Attempt > Volume 1 and Select writings

254
THE ATTEMPT
that other landing place, where the scattered bones lie bleaching of those who have
made shipwreck on that doleful beach.
Is there no hope of rest then for us, no escape from this demon of change, which
leaves nothing stable in the earth; not our purposes or determinations, for circumstance
rules them all; not our bodies, for they pass away like the grass ; not even the earth
itself, for there
“ The giant ages heave the hill,
And break the shore, and evermore
Make and break, and work their will.”
Must we fill our goblets with wine which has been spiced by death, and empty them
to the bitter toast, “ Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die ?” Hot so; we can
look at the matter with other eyes than these. We have sought the opinion of a
philosopher, let us seek now that of a poet, whose words have in them the clang of a
psean, the fervour of a prophecy :—
“ I rather hold it better, men should perish one by one,
Than that earth should stand at gaze like Joshua’s moon in Ajalon !
Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range ;
Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.”
Change is but another name for Progress and is the safeguard of the world against
stagnation : without it, there would be monotony worse than death, satiety more bitter
than parting. Progress—that is, progression towards perfection is one of the great laws
of the universe. Nature and man have alike a destiny to work out, and must, through
storm and toil, develope their highest capabilities ere they can attain repose. There are
worlds of science and learning for us to conquer still, untold volumes of wisdom for us
to peruse; and whether we speak of the race collectively, or of the individual mem¬
bers of it, we feel that there is work lying ready to our hands which will tax our
energies to the utmost. The distance then shall truly not beacon to us in vain, but
shall show a steady light to guide us on that ocean of which we spoke before. We
may drive on cheerily, reflecting that each boat receives a welcome to the haven, for
she brings home another mariner from the great fleet, whose sails dot the waters so
thickly from horizon to horizon. The haven, too, we steer for, is a safe and sheltered
one. There, and there only, is no more change of a painful kind, only the change
from one happiness to another yet greater. The voyage will be over then, and the
voyagers at rest; the storm will have darkened the sky for the last time, and the
white breakers shall raise their angry crests nevermore, for “ there shall be no more
sea.”