Sursum Corda

( Originally Published 1922 )

THERE is a brief Latin saying which holds in two words, the best philosophy of the human race. It is, Sursum corda—lift up your hearts!

Why despair of this world? All the joy you have ever known has been here. It is true there may be better beyond, but as Thoreau said, "One world at a time !"

And now let us reason a little. Are you sure you have given the world a fair trial—or rather have you let it give you a fair trial? Softly now; the first words will not do to answer this question—remember it is not I who interrogate, but your fate.

Can you expect anything but failure when you lie down and accept defeat in advance? Anything but sorrow when you set your house for mourning? Anything but rejection when you carry dismay in your face, telling all the world of your hope forlorn?

I went to my friend asking cheerily and confidently for a thing that seemed hopeless: smiling and without a second thought, he gave me what I asked. Again I went to my friend asking humbly and with little heart of grace for a thing that I yet knew was hopeful: frowning he denied my prayer. With what brow thou askest shalt thou be answered.

Lift up your hearts!

A word in your ear: Have you ever had a trouble or a sorrow that would for a moment weigh with the sure knowledge that you were to die next week, next month, next year? Be honest now ! . . .

A little while ago I was very ill, and it seemed to me that if only I could get up from my bed, nothing ever would trouble me again. Well, in time I was able to get up, and then the old worries came sneaking back, one after another. Even as I write, they are grinning and mowing at my elbow, telling me that my work is futile. I know I am happy and well now, but they are always trying to persuade me to the contrary. I know that my hope was never so reasoned and strong, the future never so gravely alluring; but they will have it that I am an utter bankrupt in my hopes and the way onward closed to me. I know my friends —my real friends—were never more true and fond and faithful than they are to-day—they whisper darkly of broken faith, evil suspicion, and the treason of the soul.

Out upon the liars! It is I that am in fault to give them a moment's hearing. The broken faith, the treason, the distrust—if any such there be—are mine alone; for in my own breast were these serpents hatched, and the poison I drink is of my own brewing.

Lift up your hearts!

Hast thou no cause to be happy ?—look well now. Thou wast sick and thou art now whole. Weary, thou didst lay down a beloved task, not hoping ever to take it up again; yet see! it is in thy hands. Is not the wife of thy youth ever with thee, still fair and kind and blooming? Thou dreamest a haggard dream of poverty, while thy house is filled with the divine riches of love and ringing with the joyous mirth of thy children. The musicians of hope pipe to thee and thou wilt not dance; victory smiles on thee anear, and thou wilt think only of defeat. Look!—it is but a little way and thou droopest with the long wished-for haven in sight. . .

Lift up your hearts !

Yesterday the a olian harp was silent all day in the window, not a fugitive air wooing it to music. Today it is wild with melody from every wind of the world. So shall the brave music of thy hopes be renewed.

Have no care of the silent, barren yesterdays—they are only good to carry away all your mistakes, all your maimed purposes, all your vain brooding, all your weak irresolution, all your cowardice. Concentrate on To-DAY and your soul shall be strong to meet To-morrow. Hope, Courage, Energy—and You!—against whatever odds. . . .