Nothing so deadens the
sympathies and shrivels the power of enjoyment as the persistent
keeping away from the great opportunities for helpfulness and a
continual ignoring of the starvation struggle which makes up the
life of at least half the race. To shut one's self away from that
half of the race life is to shut one's self away from the most
vital part of it; it is to live out but half the humanity to which
we have been born heir and to use but half our faculties. We have
all had longings for a fuller life which should include the use of
these faculties. These longings are the physical complement of
the "Intimations of Immortality," on which no ode has yet been
written. To portray these would be the work of a poet, and it is
hazardous for any but a poet to attempt it.
You may remember the forlorn feeling which occasionally seizes
you when you arrive early in the morning a stranger in a great
city: the stream of laboring people goes past you as you gaze
through the plate-glass window of your hotel; you see hard
working men lifting great burdens; you hear the driving and
jostling of huge carts and your heart sinks with a sudden sense
of futility. The door opens behind you and you turn to the man
who brings you in your breakfast with a quick sense of human
fellowship.
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