gave Himself to the ministry of ideal things, exclusively to the
service of the spirit.

There is a wonderful satisfaction in making things, in looking over
some concrete piece of work accomplished when the day ends. It is a
satisfaction that belongs to the artisan. Is it not probable that many
said that it was a great pity when Jesus gave up so useful a trade as
His? To them He seemed to be but chasing the rainbow.

But to-day who possesses a single one of the things that young
carpenter made? And did we possess them all what better off would the
world be? Yet, on the other hand, how ill could this world afford to
lose what He gave it by those three years of the service of the ideal.

In our age of things we so easily forget how large is the place of the
ideal and the spiritual. Ever estimating our assets in the concrete,
we fail to recognize that our real wealth lies in thoughts and things
abstract. The permanent possessions of humanity are spiritual. Not
acres nor armies, not banks nor business make a nation, but mighty,
compelling ideals and traditions.

Jesus, Shakespeare, Browning, Lowell, Emerson left no goods and
chattels, no bonds and mortgages; they left inspirations; they
bequeathed ideals; living first for the soul, their souls survive and
remain to us all. The truly great who still stand after the test of
the years are those who have lived for the spirit.

This is as true of the worker and the warrior as of the philosopher and
poet. All were inspired by glowing visions; they set their affections
on things above the trifles for which we struggle and spend ourselves.