Acres of Diamonds [37]
will come and fill them,'' he likes to say. The same effort that wins a small success would, rightly directed, have won a great success. ``Think big things and then do them!''
Most favorite of all maxims with this man of maxims, is ``Let Patience have her perfect work.'' Over and over he loves to say it, and his friends laugh about his love for it, and he knows that they do and laughs about it himself. ``I tire them all,'' he says, ``for they hear me say it every day.''
But he says it every day because it means so much to him. It stands, in his mind, as a constant warning against anger or impatience or over-haste --faults to which his impetuous temperament is prone, though few have ever seen him either angry or impatient or hasty, so well does he exercise self-control. Those who have long known him well have said to me that they have never heard him censure any one; that his forbearance and kindness are wonderful.
He is a sensitive man beneath his composure; he has suffered, and keenly, when he has been unjustly attacked; he feels pain of that sort for a long time, too, for even the passing of years does not entirely deaden it.
``When I have been hurt, or when I have talked with annoying cranks, I have tried to let Patience have her perfect work, for those very people, if you have patience with them, may afterward be of help.''
And he went on to talk a little of his early years in Philadelphia, and he said, with sadness, that it had pained him to meet with opposition, and that it had even come from ministers of his own denomination, for he had been so misunder- stood and misjudged; but, he added, the momentary somberness lifting, even his bitter enemies had been won over with patience.
I could understand a good deal of what he meant, for one of the Baptist ministers of Philadelphia had said to me, with some shame, that at first it used actually to be the case that when Dr. Conwell would enter one of the regular ministers' meetings, all would hold aloof, not a single one stepping forward to meet or greet him.
``And it was all through our jealousy of his success,'' said the minister, vehemently. ``He came to this city a stranger, and he won instant popularity, and we couldn't stand it, and so we pounced upon things that he did that were altogether unimportant. The rest of us were so jealous of his winning throngs that we couldn't see the good in him. And it hurt Dr. Conwell so much that for ten years he did not come to our conferences. But all this was changed long ago. Now no minister is so welcomed as he is, and I don't believe that there ever has been a single time since he started coming again that he hasn't been asked to say something to us. We got over our jealousy long ago and we all love him.''
Nor is it only that the clergymen of his own denomination admire him, for not long ago, such having been Dr. Conwell's triumph in the city of his adoption, the rector of the most powerful and aristocratic church in Philadelphia voluntarily paid lofty tribute to his aims and ability, his work and his personal worth. ``He is an inspiration to his brothers in the ministry of Jesus Christ,'' so this Episcopalian rector wrote. ``He is a friend to all that is good, a foe to all that is evil, a strength to the weak, a comforter to the sorrowing, a man of God. These words come from the heart of one who loves, honors, and reverences him for his character and his deeds.''
Dr. Conwell did some beautiful and unusual things in his church, instituted some beautiful and unusual customs, and one can see how narrow and hasty criticisms charged him, long ago, with sensationalism--charges long since forgotten except through the hurt still felt by Dr. Conwell himself. ``They used to charge me with making a circus of the church--as if it were possible for me to make a circus of the church!'' And his tone was one of grieved amazement after all these years.
But he was original and he was popular, and therefore there were misunderstanding and jealousy. His Easter services, for example, years ago, became
Most favorite of all maxims with this man of maxims, is ``Let Patience have her perfect work.'' Over and over he loves to say it, and his friends laugh about his love for it, and he knows that they do and laughs about it himself. ``I tire them all,'' he says, ``for they hear me say it every day.''
But he says it every day because it means so much to him. It stands, in his mind, as a constant warning against anger or impatience or over-haste --faults to which his impetuous temperament is prone, though few have ever seen him either angry or impatient or hasty, so well does he exercise self-control. Those who have long known him well have said to me that they have never heard him censure any one; that his forbearance and kindness are wonderful.
He is a sensitive man beneath his composure; he has suffered, and keenly, when he has been unjustly attacked; he feels pain of that sort for a long time, too, for even the passing of years does not entirely deaden it.
``When I have been hurt, or when I have talked with annoying cranks, I have tried to let Patience have her perfect work, for those very people, if you have patience with them, may afterward be of help.''
And he went on to talk a little of his early years in Philadelphia, and he said, with sadness, that it had pained him to meet with opposition, and that it had even come from ministers of his own denomination, for he had been so misunder- stood and misjudged; but, he added, the momentary somberness lifting, even his bitter enemies had been won over with patience.
I could understand a good deal of what he meant, for one of the Baptist ministers of Philadelphia had said to me, with some shame, that at first it used actually to be the case that when Dr. Conwell would enter one of the regular ministers' meetings, all would hold aloof, not a single one stepping forward to meet or greet him.
``And it was all through our jealousy of his success,'' said the minister, vehemently. ``He came to this city a stranger, and he won instant popularity, and we couldn't stand it, and so we pounced upon things that he did that were altogether unimportant. The rest of us were so jealous of his winning throngs that we couldn't see the good in him. And it hurt Dr. Conwell so much that for ten years he did not come to our conferences. But all this was changed long ago. Now no minister is so welcomed as he is, and I don't believe that there ever has been a single time since he started coming again that he hasn't been asked to say something to us. We got over our jealousy long ago and we all love him.''
Nor is it only that the clergymen of his own denomination admire him, for not long ago, such having been Dr. Conwell's triumph in the city of his adoption, the rector of the most powerful and aristocratic church in Philadelphia voluntarily paid lofty tribute to his aims and ability, his work and his personal worth. ``He is an inspiration to his brothers in the ministry of Jesus Christ,'' so this Episcopalian rector wrote. ``He is a friend to all that is good, a foe to all that is evil, a strength to the weak, a comforter to the sorrowing, a man of God. These words come from the heart of one who loves, honors, and reverences him for his character and his deeds.''
Dr. Conwell did some beautiful and unusual things in his church, instituted some beautiful and unusual customs, and one can see how narrow and hasty criticisms charged him, long ago, with sensationalism--charges long since forgotten except through the hurt still felt by Dr. Conwell himself. ``They used to charge me with making a circus of the church--as if it were possible for me to make a circus of the church!'' And his tone was one of grieved amazement after all these years.
But he was original and he was popular, and therefore there were misunderstanding and jealousy. His Easter services, for example, years ago, became