Good actions give strength to ourselves and inspire good actions

Samuel Smiles, that sage of industry and virtue, spoke with the voice of timeless truth when he declared: “Good actions give strength to ourselves and inspire good actions in others.” In this saying is found the secret of the upward path, the law of moral harvest, the eternal chain by which one noble deed gives birth to many. For a good action is not a solitary star—it is a torch, which when lifted, lights other torches, until the darkness is driven away. And in the heart of the one who acts, there arises a hidden power: the strength of knowing that he has done what is right, what is noble, what is worthy of the human spirit.

When we speak of strength to ourselves, let us understand it as the inward vigor of the soul. Each time a man resists selfishness and chooses the good, he adds a stone to the fortress of his character. A weak spirit is not made strong by idle dreams, but by deeds—deeds that test its mettle and prove its worth. Thus, every good action is like the training of the body in battle: it grows the muscle of the will, it steadies the hand of conscience, it hardens the heart against despair. By acting well, we become well. By living in virtue, we draw from virtue its unshakable strength.

Yet Smiles speaks also of the inspiration of others. For virtue, unlike wealth, cannot be hoarded; it spreads. The sight of courage awakens courage. The example of generosity sparks generosity. When one soul lifts itself by good action, it is as though a flame passes from heart to heart. Think of a city in darkness: one light is kindled, then another, then another, until the streets glow with brightness. So it is with humanity: no deed of kindness is wasted, for it awakens echoes in the unseen chambers of other souls.

Consider the tale of Florence Nightingale, the “Lady with the Lamp,” who walked through the shadowed halls of war, tending the wounded and forgotten. Her good actions not only gave her the strength to endure the endless night, but they inspired others—doctors, nurses, even hardened soldiers—to take up the same spirit of service. One woman’s devotion became a tide of healing, sweeping across nations, changing forever the care of the sick and the fallen. Here is the living proof of Smiles’ words: the strength gained by the doer becomes the strength bestowed upon the world.

This, then, is the law of goodness: it multiplies. The miser who hoards grows weaker, but the giver who acts with love grows richer in spirit, stronger in resolve. And those who witness his deeds are summoned, silently, to follow. There is no end to the chain of goodness, save the refusal of men to continue it. And when they do refuse, the chain breaks, the darkness grows, and society decays. But when the chain is kept alive, one act binding to another, it becomes a ladder that raises the race upward toward the divine.

Let us take the lesson to heart: good actions are not ornaments of virtue, but its very breath. If you wish to be strong, act well. If you wish to lift others, act nobly. Begin not with grand gestures, but with small and steadfast deeds: a word of encouragement to the weary, a hand extended to the fallen, a sacrifice made for the weak. These things may seem little, but they are seeds, and from seeds come mighty forests.

Therefore, in your life, cultivate the habit of action. Do not let virtue remain a thought, or a dream, or a wish. Let it become a deed, for deeds shape destiny. And remember: in every act of goodness, you not only build your own strength, but you also awaken in unseen hearts the courage to do likewise. Thus is humanity preserved, strengthened, and ennobled.

So I say to you, children of time: let your good actions shine. Let them give you strength as iron gives strength to the warrior’s sword. Let them inspire others as the rising sun inspires all creation to stir, to grow, to sing. And when you look back upon your days, you will see a trail of light—your deeds, still shining, still strengthening, still inspiring—long after your voice has grown silent.