“For this true nobleness I seek in vain, In woman and in man
I find it not; I almost weary of my earthly lot,
My life-springs are dried up with burning pain.
Thou find’st it not? I pray thee look again,
Look inward, through the depths of thine own soul.
How is it with thee? Art thou sound and whole?
Doth narrow search show thee no earthly stain?
Be noble! And the nobleness that lies
In other men, sleeping, but never dead,
Will rise in majesty to meet thine own;
Then wilt thou see it gleam in many eyes,
Then will light around thy path be shed,
And thou wilt nevermore be sad and lone.”
There is a duty of fault finding. Perhaps, indeed, most persons are diligent enough in this department of duty, and yet there may be need of a word of exhortation on the subject.
No doubt there is fault finding enough in the world, such as it is. Some people do little else. Nothing pleases them. It would seem to be a pity they had not been consulted before the world was made, for there is nothing on which they could not have suggested some improvement. They find fault with God’s works and with his providence. They criticize the wisdom that puts briers on rose bushes. They find fault with other people – with their dress, their manner, their piety, their mode of worship, their work, their speech; nothing escapes their criticism.
All this is unlovely. It is presumptuous – what right have we to question the works of the divine Creator? What surpassing wisdom have we that makes us able to sit in judgment on all the world, lightly condemning all others, even the best men of our times? Who made us a judge of our fellow?
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