And then, too, these hammers and axes are not wielded without strain or pang, but swung by the millions of toilers who labor with their cries and groans and tears.

Nay, our temple building, whether it be for God or man, exacts its bitter toll, and fills life with cries and blows.

The thousand rivalries of our daily business, the fierce animosities when we are beaten, the even fiercer exultation when we have beaten, the crashing blows of disaster, the piercing scream of defeat--these things we have not yet gotten rid of, nor in this life ever will.

Why should we wish to get rid of them?
We are here, my brother, to be hewed and hammered and planed in God's quarry and on God's anvil for a nobler life to come." Only the muscle that is used is developed.
"Troubles are often the tools by which God fashions us for better things," said Beecher.

"Far up the mountain side lies a block of granite, and says to itself, 'How happy am I in my serenity--above the winds, above the trees, almost above the flight of birds! Here I rest, age after age, and nothing disturbs me.' "Yet what is it?
It is only a bare block of granite, jutting out of the cliff, and its happiness is the happiness of death.
"By and by comes the miner, and with strong and repeated strokes he drills a hole in its top, and the rock says, 'What does this mean ?' Then the black powder is poured in, and with a blast that makes the mountain echo, the block is blown asunder, and goes crashing down into the valley.