Making the Most of Life | Page 6

homes and
travellers on the highways were thrilled by the marvellous bell-notes
that fell from the chimes.
There are many lives which to those who dwell close beside them seem
to make no music. They pour out their strength in hard toil. They are
shut up in narrow spheres. They dwell amid the noise and clatter of
common task-work. They appear to be only striking wooden hammers
on rattling, noisy keys. There can be nothing pleasing to God in their
life, men would say. They think themselves that they are not of any use,
that no blessing goes out from their life. They never dream that sweet
music is made anywhere in the world by their noisy hammering. As the
bell-chimer in his little tower hears no music from his own ringing of
the bells, so they think of their hard toil as producing nothing but clatter
and clangor; but out over the world where the influence goes from their
work and character, human lives are blessed, and weary ones hear with
gladness sweet, comforting music. Then away off in heaven, where
angels listen for earth's melody, most entrancing strains are heard.

No doubt it will be seen at the last that many of earth's most acceptable
living sacrifices have been laid on the altar in the narrowest spheres and
in the midst of the hardest conditions. What to the ears of close
listeners is only the noise of painful toil is heard in heaven as music
sweet as angels' song.
The living sacrifice is "acceptable unto God." It ought to be a wondrous
inspiration to know this; that even the lowliest things we do for Christ
are pleasing to him. We ought to be able to do better, truer work, when
we think of his gracious acceptance of it. It is told of Leonardo da Vinci,
that while still a pupil, before his genius burst into brilliancy, he
received a special inspiration in this way: His old and famous master,
because of his growing infirmities of age, felt obliged to give up his
own work, and one day bade Da Vinci finish for him a picture which he
had begun. The young man had such a reverence for his master's skill
that he shrank from the task. The old artist, however, would not accept
any excuse, but persisted in his command, saying simply, "Do your
best."
Da Vinci at last tremblingly seized the brush and kneeling before the
easel prayed: "It is for the sake of my beloved master that I implore
skill and power for this undertaking." As he proceeded, his hand grew
steady, his eye awoke with slumbering genius. He forgot himself and
was filled with enthusiasm for his work. When the painting was
finished, the old master was carried into the studio to pass judgment on
the result. His eye rested on a triumph of art. Throwing his arms about
the young artist, he exclaimed, "My son, I paint no more."
There are some who shrink from undertaking the work which the
Master gives them to do. They are not worthy; they have no skill or
power for the delicate duty. But to all their timid shrinking and
withdrawing, the Master's gentle yet urgent word is, "Do your best."
They have only to kneel in lowly reverence and pray, for the beloved
Master's sake, for skill and strength for the task assigned, and they will
be inspired and helped to do it well. The power of Christ will rest upon
them and the love of Christ will be in their heart. And all work done
under this blessed inspiration will be acceptable unto God. We have but

truly to lay the living sacrifice on the altar; then God will send the fire.
We need to get this matter of consecration down out of cloud-land into
the region of actual, common daily living. We sing about it and pray
for it and talk of it in our religious meetings, ofttimes in glowing mood,
as if it were some exalted state with which earth's life of toil, struggle,
and care had nothing whatever to do. But the consecration suggested by
the living sacrifice is one that walks on the earth, that meets life's actual
duties, struggles, temptations, and sorrows, and that falters not in
obedience, fidelity, or submission, but follows Christ with love and joy
wherever he leads. No other consecration pleases God.
CHAPTER III.
CHRIST'S INTEREST IN OUR COMMON LIFE.
"So still, dear Lord, in every place Thou standest by the toiling folk
With love and pity in thy face, And givest of thy help and grace To
those who meekly bear the yoke."
One of our Lord's after-resurrection appearances vividly pictures his
loving interest in our common toil. While waiting for him to come to
Galilee, the disciples