There never has been a time in our history when work was so

When Benjamin Harrison, the 23rd President of the United States, proclaimed, “There never has been a time in our history when work was so abundant or when wages were as high, whether measured by the currency in which they are paid or by their power to supply the necessaries and comforts of life,” he spoke with the confidence of an age on the rise — an era when industry, innovation, and labor seemed to promise an endless ascent. His words reflect the spirit of optimism and progress that defined America at the end of the 19th century, when factories hummed, railroads expanded like arteries across the land, and the idea of prosperity appeared within reach for all who were willing to toil. Yet, beneath his proud declaration lies a deeper reflection — a meditation on the relationship between labor, abundance, and gratitude, and a reminder that the greatness of a nation rests not only in its wealth, but in how that wealth uplifts the people who create it.

The origin of this quote lies in the late 1880s, a time when the United States was emerging from the turbulence of war and reconstruction into the dawn of the Industrial Age. Harrison, a man of stern morality and civic faith, believed deeply in the virtues of hard work and national progress. He spoke these words not merely to celebrate economic success, but to reassure a people standing at the crossroads of transformation. Steam and steel had changed the world; machines had magnified human strength; cities were growing, and with them, a new class of workers — men and women whose sweat built the engines of modernity. Harrison’s statement, therefore, was both recognition and reassurance: recognition of the prosperity earned through labor, and reassurance that the moral covenant between effort and reward still held firm.

When he said that “work was abundant,” he invoked one of the oldest promises of civilization — that through toil, man finds purpose, dignity, and sustenance. The abundance of work was not merely a matter of employment; it was a sign of a living, breathing nation in motion. Yet in his mention of “wages as high,” Harrison reached deeper, pointing to the idea that prosperity must be measured not only by coins, but by the power to sustain life with comfort and dignity. In his eyes, the true strength of a society was not in the accumulation of wealth alone, but in how fairly that wealth was distributed among those who labored to produce it.

Consider the story of Andrew Carnegie, the Scottish immigrant who rose from poverty to become one of the great industrialists of Harrison’s era. Carnegie’s steel empire stood as a symbol of the prosperity Harrison described — built by the sweat of thousands and the brilliance of a few. Yet even as the furnaces roared and the wages grew, the age of abundance was shadowed by unrest: long hours, unsafe conditions, and the widening chasm between labor and capital. When the Homestead Strike of 1892 erupted, it revealed the hidden cost of prosperity — that progress without compassion can turn abundance into conflict. Harrison’s words, viewed through this lens, become more than celebration; they are a warning veiled in pride, reminding us that true abundance must be balanced by justice.

There is also a timeless truth in his observation. Every age, when prosperous, believes itself to stand at the pinnacle of human achievement. Yet history teaches that abundance is never permanent, and that the real measure of a civilization is how it uses its prosperity — whether to build temples of greed or foundations of fairness. Harrison’s statement, therefore, speaks across the centuries: it reminds us that moments of great material progress are also moments of great moral testing. Will we use our wealth to strengthen the bonds of community, or will we let it divide us into castes of privilege and despair? The answer to that question determines whether abundance becomes a blessing or a burden.

Harrison’s confidence in labor and progress can also be seen as a call to gratitude. In every age, those who reap the fruits of comfort must remember the hands that planted the seeds. The abundance of work he celebrated was the result of millions of humble efforts — the farmer in his field, the blacksmith at his forge, the teacher shaping the minds of children. To forget this, to take prosperity for granted, is to risk losing the very spirit that created it. For the prosperity of a nation is not a gift bestowed from above; it is the cumulative strength of its workers, the faith of its dreamers, and the perseverance of its builders.

So, O listener of this modern age, take heed of Benjamin Harrison’s ancient truth. Celebrate abundance, but do not worship it. Work with pride, but remember mercy. Measure your success not only in gold, but in the warmth of homes, the fullness of tables, and the fairness of opportunity. For if work is indeed abundant and wages high, let that abundance flow toward wisdom, compassion, and community.

And finally, let this be your lesson: prosperity is both gift and test. The abundance of one generation becomes the inheritance of the next — but whether that inheritance endures depends on how it is used. Labor without gratitude becomes exploitation; wealth without justice becomes decay. Therefore, as Harrison saw in his time, so must we see in ours — that the greatness of a nation lies not in how high its wages rise, but in how deeply its people care for one another in the season of plenty, and how faithfully they preserve that care when the season of hardship returns.