"He that will not work," said St. Paul, "neither shall he eat;" and the
apostle glorified himself in that he had laboured with his own hands,
and had not been chargeable to any man.
There is a well-known story of an old farmer calling his three idle sons
around him when on his deathbed, to impart to them an important secret.
"My sons," said he, "a great treasure lies hid in the estate which I am
about to leave to you." The old man gasped. "Where is it hid?" exclaimed
the sons in a breath. "I am about to tell you," said the old man; "you
will have to dig for it----" but his breath failed him before he could
impart the weighty secret; and he died. Forthwith the sons set to work
with spade and mattock upon the long neglected fields, and they turned
up every sod and clod upon the estate. They discovered no treasure, but
they learnt to work; and when fields were sown, and the harvests came,
lo! the yield was prodigious, in consequence of the thorough tillage
which they had undergone. Then it was that they discovered the treasure
concealed in the estate, of which their wise old father had advised
them.
Labour is at once a burden, a chastisement, an honour, and a pleasure.
It may be identified with poverty, but there is also glory in it. It
bears witness, at the same time, to our natural wants and to our
manifold needs.
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