I saw a company of pilgrims on their way through life, and all the members of this company were bright and cheerful, though each one of them bore on his back a heavy burden. I went near and asked them what their burdens were.
“Mine,” said one, “is sickness.” “Mine,” said another, “is my dullness. I am so slow to learn.” “Mine,” said a third, “is the opposition of those with whom I have to work, and the envy of those who are about me.” Still a fourth answered that his burden was made up of failures, the failure of his undertakings even when he did his best to make them succeed. Another was heavily weighed down with the great burden of a terrible danger, and still another was staggering under a heavy load of doubt.
Yet all of this company trod cheerily on, singing beneath their burdens, and making the way as pleasant as they could for one another.
And as they went on I thought I saw a beautiful angel meet the company, and, going up, place in the burden on the back of each two small white seeds. The angel passed on, and I followed the company a little way.
To my astonishment, I saw something white spring from each of the heavy burdens that the pilgrims were carrying, and these white things grew before my very eyes until they became for each of them two magnificent white wings, that lifted the weary travellers from the dusty road, and carried them on, burdens and all, so that weariness was over for them, and they speedily got to their journey’s end.
On another day, walking along the same road of life, I saw a similar company of pilgrims, each also with a heavy burden on his back; but the appearance of the entire band was very different from that of the first. Every one was downcast, a dark cloud on his face, his head drooping, his lips close set in an ugly fashion. Few words were spoken as they trod painfully on, and those few words were only of grumbling and fault-finding.
I came upon the angel this second time, also, and when I saw that he was letting the band of pilgrims pass without placing in their burdens the two white seeds that sprang up into such beautiful wings, I asked him if he did not mean to give these pilgrims the same relief he gave the others, especially since they seemed to need it far more than the former company.
“It is impossible,” answered the angel; “and the saddest thing about it is that the travelers themselves have rendered it impossible. Those wonderful seeds will not grow in the burdens you see these men carry, just because everything about them is so dark and gloomy. Unless they get more sunshiny tempers, unless they sing a little, and try to help each other, and look with greater faith and courage toward God, I very much fear they must bear their burdens just as they are, and carry themselves painfully on foot to their journey’s end.”
This that I saw, boys and girls, will give you one hint, at least, of how burdens may be borne.