Happiness is the voice of optimism, of faith, of simple, steadfast
love. No cynic or pessimist can be really happy. A cynic is a man who
is morally near-sighted,--and brags about it. He sees the evil in his
own heart, and thinks he sees the world. He lets a mote in his eye
eclipse the sun. An incurable cynic is an individual who should long
for death,--for life cannot bring him happiness, death might. The
keynote of Bismarck's lack of happiness was his profound distrust of
human nature.

There is a royal road to happiness; it lies in Consecration,
Concentration, Conquest and Conscience.

Consecration is dedicating the individual life to the service of
others, to some noble mission, to realizing some unselfish ideal. Life
is not something to be lived _through_; it is something to be
lived _up to_. It is a privilege, not a penal servitude of so many
decades on earth. Consecration places the object of life above the mere
acquisition of money, as a finality. The man who is unselfish, kind,
loving, tender, helpful, ready to lighten the burden of those around
him, to hearten the struggling ones, to forget himself sometimes in
remembering others,--is on the right road to happiness. Consecration is
ever active, bold and aggressive, fearing naught but possible
disloyalty to high ideals.

Concentration makes the individual life simpler and deeper. It cuts
away the shams and pretences of modern living and limits life to its
truest essentials. Worry, fear, useless regret,--all the great wastes
that sap mental, moral or physical energy must be sacrificed, or the
individual needlessly destroys half the possibilities of living. A
great purpose in life, something that unifies the strands and threads