The Quiet Hour

Mt Benger Mail, 9 November 1938, Page 2

The Quiet Hour

THE DIVINE FRIEND There is no more loosely used word in the English language than the word “friend.” A friend is not a mere acquaintance. Our next-door neighbour is not necessarily our friend, neither is our partner nor our colleague. Our friend is our associate —our other self. He rejoices with us when we are glad, and grieves with us in our sorows. He will share his last crust with us if the need arise. Whatever others will do in the hour of need he will not fail us. And that is why men have always spoken of friendship in the most glowing terms, and have applied such superlative expressions to it as “the wine of life,” and “the masterpiece of the Divine workmanship.” The ancients pictured friendship as a young man, poor, but fair, with; his heart open like the interior of some of our drawing-room clocks. Then they wrote on the picture the laconic but suggestive words: “To live and die: in summer and winter: far and near.’’’ That, they said, is our conception of a friend. Like Our Shadow The rich and influential have no lack of friends—professed friends many of them. They gather around them like flies round honey. But let them suffer defeat in the battle of life, and, with an odd exceeption or two, they will disappear from their circle as the leaves disappear from the trees at the approach of winter. Shakespeare was so impressed with this that he wrote his ‘ ‘ Timon of Athens. ’ ’ And other men have been so impressed that they have bitterly said: “Our friends are like our shadow. When we walk in the sunshine they follow us, but when we cross over and walk in the, shade they leave us.” And yet there are friends, staunch friends, to be met with, as there have always been, who remain. with us in the winter of adversity. Poor, poor indeed, is the David who has not his Jonathan. He may not weep on his neck and create a scene almost tragic in its dramatic intenseness when he bids him farewell, but he will love him none the less, and will mourn his departure none the less. Magic Of His Friendship It is hard to say whether he is more fortunate or unfortunate who has no enemies. One would need to know what lies behind his experience to be able to judge. But this one has no difficulty in saying that it is better —is infinitely better—ito have a score of enemies and one friend than to have no enemies and no friend, for, as the proverb says, two are always better than one.

And this applies especially if we can say, “This is my'friend” of Him “who sticketh closer than a brother.” Happy is he or she who can say of some good, worthy man or woman, “This is my friend.” Thrice happy is the man or woman who can say that of Him. And, as the sun makes bright the dingiest and most threadbare room. He puts sunshine into the drabest life. And that is the magic of His friendship. •