And Yet I Still Hope That It May Ultimately Be For Good.
Through
water and fire must a nation be cleansed of its faults.
It has been
so with all nations, though the phases of their trials have been
different. It did not seem to be well with us in Cromwell's early
days; nor was it well with us afterward in those disgraceful years
of the later Stuarts. We know how France was bathed in blood in her
effort to rid herself of her painted sepulcher of an ancient throne;
how Germany was made desolate, in order that Prussia might become a
nation. Ireland was poor and wretched till her famine came. Men
said it was a curse, but that curse has been her greatest blessing.
And so will it be here in the West. I could not but weep in spirit
as I saw the wretchedness around me - the squalid misery of the
soldiers, the inefficiency of their officers, the bickerings of
their rulers, the noise and threats, the dirt and ruin, the terrible
dishonesty of those who were trusted! These are things which made a
man wish that he were anywhere but there. But I do believe that God
is still over all, and that everything is working for good. These
things are the fire and water through which this nation must pass.
The course of this people had been too straight, and their way had
been too pleasant. That which to others had been ever difficult had
been made easy for them. Bread and meat had come to them as things
of course, and they hardly remembered to be thankful. "We,
ourselves, have done it," they declared aloud. "We are not as other
men. We are gods upon the earth. Whose arm shall be long enough to
stay us, or whose bolt shall be strong enough to strike us?"
Now they are stricken sore, and the bolt is from their own bow.
Their own hands have raised the barrier that has stayed them. They
have stumbled in their running, and are lying hurt upon the ground;
while they who have heard their boastings turn upon them with
ridicule, and laugh at them in their discomforture. They are
rolling in the mire, and cannot take the hand of any man to help
them. Though the hand of the by-stander may be stretched to them,
his face is scornful and his voice full of reproaches. Who has not
known that hour of misery when in the sullenness of the heart all
help has been refused, and misfortune has been made welcome to do
her worst? So is it now with those once United States. The man who
can see without inward tears the self-inflicted wounds of that
American people can hardly have within his bosom the tenderness of
an Englishman's heart.
But the strong runner will rise again to his feet, even though he be
stunned by his fall. He will rise again, and will have learned
something by his sorrow.
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