Thou hast known of the
existence of suffering, and thine indolence has prevented thee from
going abroad to relieve it. Did thy Master thus? Did he not _go
about_ to do good? Did he not sit down to meat with publicans and
sinners? Can you stand here, and look out upon such a night as this,
and not think of those who are exposed to its bitterness? Can thy
human heart beat only for itself when thou thinkest of the thousand
miseries crying to Heaven for relief? Resolve, now, before thy head
touches its comfortable pillow, that with the morning's dawn thou
wilt resolutely set about thy work; or, rather, thy Master's work."
"It is very hard," still muttered Mr. Cleveland to himself, "that
these thoughts will continually intrude themselves upon me. They
give me no peace of my life. Stifle them as I may, they come with
tenfold force. People have no business to be poor. I was poor once,
and nobody gave charity to me. I had to help myself up in the world
as well as I could. I hate poor people; I hate unfortunate people;
in fact, confound it! I hate the world and everybody in it."
Then answered once again the still, small voice: "For shame, Mr.
Cleveland, for shame! You will ruin your soul if you thus darken the
light within.
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