“It grieves me more than all, my son, that you should go through any country and return no equivalent for deeds and kindness given.  Rest awhile, and in a few days return to the land and the people I sent you among, and come not back again to me till every farthing is wisely spent.”

The youth murmured within himself, but dared not reply.  A few days later he departed, to go over the same ground and do the work he had neglected for the sake of a speedy return.

At the end of the second year another returned, looking sad and dispirited.

“Thou hast soon returned, my son,” said the father.  “Is thy work done in so brief a period?”

The youth hung his head, and answered slowly, “I was so weary, father.  I saw so much sorrow among those people, I longed to come home where all is rest and peace.  Surely, I was right in that, was I not?”

“Far from it, my child.  If there was much sorrow there, that was the very reason why you should have remained.  Dost thou not remember those lines I have so often quoted,—­

“’Rest is not quitting the busy career: 
Rest is the fitting of self to one’s sphere’?”

“I remember them well, father,” the youth replied; “but I never felt their meaning until now.”

“And if you sense it now, my son, what is your duty?”

“To return, I suppose.”

“But how—­cheerfully or otherwise?”

“Gladly and willingly,” said the son, born from the old to the higher self.

“I will provide you with more means,” remarked his father, while a feeling of joy thrilled his being at the thought that his son was going to give his life to human needs.

They parted on the morrow, though that separation was the nearest approach of their lives; for they were united by a truth which is ever the essence of a divine union.  Many years passed by.  The hair of the father grew whiter, and his ears longed to hear the voices of his sons, yet he would not call, in word or feeling, so long as the busy throng was receiving or giving them life.

One evening, when his thoughts were taking a somewhat pensive turn, a messenger came to his door with a letter from the long-absent and eldest, who had not returned to his home since the day of his departure.  Its words were these:—­

“Dear Father,—­I cannot come to the home I love so well, nor to your side, while this land is so full of need of human words and deeds.  With your blessing I shall remain here my lifetime; and when age comes on, and I can no longer serve the people, may I return?”

The tears fell over the good man’s face.  God had blessed him greatly in bestowing on him so worthy a son; and he penned warm and glowing words of encouragement to his child, and sent by the messenger, with gold to alleviate the wants of the needy.

“Tell him a thousand blessings await him when his work is done,” said he to the messenger as the latter mounted his horse to ride away.