we learn how little wecan do for him. We can only stand speechless, and pray that the greatComforter may come with His own divine tenderness and enter thesanctuary of sorrow shut to feet of flesh. Mourners have indeed beensoothed by a touch, or a look, or a prayer, which had their source in apitiful human heart, but it is only as a message of condolence flashedfrom one world to another. There is a burden which every man mustbear, and none can bear for him: for there is a personality which, evenif we would, we cannot unveil to human eyes. There are feelings sacredto the man who feels. We have to "dree our own weird, " and live ourown life, and die our own death. 

In the time of desolation, when the truth of this solitude is borne inon us, we are left to ourselves, not because our friends are unfeeling, but simply because they are unable. It is not their selfishness whichkeeps them off, but just their frailty. Their spirit may be willing, but the flesh is weak. It is the lesson of life, that there is no stayin the arm of flesh, that even if there is no limit to human love, there is a limit to human power. Sooner or later, somewhere or other, it is the experience of every son of man, as it was the experience ofthe Son of Man, "Behold the hour cometh, and now is come, that ye Myfriends shall be scattered every man to his own, and shall leave Mealone. "

Human friendship must have limits, just because it is human. It issubject to loss, and is often to some extent the sport of occasion. Itlacks permanence: misunderstandings can estrange us: slander canembitter us: death can bereave us. We are left very much the victimsof circumstances; for like everything earthly it is open to change anddecay. No matter how close and spiritual the intercourse, it is notpermanent, and never certain. If nothing else, the shadow of death isalways on it. Tennyson describes how he dreamed that he and his friendshould pass through the world together, loving and trusting each other, and together pass out into the silence. 

 Arrive at last the blessed goal, And He that died in Holy Land Would reach us out the shining hand, And take us as a single soul. 

It was a dream at the best. Neither to live together nor to dietogether could blot out the spiritual limits of friendship. Even inthe closest of human relations when two take each other for better forworse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, they may bemade one flesh, but never one soul. Singleness is the ultimate fact ofhuman life. "The race is run by one and one, and never by two and two. "

In religion, in the deepest things of the spirit, these limits we havebeen considering are perhaps felt most of all. With even a friend whois as one's own soul, we cannot seek to make a spiritual impression, without realizing the constraint of his separate individuality. Wecannot break through the barriers of another's distinct existence. Ifwe have ever sought to lead to a higher life another whom we love, wemust have been made to feel that it does not all rest with us, that heis a free moral being, and that only by voluntarily yielding his heartand will and life to the King, can he enter the Kingdom. We are forcedto respect his personality. We may watch and pray and speak, but wecannot save. There is almost a sort of spiritual indecency inunveiling the naked soul, in attempting to invade the personality ofanother life. There is sometimes a spiritual vivisection which someattempt in the name of religion, which is immoral. Only holier eyesthan ours, only more reverent hands than ours, can deal with the spiritof a man. He is a separate individual, with all the rights of anindividual. We may have many points of contact with him, the contactof mind on mind, and heart on heart; we may even have rights over him, the rights of love; but he can at will insulate his life from ours. Here also, as elsewhere when we go deep enough into life, it is God andthe single human soul. 

The lesson of all true living in every sphere is to learn our ownlimitations. It is the first lesson in art, to work within theessential limitations of the particular art. But in dealing with otherlives it is perhaps the hardest of all lessons, to learn, and submitto, our limitations. It is the crowning grace of faith, when we arewilling to submit, and to leave those we love in the hands of God, aswe leave ourselves. Nowhere else is the limit of friendship so deeplycut as here in the things of the spirit. 

 No man can save his brother's soul, Nor pay his brother's debt. 

Human friendship has limits because of the real greatness of man. Weare too big to be quite comprehended by another. There is alwayssomething in us left unexplained, and unexplored. We do not even knowourselves, much less can another hope to probe into the recesses of ourbeing. Friendship has a limit, because of the infinite element in thesoul. It is hard to kick against the pricks, but they are meant todrive us toward the true end of living. It is hard to be brought up bya limit along any line of life, but it is designed to send us to adeeper and richer development of our life. Man's limitation is God'soccasion. Only God can fully satisfy the hungry heart of man. 

The Higher Friendship

Love Him, and keep Him for thy Friend, who, when all go away, will notforsake thee, nor suffer thee to perish at the last. 

THOMAS Ą KEMPIS. 

 Hush, I pray you! What if this friend happen to be--God!

BROWNING. 

The Higher Friendship

Life is an education in love. There are grades and steps in it, occasions of varying opportunity for the discipline of love. It comesto us at many points, trying us at different levels, that it may getentrance somehow, and so make our lives not altogether a failure. Whenwe give up our selfishness and isolation, even in the most rudimentarydegree, a beginning is made with us that is designed to carry us far, if we but follow the leading of our hearts. There is an ideal towardwhich all our experience points. If it were not so, life would be ahopeless enigma, and the world a meaningless farce. There must be aspiritual function intended, a design to build up strong and true moralcharacter, to develop sweet and holy life, otherwise history is adespair, and experience a hopeless riddle. All truly great human lifehas been lived with a spiritual outlook, and on a high level. Men havefelt instinctively that there is no justification for all the pain, andstrife, and failure, and sorrow of the world, if these do not serve ahigher purpose than mere existence. Even our tenderest relationshipsneed some more authoritative warrant than is to be found in themselves, even in the joy and hope they bring. That joy cannot be meant as anempty lure to keep life on the earth. 

And spiritual man has also discovered that the very breakdown of humanties leads out to a larger and more permanent love. It is sooner orlater found that the most perfect love cannot utterly satisfy the heartof man. All our human intercourse, blessed and helpful as it may be, must be necessarily fragmentary and partial. A man must discover thatthere is an infinite in him, which only the infinite can match andsupply. It is no disparagement of human friendship to admit this. Itremains a blessed fact that it is possible to meet devotion, whichmakes us both humble and proud; humble at the sight of its noblesacrifice, proud with a glad pride at its wondrous beauty. Man iscapable of the highest heights of love. But man can never take theplace of God, and without God life is shorn of its glory and divestedof its meaning. 

So the human heart has ever craved for a relationship, deeper and morelasting than any possible among men, undisturbed by change, unmenacedby death, unbroken by fear, unclouded by doubt. The limitations andlosses of earthly friendship are meant to drive us to the higherfriendship. Life is an education in love, but the education is notcomplete till we learn the love of the eternal. Ordinary friendshiphas done its work when the limits of friendship are reached, whenthrough the discipline of love we are led into a larger love, when adoor is opened out to a higher life. The sickness of heart which isthe lot of all, the loneliness which not even the voice of a friend candispel, the grief which seems to stop the pulse of life itself, findtheir final meaning in this compulsion toward the divine. We aresometimes driven out not knowing whither we go, not knowing the purposeof it; only knowing through sheer necessity that here we have noabiding city, or home, or life, or love; and seeking a city, a home, alife, a love, that hath foundations. 

We have some training in the love of friends, as if only to prove to usthat without love we cannot live. All our intimacies are but brokenlights of the love of God. They are methods of preparation for thegreat communion. In so far even that our earthly friendships are helpsto life, it is because they are shot through with the spiritual, andthey prepare us by their very deficiencies for something morepermanent. There have been implanted in man an instinct, and a need, which make him discontented, till he find content in God. If at anytime we are forced to cease from man, whose breath is in his nostrils, it is that we may reach out to the infinite Father, unchanging, thesame yesterday, to-day, and forever. This is the clamant, imperiousneed of man. 

The solitude of life in its ultimate issue is because we were made fora higher companionship. It is just in the innermost sanctuary, shut toevery other visitant, that God meets us. We are driven to God by theneeds of the heart. If the existence of God was due to a purelyintellectual necessity; if we believed in Him only because our reasongave warrant for the faith; it would not matter much whether He reallyis, and whether we really can know Him. But when the instincts of ournature, and the necessities of the heart-life demand God, we are forcedto believe. In moments of deep feeling, when all pretence is silenced, a man may be still able to question the _existence_ of God, but he doesnot question his own _need_ of God. Man, to remain man, must believein the possibility of this relationship with the divine. There is alove which passeth the love of women, passeth the love of comrades, passeth all earthly love, the love of God to the weary, starved heartof man. 

To believe in this great fact does not detract from human friendship, but really gives it worth and glory. It is because of this, that alllove has a place in the life of man. All our worships, andfriendships, and loves, come from God, and are but reflections of thedivine tenderness. All that is beautiful, and lovely and pure, and ofgood repute, finds its appropriate setting in God; for it was made byGod. He made it for Himself. He made man with instincts, andaspirations, and heart-hunger, and divine unrest, that He might givethem full satisfaction in Himself. He claims everything, but He giveseverything. Our human relationships are sanctified and glorified bythe spiritual union. He gives us back our kinships, and friendships, with a new light on them, an added tenderness, transfiguring our commonties and intimacies, flooding them with a supernal joy. We part frommen to meet with God, that we may be able to meet men again on a higherplatform. But the love of God is the end and design of all otherloves. If the flowers and leaves fade, it is that the time of ripefruit is at hand. If these adornments are taken from the tree of life, it is to make room for the supreme fruitage. Without the love of Godall other love would be but deception, luring men on to the awfuldisillusionment. We were born for the love of God; if we do not findit, it were better for us if we had never been born. We may havetasted of all the joys the world can offer, have known success and thegains of success, been blessed with the sweetest friendships and thefiercest loves; but if we have not found this the chief end of life, wehave missed our chance, and can only have at the last a desolated life. 

But if through the joy or through the sorrow of life, through love orthe want of it, through the gaining of friends or the loss of them, wehave been led to dower our lives with the friendship of God, we arepossessed of the incorruptible, and undefiled, and that passeth notaway. The man who has it has attained the secret cheaply, though ithad to be purchased with his heart's blood, with the loss of his dreamof blessedness. When the fabric of life crumbled to its native dust, and he rose out of its wreck, the vision of the eternal love came withthe thrill of a great revelation. It was the entrance into themystery, and the wonder of it awed him, and the joy of it inspired him, and he awakened to the fact that never again could he be _alone_ to alleternity. 

Communion with God is the great fact of life. All our forms ofworship, all our ceremonies and symbols of religion, find their meaninghere. There is, it is true, an ethic of religion, certain moralteachings valuable for life: there are truths of religion to be laidhold of by the reason: there are the consolations of religion tocomfort the heart: but the root of all religion is this mystical union, a communion with the Unseen, a friendship with God open to man. Religion is not an acceptance of a creed, or a burden of commandments, but a personal secret of the soul, to be attained each man for himself. It is the experience of the nearness of God, the mysterious contactwith the divine, and the consciousness that we stand in a specialindividual relationship with Him. The first state of exaltation, whenthe knowledge burst upon the soul, cannot, of course, last; but itseffect remains in inward peace, and outward impulse toward nobler life. 

Men of all ages have known this close relationship. The possibility ofit is the glory of life: the fact of it is the romance of history, andthe true reading of history. All devout men that have ever lived havelived in the light of this communion. All religious experience has hadthis in common, that somehow the soul is so possessed by God, thatdoubt of His existence ceases; and the task of life becomes to keepstep with Him, so that there may be correspondence between the outerand the inner conditions of life. Men have known this communion insuch a degree that they have been called pre-eminently the Friends ofGod, but something of the experience which underlies the term is trueof the pious of all generations. 

To us, in our place in history, communion with God comes through JesusChrist. It is an ineffable mystery, but it is still a fact ofexperience. Only through Jesus do we know God, His interest in us, Hisdesire for us, His purpose with us. He not only shows us in His ownexample the blessedness of a life in fellowship with the Father, but Hemakes it possible for us. United to Jesus, we know ourselves united toGod. The power of Jesus is not limited to the historical impressionmade by His life. It entered the world as history; it lives in theworld as spiritual fact to-day. Luther's experience is the experienceof all believers, "To me it is not simply an old story of an event thathappened once; for it is a gift, a bestowing, that endures forever. "We offer Christ the submission of our hearts, and the obedience of ourlives; and He offers us His abiding presence. We take Him as ourMaster; and He takes us as His friends. "I call you no longerservants, " He said to His disciples, "but I have called you friends. "The servant knoweth not what his Master doeth, his only duty is toobey; a friend is admitted to confidence, and though he may do the samething as a servant, he does not do it any longer unreasoningly, but, having been taken into counsel, he knows why he is doing it. This wasChrist's method with His disciples, not to apportion to each his task, but to show them His great purpose for the world, and to ask for theirservice and devotion to carry it out. 

The distinction is not that a servant pleases his master, and a friendpleases himself. It is that our Lord takes us up into a relationshipof love with Himself, and we go out into life inspired with His spiritto work His work. It begins with the self-surrender of love; and love, not fear nor favor, becomes the motive. To feel thus the touch of Godon our lives changes the world. Its fruits are joy, and peace, andconfidence that all the events of life are suffused, not only withmeaning, but with a meaning of love. The higher friendship brings asatisfaction of the heart, and a joy commensurate to the love. Itsreward is itself, the sweet, enthralling relationship, not anyadventitious gain it promises, either in the present, or for thefuture. Even if there were no physical, or moral, rewards andpunishments in the world, we would still love and serve Christ _for Hisown sake_. The soul that is bound by this personal attachment to Jesushas a life in the eternal, which transfigures the life in time with agreat joy. 

We can see at once that to be the friend of God will mean peace also. It has brought peace over the troubled lives of all His friendsthroughout the ages. Every man who enters into the covenant, knows theworld to be a spiritual arena, in which the love of God manifestsitself. He walks no longer on a sodden earth and under a gray sky; forhe knows that, though all men misunderstand him, he is understood, andfollowed with loving sympathy, in heaven. It was this confidence inGod as a real and near friend, which gave to Abraham's life suchdistinction, and the calm repose which made his character soimpressive. Strong in the sense of God's friendship, he lived abovethe world, prodigal of present possessions, because sure of the future, waiting securely in the hope of the great salvation. He walked withGod in sweet unaffected piety, and serene faith, letting his characterripen in the sunshine, and living out his life as unto God not untomen. To know the love of God does not mean the impoverishing of ourlives, by robbing them of their other sweet relations. Rather, itmeans the enriching of these, by revealing their true beauty andpurpose. Sometimes we are brought nearer God through our friends, ifnot through their influence or the joy of their love, then through thediscipline which comes from their very limitations and from their loss. But oftener the experience has been that, through our union with theFriend of friends, we are led into richer and fuller intercourse withour fellows. The nearer we get to the centre of the circle, the nearerwe get to each other. To be joined together in Christ is the onlypermanent union, deeper than the tie of blood, higher than the bond ofkin, closer than the most sacred earthly relationship. Spiritualkinship is the great nexus to unite men. "Who are My brethren?" askedJesus, and for answer pointed to His disciples, and added, "Whosoevershall do the will of My Father in heaven the same is My mother andsister and brother. "

We ought to make more of our Christian friendships, the communion ofthe saints, the fellowship of believers. "They that feared God spakeoften one with another, " said the prophet Malachi in one of the darkesthours of the church. What mutual comfort, and renewed hope, they wouldget from, and give to, each other! Faith can be increased, and lovestimulated, and enthusiasm revived by intercourse. The supremefriendship with Christ therefore will not take from us any of ourtreasured intimacies, unless they are evil. It will increase thenumber of them, and the true force of them. It will link us on to allwho love the same Lord in sincerity and truth. It will open our heartto the world of men that Jesus loved and gave His life to save. 

This friendship with the Lord knows no fear of loss; neither life, nordeath, nor things present, nor things to come can separate us. It isjoy and strength in the present, and it lights up the future with agreat hope. We are not much concerned about speculations regarding thefuture; for we know that we are in the hands of our Lover. All that wecare to assert of the future is, that Christ will in an ever fullerdegree be the environment of all Christian souls, and the effect ofthat constant environment will fulfil the aspiration of the apostle, "We shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. " Communionproduces likeness. This even now is the test of our friendship withthe Lord. Are we assimilating His mind, His way of looking at things, His judgments, His spirit? Is the Christ-conscience being developed inus? Have we an increasing interest in the things which interest Him, an increasing love of the things that He loves, an increasing desire toserve the purposes He has at heart? "Ye are My friends if ye dowhatsoever I command you, " is the test by which we can try ourselves. 

Fellowship with Him, being much in His company, thinking of Him, seeking to please Him, will produce likeness, and bring us together onmore intimate terms. For, as love leads to the desire for fullerfellowship; so fellowship leads to a deeper love. Even if sometimes wealmost doubt whether we are really in this blessed covenant offriendship, our policy is to go on loving Him, serving Him, striving toplease Him; and we will yet receive the assurance, which will bringpeace; He will not disappoint us at the last. It is worth all the careand effort we can give, to have and to keep Him for our friend who willbe a lasting possession, whose life enters into the very fibre of ourlife, and whose love makes us certain of God. 

We ought to use our faith in this friendship to bless our lives. Tohave an earthly friend, whom we trust and reverence, can be to us asource of strength, keeping us from evil, making us ashamed of evil. The dearer the friend and the more spiritual the friendship, the keenerwill be this feeling, and the more needful does it seem to keep thegarments clean. It must reach its height of intensity and of moraleffectiveness in the case of friendship with God. There can be nomotive on earth so powerful. If we could only have such a friendship, we see at once what an influence it might have over our life. We canappreciate more than the joy, and peace, and comfort of it; we can feelthe power of it. To know ourselves ever before a living, lovingPresence, having a constant sense of Christ abiding in us, taking Himwith us into the marketplace, into our business and our pleasure, tohave Him as our familiar friend in joy and sorrow, in gain and loss, insuccess and failure, must, in accordance with all psychological law, bea source of strength, lifting life to a higher level of thought, andfeeling, and action. Supposing it were true and possible, it wouldnaturally be the strongest force in the world, the most effectivemotive that could be devised: it would affect the whole moral outlook, and make some things easy now deemed impossible, and make some thingsimpossible now to our shame too easy. Supposing this covenant with Godwere true, and we knew ourselves to have such a Lover of our soul, itwould, as a matter of course, give us deeper and more serious views ofhuman life, and yet take away from us the burden and the unrest of life. 

Unless history be a lie, and experience a delusion, it _is_ true. Theworld is vocal with a chorus of witness to the truth of it. From allsorts and conditions of men comes the testimony to its reality--fromthe old, who look forward to this Friend to make their bed in dying;from the young, who know His aid in the fiery furnace of temptation;from the strong, in the burden of the day and the dust of the battle, who know the rest of His love even in the sore labor; from the weak, who are mastered by His gracious pity, and inspired by His power tosuffer and to bear. Christ's work on earth was to make the friendshipof God possible to all. It seems too good to be true, too wondrous acondescension on His part, but its reality has been tested, andattested, by generations of believers. This covenant of friendship isopen to us, to be ours in life, and in death, and past the gates ofdeath. 

The human means of communication is prayer, though we limit it sadly. Prayer is not an act of worship merely, the bending of the knee on setoccasions, and offering petitions in need. It is an attitude of soul, opening the life on the Godward side, and keeping free communicationwith the world of spirit. And so, it is possible to pray always, andto keep our friendship ever green and sweet: and God comes back uponthe life, as dew upon the thirsty ground. There is an interchange offeeling, a responsiveness of love, a thrill of mutual friendship. 

 You must love Him, ere to you He shall seem worthy of your love. 

The great appeal of the Christian faith is to Christian experience. Loving Christ is its own justification, as every loving heart knows. Life evidences itself: the existence of light is its own proof. Thepower of Christ on the heart needs no other argument than itself. Menonly doubt when the life has died out, and the light has waned, andflickered, and spent itself. It is when there is no sign of the spiritin our midst, no token of forces beyond the normal and the usual, thatwe can deny the spirit. It is when faith is not in evidence that wecan dispute faith. It is when love is dead that we can question love. The Christian faith is not a creed, but a life; not a proposition, buta passion. Love is its own witness to the soul that loves: communionis its own attestation to the spirit that lives in the fellowship. Theman who lives with Jesus knows Him to be a Lover that cleaves closerthan a brother, a Friend that loveth at all times, and a Brother bornfor adversity. 

It does not follow that there is an end of the question, so far as weare concerned, if we say that we at least do not know that friendship, and cannot love Him. Some even say it with a wistful longing, "Oh, that I knew where I might find Him. " It is true that love cannot beforced, that it cannot be made to order, that we cannot love because weought, or even because we want. But we can bring ourselves into thepresence of the lovable. We can enter into Friendship through the doorof Discipleship; we can learn love through service; and the day willcome to us also when the Master's word will be true, "I call you nolonger servant, but I call you friend. " His love will take possessionof us, till all else seems as hatred in comparison. "All lovers blushwhen ye stand beside Christ, " says Samuel Rutherford; "woe unto alllove but the love of Christ. Shame forevermore be upon all glory butthe glory of Christ; hunger forevermore be upon all heaven but Christ. I cry death, death be upon all manner of life but the life of Christ. "

To be called _friends_ by our Master, to know Him as the Lover of oursouls, to give Him entrance to our hearts, is to learn the meaning ofliving, and to experience the ecstasy of living. The Higher Friendshipis bestowed without money and without price, and is open to every heartresponsive to God's great love. 

 'T is only heaven that is given away, 'T is God alone may be had for the asking.