complains and "strikes" when his wages and his hours do not suit
him; but a doctor going from house to house, and in spite of all
discouragements carrying cheer and hope; a city missionary going
to the degraded, the ignorant, and by his own efforts helping his
fellow-men to a better life, to a knowledge of God--these are
noble lives. You can see I am sure the difference, and you will
not gainsay me when I assure you that the doctor and the
missionary, though they may not be satisfied with themselves, or
with their manner of working, are happy men, happy because they
live outside of themselves. The coal miner who is not content with
his wages is miserable, because he himself and his needs loom up
before him so large that every thing else is shut out. It is
because you take a hard task and do it well, that so much praise
is given to nurses. If you undertake a difficult task and fret
over it all the time you are doing it, if you propose to benefit
your fellow creatures and grumble because you have not comforts,
or appreciation, or gratitude, where does the nobility go? Where
is the heroism? If the task is easy, agreeable, delightful, the
idea of heroism, of nobility, of all high aspiration dies
directly. Did any one ever do a grand work and have an easy time
while doing it? Did Florence Nightingale have all the comforts of
life when she did her great work? Was it not by her indomitable
perseverance, her great patience, and her enthusiasm for others
that she won such an honored place for herself? You know almost
before I say it, that there can be no loftiness of purpose, no
enthusiasm, if there are not difficulties to be conquered, and you
all know that complaining about sick people will never alter their
characteristics, and that complaining about the nervousness of the
relatives will never make less unreasoning, when they are fearful
that a loved one is going to die.