Labour may be a chastisement, but it is indeed a glorious one.
It is worship, duty, praise, and immortality,--for those who labour with the highest aims, and for the purest purposes.
There are many who murmur and complain at the law of labour under which we live, without reflecting that obedience to it is not only in conformity with the Divine will, but also necessary for the development of intelligence, and for the thorough enjoyment of our common nature.

Of all wretched men, surely the idle are the most so;--those whose life is barren of utility, who have nothing to do except to gratify their senses.

Are not such men the most querulous, miserable, and dissatisfied of all, constantly in a state of _ennui_, alike useless to themselves and to others--mere cumberers of the earth, who when removed are missed by none, and whom none regret?
Most wretched and ignoble lot, indeed, is the lot of the idlers.
Who have helped the world onward so much as the workers; men who have had to work for necessity or from choice?
All that we call progress--civilization, well-being, and prosperity--depends upon industry, diligently applied,--from the culture of a barley-stalk, to the construction of a steamship,--from the stitching of a collar, to the sculpturing of "the statue that enchants the world." All useful and beautiful thoughts, in like manner, are the issue of labour, of study, of observation, of research, of diligent elaboration.
The noblest poem cannot be elaborated, and send down its undying strains into the future, without steady and painstaking labour.

No great work has ever been done "at a heat." It is the result of repeated efforts, and often of many failures.

One generation begins, and another continues--the present co-operating with the past.