Unless a man believes in the value of his work and the future of his cause, he cannot throw himself with all his energy into the tasks of his vocation.
But it is well to remember not merely that we have a right to be optimistic, but that optimism is imposed upon us almost as a duty. For optimism is a kind of courage. True optimism does not consist in building castles in the air and hiding like an ostrich from things as they are. Such a combination of sentimentality and timidity is removed by the world's breadth from true optimism. True optimism does not refuse to look facts in the face, nor does it indulge in futile day-dreams. It recognises the evil and misery in the world, it is conscious of ignorance and failure and sin, but it believes that its ideals are capable of being progressively realised in the world as it is. The optimistic man is perfectly courageous: optimism has been called "the horizon of courage." He is not deterred by the obstacles and hazards which he perceives in the path of moral progress. And when he fails, as often he must, in the moral struggle, his failure does not fill him with despair. Rather, it becomes the incentive to a fresh determination and renewed effort. It is "the sting that bids not sit, nor stand, but go."
Such an optimism is peculiarly necessary to us as teachers. For, though in no profession is it possible to have higher ideals, in none is it easier to be content with low ones. When we see how very inadequately some of those who cherish lofty ideals of their vocation succeed in fulfilling its tasks, and when we have ourselves conspicuously failed in achieving the great results for which we had hoped, we are
