In the January, 1916, Ladies’ Home Journal there is an excellent editorial bearing upon this subject, as follows:
A mother got to worrying about the girl to whom her son had become engaged. She was a nice girl, but the mother felt that perhaps she was not of a type to stimulate the son sufficiently in his career. The mother wisely said nothing, however, until two important facts dawned upon her:
First, that possibly her boy was of the order which did not need stimulation. As she reflected upon his nature, his temperament, she arrived at the conclusion that what he required in a life partner might be someone who would prove a poultice rather than a mustard plaster or a fly blister.
This was her first discovery.
The second was not precisely like unto it, but was even more important—that the son, and not the mother, was marrying the girl. The question as to whether or not the girl would suit the mother as a permanent companion was a minor consideration about which she need not vex her soul. The point he had settled for himself was that here, by God’s grace, was the one maid for him; and since that had been determined the wise course was for the mother not to waste time and energy bemusing (worrying) herself over the situation, especially as the girl offered no fundamental objections.
Thus the mother, of herself,
learned a lesson that many
another mother might profitably learn.
How wonderfully in his Saul does Robert Browning set forth the opposite course to that of the worrier. Here, the active principle of love and trust are called upon so that it uplifts and blesses its object. David is represented as filled with a great love for Saul, which would bring happiness to him. He strives in every way to make Saul happy, yet the king remains sad, depressed, and unhappy. At last David’s heart and his reason grasp the one great fact of God’s transcending love, and the poem ends with a burst of rapture. His discovery is that, if his heart is so full of love to Saul, that in his yearning for his good, he would give him everything, what must God’s love for him be? Of his own love he cries:
Could I help thee, my father, inventing
I would add, to that life of the past, both the future and
I would give thee new life altogether,
as good, ages hence,
At this moment,—had love but the warrant love’s heart to
Then, when God’s magnificent love bursts upon him he sings in joy:
—What, my soul? see thus far and no farther? When doors great and small
Nine-and-ninety flew ope at our touch, should the hundredth appall?
How utterly absurd, on the face of it, is such a supposition. God having given so much will surely continue to give. His love so far proven so great, it will never cease.