17 May: Boreham on Youth
Ideals of Youth
British Commonwealth Youth Sunday may serve to remind us that young people are characterised by passionate enthusiasms. For a leader who excites his admiration, or a cause that awakens his loyalty, or an idea that captivates his fancy, a youth will sacrifice the whole wide world and count that world well lost. The pity of it is that like the flowers of the forest those enthusiasms fade; in too many cases, cynicism takes the place of fervour.
In her "Spinner in the Sun," Myrtle Reed gives a conversation between a young doctor and an old one. The young physician is bubbling over with the lofty ideals of his profession; the older man smiles compassionately and tells him that his beautiful poetry will curdle into the veriest prose before so many suns have set.
Youth should be warned tomorrow of those forces that are calculated to destroy its fondest aspirations. One is the law of custom. We get used to things. A child's wildest adventure on his rocking-horse is his first ride. The second disappoints him as being less exciting; the third is a very tame affair; and, very soon, the gallant steed stands neglected in a corner.
Departure of Life’s Romance
Harold Fortescue tells of the emotions with which he learned that he was to leave school and work in a furniture factory. On the night before he assumed this new role, he could scarcely sleep. The factory, when he entered it, seemed a realm of enchantment. As he carried his basket of tools along the street he seemed to be treading on air. He felt a foot taller than he had ever done before. And, when the whistle blew at closing time it seemed to sound the death knell of all his happiness. But the novelty soon wore off; a time came when he was only too glad to throw down his tools and hurry home.
The world has been shaped by men who could snap their fingers at the monotony of life, keeping their virgin enthusiasm intact. Livingstone walked; nothing is more commonplace; but Livingstone kept on walking until he had opened up a new continent. Columbus sailed—it is the humdrum of the sea—but Columbus kept on sailing into the West until he had unveiled another world. He who can defeat the deadening influences of the law of custom is a prince among men.
Enthusiasm is a species of intoxication. The enthusiast enjoys the sense of elation. But he discovers after awhile that he is regarded as something of a faddist or a fanatic. Being of a companionable temperament and of social instincts, he resents the isolation. He therefore moderates the vehemence of his moral passion. Little by little, he conforms to the general usage. He speaks as others speak, does as others do, and, very gradually, comes to think as others think and feel as others feel. He lives on, but the enthusiasm within him is dead and buried.
All Things Get Out of Repair
One other hostile law is the law of deterioration. All things tend to crumble and decay; they need constant renovation. Our clocks run down; our clothes wear out; our goods and chattels get damaged and broken. The qualities of the inner life are subject to a similar law. If they are to survive, they must be constantly tended and renewed. As the body may easily become tired or sick so the soul of a man falls into disrepair. The enthusiasms of life wear out sooner or later. They must be carefully overhauled and restored, or the law of deterioration will be the death of them.
We all know a few old men who, exhibiting a certain peculiarity, endear themselves to all who know them. They are commonly but affectionately referred to, not as old men, but as old boys. They take as deep a delight as ever in the things that held their hearts half a century ago. They are fresh and alert; it is the most lovable trait in their attractive characters.
At their church parades tomorrow young people will be reminded of One who was as keen on saving the world when with a song on His lips, He stood beneath the shadow of the Cross as He was when He consecrated Himself to a life of sacrifice and service.
F W Boreham
Image: Young people.
British Commonwealth Youth Sunday may serve to remind us that young people are characterised by passionate enthusiasms. For a leader who excites his admiration, or a cause that awakens his loyalty, or an idea that captivates his fancy, a youth will sacrifice the whole wide world and count that world well lost. The pity of it is that like the flowers of the forest those enthusiasms fade; in too many cases, cynicism takes the place of fervour.
In her "Spinner in the Sun," Myrtle Reed gives a conversation between a young doctor and an old one. The young physician is bubbling over with the lofty ideals of his profession; the older man smiles compassionately and tells him that his beautiful poetry will curdle into the veriest prose before so many suns have set.
Youth should be warned tomorrow of those forces that are calculated to destroy its fondest aspirations. One is the law of custom. We get used to things. A child's wildest adventure on his rocking-horse is his first ride. The second disappoints him as being less exciting; the third is a very tame affair; and, very soon, the gallant steed stands neglected in a corner.
Departure of Life’s Romance
Harold Fortescue tells of the emotions with which he learned that he was to leave school and work in a furniture factory. On the night before he assumed this new role, he could scarcely sleep. The factory, when he entered it, seemed a realm of enchantment. As he carried his basket of tools along the street he seemed to be treading on air. He felt a foot taller than he had ever done before. And, when the whistle blew at closing time it seemed to sound the death knell of all his happiness. But the novelty soon wore off; a time came when he was only too glad to throw down his tools and hurry home.
The world has been shaped by men who could snap their fingers at the monotony of life, keeping their virgin enthusiasm intact. Livingstone walked; nothing is more commonplace; but Livingstone kept on walking until he had opened up a new continent. Columbus sailed—it is the humdrum of the sea—but Columbus kept on sailing into the West until he had unveiled another world. He who can defeat the deadening influences of the law of custom is a prince among men.
Enthusiasm is a species of intoxication. The enthusiast enjoys the sense of elation. But he discovers after awhile that he is regarded as something of a faddist or a fanatic. Being of a companionable temperament and of social instincts, he resents the isolation. He therefore moderates the vehemence of his moral passion. Little by little, he conforms to the general usage. He speaks as others speak, does as others do, and, very gradually, comes to think as others think and feel as others feel. He lives on, but the enthusiasm within him is dead and buried.
All Things Get Out of Repair
One other hostile law is the law of deterioration. All things tend to crumble and decay; they need constant renovation. Our clocks run down; our clothes wear out; our goods and chattels get damaged and broken. The qualities of the inner life are subject to a similar law. If they are to survive, they must be constantly tended and renewed. As the body may easily become tired or sick so the soul of a man falls into disrepair. The enthusiasms of life wear out sooner or later. They must be carefully overhauled and restored, or the law of deterioration will be the death of them.
We all know a few old men who, exhibiting a certain peculiarity, endear themselves to all who know them. They are commonly but affectionately referred to, not as old men, but as old boys. They take as deep a delight as ever in the things that held their hearts half a century ago. They are fresh and alert; it is the most lovable trait in their attractive characters.
At their church parades tomorrow young people will be reminded of One who was as keen on saving the world when with a song on His lips, He stood beneath the shadow of the Cross as He was when He consecrated Himself to a life of sacrifice and service.
F W Boreham
Image: Young people.
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