we are to cast ourselves into the obscurity before us, and to bear in
our hearts the vision of the end, to cheer us amid the difficulties
of the road.

Life is strenuous, fruitful, and noble, in the measure in which its
ultimate aim is kept clearly visible throughout it all. Nearer aims,
prescribed by physical necessities, tastes, circumstances, and the
like, are clear enough, but a melancholy multitude of us have never
reflected on the further question: 'What then?' Suppose I have made
my fortune, or won my wife, or established my position, or achieved
a reputation, behind all these successes lies the larger question.
These are not ends but means, and it is fatal to treat them as being
the goal of our efforts or the chief end of our being. There would
be fewer wrecked lives, and fewer bitter and disappointed old men,
if there were more young ones who, at starting, put clearly before
themselves the question: 'What am I living for? and what am I going
to do when I have secured the nearer aims necessarily prescribed to
me?'

What that aim should be is not doubtful. The only worthy end
befitting creatures with hearts, minds, consciences, and wills like
ours is God Himself. Abram's 'Canaan' is usually regarded as an
emblem of heaven, and that is correct, but the land of our
inheritance is not wholly beyond the river, for God is the portion
of our hearts. He _is_ heaven. To dwell with Him, to have all
the current of our being running towards Him, to set Him before us
in the strenuous hours of effort and in the quiet moments of repose,
in the bright and in the dark days, are the conditions of
blessedness, strength, and peace.