Contentment in Christian preaching emphasizes a deep satisfaction rooted in God's provision and grace rather than worldly wealth or circumstances. It often uses images contrasting fleeting riches with lasting joy, such as simplicity, gratitude amid trials, and the peace found in accepting God's will (Philippians 4:11-13; 1 Timothy 6:6-8). This theme encourages believers to find true happiness in godliness and trust rather than in material abundance.
American soldiers' simple meal contrasted with British officers' luxury teaches contentment and humility.
During the Revolutionary War in America, a few British officers, the bearers of a flag of truce, were invited by the general of the Insurgents to stop and dine with him. As a result of this courtesy, they were ushered into a tent where an officer was roasting some potatoes on a camp stove. Expecting an elaborate table, the British officers were astonished when the officer preparing the meal wiped away the ashes from the potatoes, and placed them on the table as the dinner for the general and his company.
When the British officers returned to their own camp, they contrasted the American soldiers' fare with their own expensive fare. They justifiably reflected on the difficulty of their self-indulgent habits and their need of contentment under all circumstances. The Blind Man and the Lantern
A blind man was discovered sitting at the corner of a city street with a lantern beside him. When he was asked why the lantern was there since light and darkness were the same to him, he replied, "I have it so that no one may stumble over me."
What a message for Christians who have the light!
A grumbler finds fault even in blessings, showing a lack of contentment and gratitude.
A lady who was an incurable grumbler complained about everything and everybody. But, finally, the minister thought he had found something about which she could make no complaint: the old lady's crop of potatoes was certainly the finest for miles around. "Ah, for once you must be pleased," he said with a beaming smile as he met her in the village street. "Everyone is saying how splendid your potatoes are this year." The old lady glared at him as she answered, "They are not so bad, but where are the rotten ones for the pigs?"
Greed makes people never satisfied, always wanting just a little more than they have.
It's a strange thing that some people can never have enough of the world; but no matter how little of the Lord they have, they seem to feel it is enough. When I was a lad an old gentleman took some trouble to teach me a little knowledge of the world. With this in view, I remember, he once asked me when is a man rich enough? I replied, "When he has a million dollars." He said, "No." "Two million?" "No." "Ten million?" "No"; "A hundred million?" which I thought would settle the question. He still continued to say, "No." I gave up and confessed I could not tell and asked him to tell me. He gravely said, "When he has a little more than he already has, and that is never."
Poverty can bring deeper family bonds and happiness than wealth often does.
It was Andrew Carnegie who said, "Comrades, I was born in poverty and would not exchange its sacred memories with the richest millionaire's son who ever breathed. What does he know about mother or father? These are mere names to him. Give me the life of the boy whose mother is nurse, seamstress, washerwoman, cook, teacher, angel, and saint, all in one, and whose father is guide, exemplar, and friend-no servants to come between. These are the boys who are born to the best fortune. Some men think that poverty is a dreadful burden and that wealth leads to happiness. What do they know about it? They know only one side; they imagine the other. I have lived both, and I know there is very little in wealth that can add to human happiness beyond the small comforts of life. Millionaires who laugh are rare. My experience is that wealth is apt to take the smiles away."
Riches, honors, and pleasures do not guarantee genuine happiness in life.
The historian, Gibbon, tells us that Abdulrahman, of the Muslim Caliphs of Spain, built for his pleasure the city, palace, and gardens of Zehra, beautifying them with the costliest marbles, sculptures, gold, and pearls. He had sixty-three hundred persons-wives, concubines, and eunuchs-at his service. His guard had belts and scimitars studded with gold. At his death, the following authentic memorial was found: "I have now reigned above fifty years in victory and peace.... Riches, honors, power, pleasure-the days of pure and genuine happiness which have fallen to my lot: they amount to fourteen."
Material wealth is useless without meeting essential needs like hunger.
An Arab, losing his way in the desert, was in danger of dying from hunger. At last he found one of the cisterns out of which the camels drink and a little leather bag near it. "God be thanked!" exclaimed he. "Ah, here are some dates or nuts; let me refresh myself." He opened the bag, but only to turn away in disappointment. Alas, they were only pearls, and what good were they to a man who was dying of hunger? Was this man rich or poor? He was rich yet poor.
Pursuing worldly riches wears out life and fails to satisfy true needs.
In our constant struggle to acquire things for the preservation of life we wear out life itself. Wise is he who said: "Worldly riches are like nuts: many clothes are torn in getting them, many a tooth broken in cracking them, and never a belly filled with eating them." Jesus gives us very excellent advice which we shall do well to heed, "Don't wear yourselves out for things which perish so easily."
Rich men often lack joy, making wealth a heavy burden rather than a blessing.
A businessman once overtook a black man trudging through the snow, humming to himself. He talked with him and found that he was very poor. Finally he asked him if he didn't think he'd be happier if he were rich. "No, Boss, all the rich men I work for never laugh." That Which Makes a Deathbed Terrible
A minister once visited a notable rich man. He was shown all the gardens, the beautiful estate, the statutes, pictures, etc. The rich man was very anxious to see what ideas all these things would arouse in the mind of the minister. He confidently expected a faltering compliment. Instead the preacher said, "Ah, David, David, these are the things which make a deathbed terrible."
True happiness is not found in riches but in contentment with God's provision.
The Persians tell a story about an unhappy king. In an attempt to find the answer to his dissatisfaction, he consulted his astrologers who told him he could find happiness by wearing the coat of a perfectly happy man. Immediately the king set out on his quest. He knocked at the doors of the very rich, for it seemed logical to find happiness there, but in vain. He visited the institutions of higher learning, thinking the erudite must be happy in their wisdom. That, too, proved a dead end. Finally he stumbled across a common laborer singing at his work who confessed he was perfectly happy. "Sell me your coat," cried the king. "I'll give you a bag of gold for it." But the laborer only laughed and said, "I'd gladly give it to you, Sir, but I have no coat." This is only a legend of course, but it illustrates a profound truth. Achieving riches is not synonymous with achieving happiness. That doesn't mean the rich have to become poor in order to be happy. The ranks of the happy include both poor and rich as well as those in between. King Solomon had the right idea when he prayed, "Give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me: lest I be full, and deny thee, and say, Who is the Lord? or lest I be poor, and steal, and take the name of my God in vain" (Proverbs 30:8-9). Paul said it even more succinctly when he wrote to Timothy, "Godliness with contentment is great gain" (1 Timothy 6:6).
Wealth cannot extend life or bring lasting satisfaction beyond basic needs.
"You are to be more envied than anyone I know," said a young man to a millionaire. "Why so?" responded the millionaire. "I am not aware of any cause for which I should be envied." "What, sir!" exclaimed the young man in surprise. "Why, you are a millionaire! Think of the thousands your income brings every month!" "Well, what of that?" replied the millionaire. "All I get out of it is my food and clothes, and I can't eat more than one man's allowance and wear more than one suit of clothes at a time. Even you can do as much as I can, can't you?" "Yes, but think of the hundreds of fine houses you own, and the rentals they bring you." "What good does that do me?" replied the rich man. "I can only live in one house at a time. As for the money I receive for rents, why, I can't eat or wear it; I can only use it to buy other houses for other people to live in; they are the beneficiaries, not I." Then, finally, after a little more discussion, the millionaire turned to the young man and said: "I can tell you that the less you desire in this life, the happier you will be. All my wealth can't buy a single day more of life, cannot buy back my youth, cannot procure power to keep off the hour of death. Then what will happen? In a few short years at most I must lie down in the grave and leave it all forever. Young man, you have no cause to envy me."
Contentment comes from accepting life's circumstances, whether gain or loss.
Two little teardrops were floating down the river of life. One said to the other, "Who are you?" It replied, "I am a teardrop from a girl who loved a man and lost him. Who are you?" The first responded, "Well, I am a teardrop from the girl who got him!"
Life is like that. We cry over things we cannot have. If we only knew it, we would probably cry more if we had received them. Paul had the right idea when he said, "I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content" (Philippians 4:11).
Contentment with one's life station leads to peace and praises God.
"If we could learn to frame our minds to our estates, as the skilful musician letteth down the strings a peg lower when the tune requireth it, we should pass to heaven more comfortably." Yes, we are as a rule pitched too high. We look for more in this life than it will ever yield us. If we could be satisfied with less we should be less dissatisfied. It is a great pity when men try to live above their means, for it often ends in their hardly having the means to live at all. Probably there is as much happiness in one station of life as in another if it is suitable to us, and we are able to fill it: the misery of life must be when a man has a little less than he needs and a great deal less than he aspires to. Contentment is the crown jewel of a happy life. We shall have enough, for the promise guarantees us our portion; why need we fret after more? "Here little and hereafter much," as Bunyan says, is best for us. O Lord, grant me grace to live above this world; and wherein I must live upon it, and think about it, help me to have few desires and no cares. Tune my nature so that without fail my life may make music to thy praise.
God provides exactly what we need; contentment comes from trusting His provision.
"A garment too short will not cover our nakedness, and a garment too long will be a dirty rag to trip up our heels. God is bound in covenant only to do what is convenient for us, and that we must leave to God to judge. The sheep must not choose the pastures, but the shepherd." O for contentment! "Too much," we see by the figure used above, has its inconveniences as well as "too little." Enough is the word, and God knows best when we are at that point. We see around us those who are much hindered in holy living by the fact of their being wealthy, and yet perhaps we are pining to run in their silken sack. Others we see who are impeded by their poverty, and yet this need not be, for some of the Lord's poor are far ahead of other runners, and keep up all the better pace because they have so little to carry. Come, my heart, be satisfied. It should be no hard task to thee to be content, seeing all things are thine, and thy Father acts as thy steward, and deals out daily "things convenient" for thee. The garment which he puts around thee fits thee in every part; blessed art thou if thou canst wear it becomingly and praise him for it.
TIMBER. SHEEP. WAX.
"We warp in the sunshine, a shower does us good. The dog is let loose that the sheep may run together. A piece of wax, when it is broken, put it together never so often, it will not close; but put it into the candle and the ends will stick close together." Thus by three figures we see the danger of prosperity and the benefit of affliction. The first metaphor is impressive. Timber warps if it be exposed to noontide heat, and men are all too apt to be influenced one way or another by success. Poor fools that we are, we cannot, while on earth, bear too much happiness. It is our tendency to warping which often necessitates our weeping. The Lord will sooner damp us with showers of sorrow than allow us to be spoiled. The dog to fetch back the wandering sheep is a well-known illustration. Some need to feel the dog's teeth before they will mind him, and God has dogs which will bite if barking is not enough. Our good Shepherd will sooner worry us with the dog of affliction than leave us to the wolf of apostasy. The broken stick of wax prettily shows how we need suffering if we are to be set right after the fractures of temptation. How well the broken heart of a sinner unites with the heart of the suffering Saviour! There must be melting, or there will not be union. Blessed be God for any experience by which he unites our heart to fear his name.
Ambition never satisfies; true enjoyment comes from contentment with what one already has.
Cineas, when dissuading Pyrrhus from undertaking a war against the Romans, said, "Sir, when you have conquered them, what will you do next?" — "Then Sicily is near at hand, and easy to muster." — "And what when you have conquered Sicily?" — "Then we will pass over to Africa, and take Carthage, which cannot long withstand us." — "When these are conquered, what will be your next attempt?" — "Then," said Pyrrhus, "we will fall in upon Greece and Macedon, and recover what we have lost there." — "Well, when all are subdued, what fruit do you expect from all your victories?" — "Then," said he, "we will sit down and enjoy ourselves." — "Sir," replied Cineas, "may we not do it now? Have you not already a kingdom of your own? And he that cannot enjoy himself with a kingdom, cannot with the whole world."
True satisfaction comes from pleasing even a single sincere listener.
While Parmenides was addressing an Athenian assembly, he continued his discourse, though all had left him except Plato. He said that Plato was audience sufficient for him.
A miser's sorrow shows the misery of valuing treasure over contentment.
"What an unfortunate wretch am I!" complained a miser to his neighbor. "Some one last night has taken away the treasure which I buried in the garden, and laid a cursed stone in its place." —"And yet you have never used your treasure," answered his neighbor. "Only bring yourself to believe that the stone is still your treasure, and you are none the poorer."—"If I am none the poorer," returned the miser, "is not some one else the richer? The thought is enough to drive me mad."
— Prof. Lessing
True contentment values spiritual riches over worldly honors or positions.
John Wessels of Groningen, who was one of the most learned men in the fifteenth century, and was, on account of his extensive attainments, called "the light of the world," having been once introduced into the presence of the pope, was requested by that pontiff to ask for some favor for himself. "Then," said Wessels, "I beg you to give me out of the Vatican Library a Greek and a Hebrew Bible."—"You shall have them," said Sixtus; "but, foolish man, why don't you ask for a bishopric or something of that sort?" Said Wessels, "Because I do not want such things."
Contentment comes from focusing on heaven and recognizing earthly troubles are temporary.
A bishop of the early Church, who was a remarkable example of this virtue, was asked its secret. The venerable old man replied, "It consists in nothing more than making a right use of my eyes. In whatever state I am, I first of all look up to heaven, and remember that my principal business here is to get there; I then look down upon the earth, and call to mind how small a place I shall occupy in it when I die and am buried; I then look abroad in the world, and observe what multitudes there are who are in all respects more unhappy than myself: thus I learn where true happiness is placed, where all our cares must end, and what little reason I have to repine or complain."
Gratitude in adversity reveals God's special mercies in every circumstance.
A poor widow living in a house open to the snow in winter, and who could have no fire when the wind blew, exclaimed, "How favored I am! for when it is coldest, the wind does not blow, and I can have a fire." When rheumatism had disabled one of her feet, she exclaimed again, "How favored I am! I once lost the use of both my feet." Thus in every calamity she saw some especial mercy.
Contentment depends on perspective, not on external conditions or possessions.
The captain of a whaleship told one of the wretched natives of Greenland, that he sincerely pitied the miserable life to which he was condemned. "Miserable!" exclaimed the savage. "I have always had a fishbone through my nose, and plenty of train-oil to drink: what more could I desire?"
Contentment is learning to be satisfied with what God provides daily.
Learn to be contented with your condition. Is that animal better that hath two or three mountains to graze on than a little bee that feeds on dew or manna, and lives on what falls every morning from the clouds, the storehouses of heaven? Can a man quench his thirst better out of a river than a full cup, or drink better from the fountain which is finely paved with marble than when it wells over the green turf?
— Jeremy Taylor
Faith and love enable contentment even in poverty and suffering.
There is a kind of dialogue betwixt one Dr. Thalerus, and a poor man that lay begging by the highway side. "Good-morrow, poor man!" said the doctor. "I never had any bad morrow," said the beggar. "No!" said the doctor. "Thou art a miserable poor man; thou art as good as naked, without any clothes on thy back, no friends, nor any one to relieve thee, — how can it, then, be true that thou sayest, thou never hadst any bad morrow?" — "I'll tell you," says the beggar: "whether I am sick or in health, whether it be warm or cold weather, whether I be clothed or naked, rich or poor, I bless God for all." — "Oh! but friend," said the doctor, "what if Christ should cast thee into hell?" — "If he should," says he, "I would be contented; but I have two arms, — the one of faith, the other of love, — wherewith I would lay such fast hold on him, that I would have him along with me; and then I am sure that hell would be heaven if he were there." Spencer.
Contentment grows by recognizing how little we truly need to be happy.
A philosopher who was passing through a mart filled with articles of taste and luxury, made himself quite happy with this simple yet sage reflection, "How many things there are here that I do not want!"
Contentment is wise when life is short and we have enough for our journey.
If a traveller hath but enough to bring him to his journey's end, he desires no more. We have but a day to live, and perhaps we may be now in the twelfth hour of that day; and, if God give us but enough to bear our charges till night, it is sufficient: let us be content. If a man had the lease of a house or farm but for two or three days, and he should fall a building or planting, would he not be judged very indiscreet? So, when we have but a short time here, and death calls us presently off the stage, to thirst immoderately after the world, and pull down our souls to build up an estate — were it not extreme folly? Spencer.
True contentment comes from having enough, not from abundance of possessions.
A king, walking out one morning, met a lad at the stable-door, and asked him, "Well, boy, what do you do? What do they pay you?"—"I help in the stable," replied the lad; "but I have nothing except victuals and clothes." "Be content," replied the king: "I have no more."
Contentment banishes desire for riches, producing effects like the philosopher's stone.
Contentment produces, in some measure, all those effects which the alchemist usually ascribes to the philosopher's stone; and, if it does not bring riches, it does the same thing, by banishing the desire of them. Addison.
Riches cannot bring true joy or contentment to a troubled mind or body.
A man diseased in body can have little joy of his wealth, be it ever so much. A golden crown cannot cure the headache, nor a velvet slipper give ease to the gout, nor a purple robe fray away a burning fever; a sick man is alike sick wherever you lay him, — on a bed of gold, or on a pad of straw; with a silk quilt, or a sorry rag on him: so no more can riches, gold or silver, land and livings, had a man ever so much, minister unto him much joy, yea, or any true joy at all, where the mind is distract and discontent. Without contentment, there is no joy of aught, there is no profit, no pleasure in any thing. Spencer.
Contentment is reducing desires, not increasing wealth, to find satisfaction.
Contentment consisteth not in adding more fuel, but in taking away some fire; not in multiplying of wealth, but in subtracting men's desires. Worldly riches, like nuts, tear many clothes in getting them, but fill no belly with eating them, obstructing only the stomach with toughness, and filling the bowels with windiness. Yea, your souls may sooner surfeit, than be satisfied with earthly things. He that at first thought ten thousand pounds too much for any one man will afterwards think ten million too little for himself. T. Fuller.
True happiness comes from more religion and faithful worship, not from more wealth.
Said a venerable farmer, some eighty years old, to a relative who had lately visited him, "I have lived on this farm for more than half a century. I have no desire to change my residence as long as I live on earth. I have no desire to be any richer than I now am. I have worshipped the God of my fathers with the same people for more than forty years. During the time, I have rarely been absent from the sanctuary on the sabbath, and have never lost one communion season. I have never been confined to my bed by sickness a single day. The blessings of God have been richly spread around me, and I made up my mind long ago, that, if I wished to be happier, I must have more religion." Dr. Haven.
True contentment is faithful diligence in current responsibilities, not restless ambition.
It is not to be the content of indifference, of indolence, of unambitious stupidity, but the content of industrious fidelity. When men are building the foundations of vast structures, they must needs labor far below the surface, and in disagreeable conditions. But every course of stone which they lay raises them higher; and at length, when they reach the surface, they have laid such solid work under them, that they need not fear now to carry up their walls, through towering stories, till they overlook the whole neighborhood. A man proves himself fit to go higher, who shows that he is faithful where he is. A man that will not do well in his present place, because he longs to be higher, is fit neither to be where he is, nor yet above it: he is already too high, and should be put lower. Beecher.
True contentment requires freedom from covetous ambition; otherwise, it is never found.
It is one property, which, they say, is required of those who seek for the philosopher's stone, — that they must not do it with any covetous desire to be rich; for otherwise they shall never find it. But most true it is, that whosoever would have the jewel of contentment (which turns all into gold, yea, want into wealth) must come with minds divested of all ambitious and covetous thoughts, else are they likely never to obtain it. Spencer.
People often disparage what they cannot have to ease their disappointment.
A certain fox of Gascony, some say of Normandy, almost dying with hunger, saw some grapes at the top of a trellis. He would willingly have made a repast of them; but as he could not reach them, in spite of all his efforts, he said on going away, "They are too sour: they are good only for blackguards."
Changing circumstances may worsen troubles; contentment is better than restless change.
We often make troublesome changes without amendment, and, frequently, for the worse. In my youth, I was passenger in a little sloop descending the River Delaware. There being no wind, we were obliged, when the tide was spent, to cast anchor, and wait for the next. The heat of the sun on the vessel was excessive; the company strangers to me, and not very agreeable. Near the river-side I saw what I took to be a pleasant green meadow, in the middle of which was a large shady tree, where it struck my fancy I could sit and read, having a book in my pocket, and pass the time agreeably, until the tide turned. I therefore prevailed with the captain to put me ashore. Being landed, I found the greatest part of my meadow was really a marsh, in crossing which, to come at my tree, I was up to my knees in mire; and I had not placed myself under its shade five minutes, before mosquitoes in swarms found me out, attacked my legs, hands, and face, and made my reading and my rest impossible: so that I returned to the beach, and called for the boat to come and take me on board again, where I was obliged to bear the heat I strove to quit, and also the laugh of the company.
— Dr. Franklin
A man regrets complaining about children after losing them despite gaining wealth.
A person with not very ample means of support was burthened with a large family. A neighbor had just called to tell him of a friend who had got a prize in the lottery, when he was also informed of the birth of his twelfth child. He exclaimed peevishly, "God sends meat to others, children to me." It so happened, that God, at whose government he had so impious ly murmured, sent him those riches he longed for; but, as he sent him the wished-for wealth, he deprived him of the children he had complained of. He saw them one by one go to the grave before him; and in advanced life and great affluence, when he endured the stroke of having his last beloved daughter taken from his eyes, he bitterly remembered his former rebellious murmurings against God.
— Whitecross
People cursed the sun's heat, forgetting it was their source of life and blessings.
Herodotus tells us of a people in Africa, who lived in the neighborhood of Mount Atlas, whose daily custom was to curse the sun when he rises high in the heavens, because his excessive heat scorched and tormented them. We have always thought this a fine illustration of discontent, which overlooks blessings and dwells upon evils. Did the Atarantians forget, that, to the sun they cursed, they were indebted for light, for food, for the fertility of their country, for ten thousand blessings, without which their continued existence had been impossible? Did they think what their condition would have been, had the sun they cursed left the ungrateful complainers for a month in darkness? His absence for but half that time would have made them pray for his return as their benefactor, as heartily even as they cursed him as their tormentor. Family Treasury.
Complaints about one trouble overlook that other situations bring different troubles.
Mr. Cecil, riding one day with a friend in a very windy day, the dust being very troublesome, his companion wished that they could ride in the fields, where they would be free from dust; and this wish he repeated more than once while on the road. At length, they reached the fields, when the flies so teased his friend's horse, that he could scarcely keep his seat on the saddle. On his bitterly complaining, "Ah! sir," said Mr. Cecil, "when you were in the road, the dust was your only trouble, and all your anxiety was to get into the fields; you forgot that the fly was there. Now, this is a true picture of human life, and you will find it so in all the changes you make in future. We know the trials of our present situation; but the next will have trials, and perhaps worse, though they may be of a different kind."
— Whitecross
A fish and a bird envy each other until experiencing each other's conditions and repenting.
A canary and a gold-fish had their lot thrown together in the same room. One hot day, the master of the house heard the fish complaining of his dumb condition, and envying the sweet song of his companion overhead, "Oh! I wish I could sing as sweetly as my friend up there!" whilst the canary was eying the inhabitant of the globe, "How cool it looks! I wish my lot were there!"—"So, then, it shall be," said the master, and forthwith placed the fish in the air, and the bird in the water; whereupon they saw their folly, and repented of their discontent. Of which the moral is sooner drawn than practised,—let every man be content in the state in which Providence has placed him, and believe that it is what is best fitted for him. Bowes.
Discontentment causes people to always seek more, never finding true happiness in any condition.
They that are not content with their present condition are like little children upon a hill; and they look a good way off, and see another hill, and think, if they were on the top of that, then they were able to touch the clouds with their fingers; but, when they are on top of that hill, alas! they are as far from the clouds as before. So it is with many who think another condition would give them happiness, but, when the desired position is attained, find themselves as far from contentment as before.
Striving to improve a tolerable condition often leads to greater misfortune and regret.
"Let well enough alone." The misfortunes of most men occur through a struggle to improve a tolerable condition. The epitaph is in point, "I was well; I wished to be better; I took physic: and here I am."
Inner attitude determines whether external circumstances cause dissatisfaction or peace.
"I think the rain was very provoking!" said Bessie Jones, looking out of the window with an angry frown upon her brow. "It always rains when I don't want it. It is spoiling the slides, and there won't be an inch of ice left in an hour to skate on. Now, where's my fun this afternoon, I should like to know?"—"You can stay at home, and sew," said her aunt.—"I want to skate," said Bessie. "This rain is very provoking."—"The provoking is all in your own heart, Bessie," said her brother. "If you only had blue sky inside, you would not mind the rain outside."
Childlike simplicity leads to contentment, unlike adults' constant dissatisfaction.
A mother, who sought health and contentment by journeying from place to place, was thus admonished by her little son, aged four years when he heard that they were about to star for another place: "Oh, ma! you are never satisfied: I am satisfied." We should be happier if we could be always children.
Human desire escalates endlessly, causing perpetual dissatisfaction despite abundance.
Give a man the necessaries of life, and he wants the conveniences; give him the conveniences, and he craves for the luxuries; grant him the luxuries, and he sighs for the elegances; let him have the elegances, and he yearns for the follies; give him all together, and he complains that he has been cheated both in the price and quantity of the articles.
Employment promotes health and happiness; idleness leads to misery.
Healthfulness of. Ein ployment, which Galen calls "Nature's physician," is so essential to human happiness, that indolence is justly considered the mother of misery. Burton.
Wealth without preparation or contentment can bring misery instead of joy.
I knew a man who had amassed great wealth, but had no children to inherit it. Smitten with the vain and strange propensity to found a house, or make a family, as it is called, he left his riches to a distant relative. His successor found himself suddenly raised from poverty to affluence, and thrown into a position which he had not been trained to fill. He was cast into the society of those to whose tastes and habits and accomplishments he was an utter and an awkward stranger. Did many envy the child of fortune? They might have spared their envy. Left in his original obscurity, he had been a happy peasant, whistling his way home from the plough to a thatch-roofed cottage, or in winter nights, around the blazing fagots, laughing loud and merry among unpolished boors. Child of misfortune!—he buried his happiness in the grave of his benefactor. Neither qualified by nature, nor fitted by education, for his position, he was separated from his old, only to be despised by his new associates. And how bitterly was he disappointed to find, that in exchanging poverty for opulence, daily toil for injurious indolence, humble friends for more distinguished companions, a hard bed for one of down, this turn in his fortunes had flung him on a couch, not of roses, but of thorns! In his case, the hopes of the living and the intentions of the dead were alike frustrated. The prize had proved a blank,—a necessary result of the fatal over sight that the heir had not been made meet for the inheritance. Is such training needed for an earthly estate? How much more for the "inheritance of the saints in light"?
— Dr. Guthrie
Contentment grows when we recognize our position above many others in God's order.
It should help to keep us from envying others, when we consider how many there are above whom we are placed. Instead of fretting that they are preferred before us in honor, power, estate, or interest, in gifts, graces, or usefulness, we have reason to bless God for their good influence, and that we, who are less than the least, are not put hindmost. Henry.
Excess in pleasures leads to harm, while moderation brings true contentment and comfort.
Honey is delightful; but too much breeds choler and disease. Fragrant flowers are sweet to smell, and, moderately used, refresh the brain; but excess causes headache. Light is pleasant to the eyes; but too much staring into sunbeams dazzles or blinds them. Moderate joys and delights are ever best, least hurtful, most contentful, and comfortable to our spirits; whereas intemperance, immoderateness, and excess mar all pleasure and delight, though themselves never so pleasant and delightful.
— Spencer
Virtue is tested more by good fortune than by bad fortune.
We do not know what is really good or bad fortune. — Rousseau. — It requires greater virtues to support good than bad fortune. — La Rochefoucauld. — Good or bad fortune generally pursues those who have the greatest share of either.
— Ibid
We should manage our fortune with patience and enjoyment, like we do our health.
We should manage our fortune as we do our health, — enjoy it when good, be patient when it is bad, and enjoy it any way.
Many envy what others have without appreciating their own blessings.
If we did but know how little some enjoy of the great things they possess, there would not be much envy in the world. Young.
Everyone has something that prevents complete happiness in this world.
Sir Walter Scott and another had a discussion on earthly happiness, in the streets of Edinburgh; when one appealed to a simple lad called Dull Jamie, to know if he was not perfectly happy. He assented; but Sir Walter said, "Is there a nothing a va that troubles you, Jamie?"—"O uie, sir: I wud be uneo weal and happy war it not for that hubble jack that follow me a' the time, 'crying. Hubble, hubble, hubble!' — "Now," said Sir Walter, "you will find that every person has something in this world, either real or imaginary, that keeps him from being completely happy."
