Such a man knows but too well how poor is the fruit of his supremest
effort, how marred by secret weakness is what the world calls his
strength, and when his gifts are in the balance, how hard it would be
for any seeing judge to distinguish his success from common failure.
It is the little pinchbeck man, whom wealth, accident, or cheap
cleverness has thrust forward, who grows vain over triumphs that are
not worth having, not the great doer of deeds, or the seer whose
imagination is wide enough to enable him to understand his own utter
insignificance in the scale of things.
But to return to General Booth. Again I hear him explaining to me vast
schemes, as yet unrealized, that lurk at the back of his vivid,
practical, organizing brain. Schemes for settling tens of thousands of
the city poor upon unoccupied lands in sundry portions of the earth.
Schemes for great universities or training colleges, in which men and
women might be educated to deal with the social problems of our age on
a scientific basis. Schemes for obtaining Government assistance to
enable the Army to raise up the countless mass of criminals in many
lands, taking charge of them as they leave the jail, and by
regenerating their fallen natures, saving them soul and body.
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