Every high-minded man has always lived in the future.  Take the sovereign prophet of the ancient faith.  The world about him is dark and desolate; Israel’s powers are at the ebb; the great faith that she has inherited is degraded, sensualized, formalized, buried under a debris of priestcraft, infidelity, idolatry and corruption; and yet this prophet stands upon the hills and dreams—­dreams against the present, dreams through all the darkness environing him—­and sees the day when the faith of Israel shall be the faith of the world; when the law of Israel shall dominate the conscience of the world; when the Savior of Israel shall be the Savior of the world, and when the Jehovah of Israel shall be the Jehovah of the world.  Standing high, his soul soaring, thinking lofty thoughts, he beholds Israel in glorious perspective as the nation that shall lead man from bondage to liberty, from darkness to light.  Or think again of the life, the history, the hope of Jesus, and behold in Him a perfect illustration of this truth; this truth that there is an intimate relationship between high living and high thinking, high doing, high willing and the vision of the future.  What right had Christ to hope at all?  What right had He to think of a Kingdom of God that was going steadily to conquer and take possession of this earth?  What right had He to think that His Gospel would come to be the regnant gospel over the minds of men?  What right had He to think that His own beautiful spirit would prevail over the perverse and rebellious will of society?  What right had he to think that the world would ever come to accept His marvelous beatitudes as truth?  What right had He to believe that the cross would ever be a universal symbol of salvation?  Judged from the near point of view, by immediate results, by the facts that were right before His eyes, history records no more conspicuous and terrible failure than the life of Jesus.  A Savior, and yet disbelieved in by the people; a Savior, and yet scorned by the multitude; a Savior, and yet called a “wine bibber” and a “glutton;” a Savior, and yet humiliated and degraded; a Savior, and yet dying ignominiously upon the cross.  Where is there any ample redemption, any glorious assertion of the mind, in these sad, gloomy, hopeless facts?  And yet He said, “I, if I be lifted up, shall draw all men unto Me.”  How did He dare make such a prophecy as that?  How did He dare arrogate to himself such a dominion as that?  Why, simply because, living in the altitudes, he had vision of things that must be.  He knew that He had righteousness in His heart, and that righteousness must at last be established.  He knew that His spirit was a spirit of peace and good will towards men, and that peace and good will towards men must ultimately prevail.  He lived on the heights, and He saw those things that were to be.  And now, what is true of these great men may be true of every one of us, according to the loftiness of our living.  Every one of us may command the future—­may, in a measure, prophesy and weigh the consequences, and calculate the issues of our own life; and every one of us can live a far larger, fuller and richer life, in the years that are to be than we can live in the past or in the time that is now.