7/100 Manhood

7. Manhood

Manhood is the isthmus between two extremes—the ripe, the fertile season of action, when alone we can hope to find the head to contrive united with the hand to execute.

Each age has its peculiar duties and privileges, pleasures and pains. When young we trust ourselves too much; when old we trust others too little. Rashness is the error of youth, timid caution of age. In youth we build castles and plan for ourselves a course of action through life. As we approach old age we see more and more plainly that we are simply carried forward by a mighty torrent, borne here and there against our will. We then perceive how little control we have had in reality over our course; that our actions, resolves, and endeavors, which seemed to give such a guiding course to our life,

"Are but eddies of the mighty stream

That rolls to its appointed end."

In childhood time goes by on leaden wings,—ten, twenty years, a life-time seems an endless period. At manhood we are surprised that time goes so rapidly; we then comprehend the fleeting period of life. In old age the years that are passed seem as a dream of the night, our life as a tale nearly told. Childhood is the season of dreams and high resolves; manhood, of plans and actions; age, of retrospection and regret.

There is certainly no age more potential for good or evil than that of early manhood. The young men have, with much propriety, been denominated the flower of a country. To be a man and seem to be one are two different things. All young men should carefully consider what is meant by manhood. It does not consist in years simply, nor in form and figure. It lies above and beyond these things. It is the product of the cultivation of every power of the soul, and of every high spiritual quality naturally inherent or graciously supplemented. It should be the great object of living to attain this true manhood. There is no higher pursuit for the youth to propose to himself. He is standing at the opening gates of active life. There he catches the first glimpse of the possibilities in store for him. There he first perceives the duties that will shortly devolve upon him. What higher aim can he propose to himself than to act his part in life as becomes a man who lives not only for time but for eternity? How earnestly should he resolve to walk worthily in all that true manhood requires!

There are certain claims, great and weighty, resting upon all young men which they can not shake off if they would. They grow out of those indissoluble relations which they sustain to society, and those invaluable interests—social, civil, and religious—with all the duties and responsibilities connected with them, which are soon to be transferred to their shoulders from the venerable fathers who have borne the burden and heat of the day. The various departments of business and trust, the pulpit and the bar, our courts of justice and halls of legislation, our civil, religious, and literary institutions, all, in short, that constitute society and go to make life useful and happy, are to be in their hands and under their control.

Society, in committing to the young her interests and privileges, imposes upon them corresponding claims, and demands that they be prepared to fill with honor and usefulness the places which they are destined to occupy. Young men can not take a rational view of the station to which they are advancing, or of the duties that are coming upon them, without feeling deeply their need of high and peculiar qualifications.

Every young man should come forward in life with a determination to do all the good he can, and to leave the world the better for his having lived in it. He should consider that he was not made for himself alone, but for society, for mankind, and for God. He should consider that he is a constituent, responsible member of the great family of man, and, while he should pay particular attention to the wants and welfare of those with whom he is immediately connected, he should accustom himself to send his thoughts abroad over the wide field of practical benevolence.

There is within the young man an uprising of lofty sentiments which contribute to his elevation, and though there are obstacles to be surmounted and difficulties to be vanquished, yet with truth for his watchword, and relying on his own noble purposes and exertions, he may crown his brow with imperishable honors. He may never wear the warrior's crimson wreath, the poet's chaplet of bays, or the statesman's laurels; though no grand, universal truth may at his bidding stand confessed to the world; though it may never be his to bring to a successful issue a great political revolution; to be the founder of a republic which shall be a distinguished star in the constellation of nations; even more, though his name may never be heard beyond the narrow limits of his own neighborhood, yet is his mission none the less a high and noble one.

In the moral and physical world not only the field of battle but also the cause of truth and virtue calls for champions, and the field for doing good is white unto the harvest. If he enlists in the ranks, and his spirits faint not, he may write his name among the stars of heaven. Beautiful lives have blossomed in the darkest places, as pure, white lilies, full of fragrance, sometimes bloom on the slimy, stagnant waters. No possession is so productive of real influence as a highly cultivated intellect. Wealth, birth, and official station may and do secure an external, superficial courtesy, but they never did and never can secure the reverence of the heart. It is only to the man of large and noble soul—to him who blends a cultivated mind with an upright heart—that men yield the tribute of deep and genuine respect. A man should never glory in that which is common to a beast; nor a wise man in that which is common to a fool; nor a good man in that which is common to a wicked man.

Since it is in the intellect that we trace the source of all that is great and noble in man it follows that if any are ambitious to possess a true manhood they will be men of reflection, men whose daily acts are controlled by their judgment, men who recognize the fact that life is a real and earnest affair, that time is fleeting, and, consequently, resolve to waste none of it in frivolities; men whose life and conversation are indicative of that serious mien and deportment which well becomes those who have great interests committed to their charge, and who are determined that in so far as in them lies life with them shall be a success, who fully realize the importance of every step they may take, and, consequently, bring to it the careful consideration of a mind trained to think with precision.

The man who thinks, reads, studies, and meditates has intelligence cut in his features, stamped on his brow, and gleaming in his eye. Thinking, not growth, makes perfect manhood. There are some who, though they are done growing, are only boys. The constitution may be fixed while the judgment is immature; the limbs may be strong while the reasoning is feeble. Many who can run and jump and bear any fatigue can not observe, can not examine, can not reason or judge, contrive or execute—they do not think. Such persons, though they may have the figure of a man and the years of a man, are not in possession of manhood; they will not acquire it until they learn to look beyond the present, and take broad and comprehensive views of their relations to society.

As we often mistake glittering tinsel for solid gold, so we often mistake specious appearances for true worth and manhood. We are too prone to take professions and words in lieu of actions; too easily impressed with good clothes and polite bearings to inquire into the character and doings of the individual. Man should be rated, not by his hoards of gold, not by the simple or temporary influence he may for a time exert, but by his unexceptionable principles relative both to character and religion. Strike out these and what is he? A savage without sympathy! Take them away, and his manship is gone; he no longer lives in the image of his Creator. No smile gladdens his lips, no look of sympathy illumes his countenance to tell of love and charity for the woes of others.

But let man go abroad with just principles, and what is he? An exhaustless fountain in a vast desert! A glorious sun, shining ever, dispelling every vestige of darkness. There is love animating his heart, sympathy breathing in every tone. Tears of pity—dew-drops of the soul—gather in his eye, and gush impetuously down his cheek. A good man is abroad, and the world knows and feels it. Beneath his smile lurks no degrading passion; within his heart there slumbers no guile. He is not exalted in mortal pride, not elevated in his own views, but honest, moral, and virtuous before the world. He stands throned on truth; his fortress is wisdom, and his dominion is the vast and limitless universe. Always upright, kind, and sympathizing; always attached to just principles, and actuated by the same, governed by the highest motives in doing good; these constitute his only true manliness.