It is not sufficient to say that some believers in Darwinism retain their belief in Christianity; some survive smallpox. As we avoid smallpox because many die of it, so we should avoid Darwinism because it leads many astray.

If it is contended that an instructor has a right to teach anything he likes, I reply that the parents who pay the salary have a right to decide what shall be taught. To continue the illustration used above, a person can expose himself to the smallpox if he desires to do so, but he has no right to communicate it to others. So a man can believe anything he pleases but he has no right to teach it against the protest of his employers.

Acceptance of Darwin's doctrine tends to destroy one's belief in immortality as taught by the Bible. If there has been no break in the line between man and the beasts—no time when by the act of the Heavenly Father man became "a living Soul," at what period in man's development was he endowed with the hope of a future life? And, if the brute theory leads to the abandonment of belief in a future life with its rewards and punishments, what stimulus to righteous living is offered in its place?

Darwinism leads to a denial of God. Nietzsche carried Darwinism to its logical conclusion and it made him the most extreme of anti-Christians. I had read extracts from his writings—enough to acquaint me with his sweeping denial of God and of the Saviour—but not enough to make me familiar with his philosophy.

As the war progressed I became more and more impressed with the conviction that the German propaganda rested upon a materialistic foundation. I secured the writings of Nietzsche and found in them a defense, made in advance, of all the cruelties and atrocities practiced by the militarists of Germany. Nietzsche tried to substitute the worship of the "Superman" for the worship of God. He not only rejected the Creator, but he rejected all moral standards. He praised war and eulogized hatred because it led to war. He denounced sympathy and pity as attributes unworthy of man. He believed that the teachings of Christ made degenerates and, logical to the end, he regarded Democracy as the refuge of weaklings. He saw in man nothing but an animal and in that animal the highest virtue he recognized was "The Will to Power"—a will which should know no let or hindrance, no restraint or limitation.

Nietzsche's philosophy would convert the world into a ferocious conflict between beasts, each brute trampling ruthlessly on everything in his way. In his book entitled "Joyful Wisdom," Nietzsche ascribes to Napoleon the very same dream of power—Europe under one sovereign and that sovereign the master of the world—that lured the Kaiser into a sea of blood from which he emerged an exile seeking security under a foreign flag. Nietzsche names Darwin as one of the three great men of his century, but tries to deprive him of credit (?) for the doctrine that bears his name by saying that Hegel made an earlier announcement of it. Nietzsche died hopelessly insane, but his philosophy has wrought the moral ruin of a multitude, if it is not actually responsible for bringing upon the world its greatest war.

His philosophy, if it is worthy the name of philosophy, is the ripened fruit of Darwinism—and a tree is known by its fruit.

In 1900—over twenty years ago—while an International Peace Congress was in session in Paris the following editorial appeared in L'Univers:

"The spirit of peace has fled the earth because evolution has taken possession of it. The plea for peace in past years has been inspired by faith in the divine nature and the divine origin of man; men were then looked upon as children of one Father and war, therefore, was fratricide. But now that men are looked upon as children of apes, what matters it whether they are slaughtered or not?"

I have given you above the words of a French writer published twenty years ago. I have just found in a book recently published by a prominent English writer words along the same line, only more comprehensive. The corroding influence of Darwinism has spread as the doctrine has been increasingly accepted. In the American preface to "The Glass of Fashion" these words are to be found: "Darwinism not only justifies the sensualist at the trough and Fashion at her glass; it justifies Prussianism at the cannon's mouth and Bolshevism at the prison-door. If Darwinism be true, if Mind is to be driven out of the universe and accident accepted as a sufficient cause for all the majesty and glory of physical nature, then there is no crime or violence, however abominable in its circumstances and however cruel in its execution, which cannot be justified by success, and no triviality, no absurdity of Fashion which deserves a censure: more—there is no act of disinterested love and tenderness, no deed of self-sacrifice and mercy, no aspiration after beauty and excellence, for which a single reason can be adduced in logic."

To destroy the faith of Christians and lay the foundation for the bloodiest war in history would seem enough to condemn Darwinism, but there are still two other indictments to bring against it. First, that it is the basis of the gigantic class struggle that is now shaking society throughout the world. Both the capitalist and the labourer are increasingly class conscious. Why? Because the doctrine of the "Individual efficient for himself"—the brute doctrine of the "survival of the fittest"—is driving men into a life-and-death struggle from which sympathy and the spirit of brotherhood are eliminated. It is transforming the industrial world into a slaughter-house.

Benjamin Kidd, in a masterful work, entitled, "The Science of Power," points out how Darwinism furnished Nietzsche with a scientific basis for his godless system of philosophy and is demoralizing industry.

He also quotes eminent English scientists to support the last charge in the indictment, namely, that Darwinism robs the reformer of hope. Its plan of operation is to improve the race by "scientific breeding" on a purely physical basis. A few hundred years may be required—possibly a few thousand—but what is time to one who carries eons in his quiver and envelopes his opponents in the "Mist of Ages"?

Kidd would substitute the "Emotion of the Ideal" for scientific breeding and thus shorten the time necessary for the triumph of a social reform. He counts one or two generations as sufficient. This is an enormous advance over Darwin's doctrine, but Christ's plan is still more encouraging. A man can be born again; the springs of life can be cleansed instantly so that the heart loves the things that it formerly hated and hates the things that it once loved. If this is true of one, it can be true of any number. Thus, a nation can be born in a day if the ideals of the people can be changed.

Many have tried to harmonize Darwinism with the Bible, but these efforts, while honest and sometimes even agonizing, have not been successful. How could they be when the natural and inevitable tendency of Darwinism is to exalt the mind at the expense of the heart, to overestimate the reliability of the reason as compared with faith and to impair confidence in the Bible. The mind is a machine; it has no morals. It obeys its owner as willingly when he plots to kill as when he plans for service.

The Theistic evolutionist who tries to occupy a middle ground between those who accept the Bible account of creation and those who reject God entirely reminds one of a traveller in the mountains, who, having fallen half-way down a steep slope, catches hold of a frail bush. It takes so much of his strength to keep from going lower that he is useless as an aid to others. Those who have accepted evolution in the belief that it was not anti-Christian may well revise their conclusions in view of the accumulating evidence of its baneful influence.

Darwinism discredits the things that are supernatural and encourages the worship of the intellect—an idolatry as deadly to spiritual progress as the worship of images made by human hands. The injury that it does would be even greater than it is but for the moral momentum acquired by the student before he comes under the blighting influence of the doctrine.

Many instances could be cited to show how the theory that man descended from the brute has, when deliberately adopted, driven reverence from the heart and made young Christians agnostics and sometimes atheists—depriving them of the joy, and society of the service, that come from altruistic effort inspired by religion.

I have recently read of a pathetic case in point. In the Encyclopaedia Americana you will find a sketch of the life of George John Romanes, from which the following extract is taken: "Romanes, George John, English scientist. In 1879 he was elected fellow of the Royal Society and in 1878 published, under the pseudonym 'Physicus,' a work entitled, 'A Candid Examination of Theism,' in which he took up a somewhat defiant atheistic position. Subsequently his views underwent considerable change; he revised the 'Candid Examination,' and, toward the close of his life, was engaged on 'A Candid Examination of Religion,' in which he returned to theistic beliefs. His notes for this work were published after his death, under the title 'Thoughts on Religion,' edited by Canon Gore. Romanes was an ardent supporter of Darwin and the evolutionists and in various works sought to extend evolutionary principles to mind, both in the lower animals and in the man. He wrote very extensively on modern biological theories."

Let me use Romanes' own language to describe the disappointing experiences of this intellectual "prodigal son." On page 180 of "Thoughts on Religion" (written, as above stated, just before his death but not published until after his demise) he says, "The views that I entertained on this subject (Plan in Revelation) when an undergraduate (i.e., the ordinary orthodox views) were abandoned in the presence of the theory of Evolution."

It was the doctrine of Evolution that led him astray. He attempted to employ reason to the exclusion of faith—with the usual result. He abandoned prayer, as he explains on pages 142 and 143: "Even the simplest act of will in regard to religion—that of prayer—has not been performed by me for at least a quarter of a century, simply because it has seemed impossible to pray, as it were, hypothetically, that, much as I have always desired to be able to pray, I cannot will the attempt. To justify myself for what my better judgment has often seemed to be essentially irrational, I have ever made sundry excuses." "Others have doubtless other difficulties, but mine is chiefly, I think, that of an undue regard to reason as against heart and will—undue, I mean, if so it be that Christianity is true, and the conditions to faith in it have been of divine ordination."

In time he tired of the husks of materialism and started back to his Father's house. It was a weary journey but as he plodded along, his appreciation of the heart's part increased until, on pages 152 and 153, he says, "It is a fact that we all feel the intellectual part of man to be 'higher' than the animal, whatever our theory of his origin. It is a fact that we all feel the moral part of man to be 'higher' than the intellectual, whatever our theory of either may be. It is also a fact that we all similarly feel the spiritual to be 'higher' than the moral, whatever our theory of religion may be. It is what we understand by man's moral, and still more his spiritual, qualities that go to constitute character. And it is astonishing how in all walks of life it is character that tells in the long run."

On page 150 he answered Huxley's attack on faith. He says, "Huxley, in 'Lay Sermons,' says that faith has been proved a 'cardinal sin' by science. Now this is true enough of credulity, superstition, etc., and science has done no end of good in developing our ideas of method, evidence, etc. But this is all on the side of intellect. 'Faith' is not touched by such facts or considerations. And what a terrible hell science would have made of the world, if she had abolished the 'spirit of faith,' even in human relations."

In the days of his apostasy he "took it for granted," he says on page 164, "that Christianity was played out." When once his eyes were reopened he vied with Paul himself in recognizing the superior quality of love. On page 163 he quoted the eloquent lines of Bourdillon:

The night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of a whole world dies With the setting sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done.

Having quoted this noble sentiment he adds: "Love is known to be all this. How great then, is Christianity, as being the religion of love, and causing men to believe both in the cause of love's supremacy and the infinity of God's love to man."

But Romanes still clung to Evolution and, so far as his book discloses, his mind would never allow his heart to commune with Darwin's far-away God, whose creative power Romanes could not doubt but whose daily presence he could not admit without abandoning his theory.

His is a typical case, but many of the wanderers never return to the fold; they are lost sheep. If the doctrine were demonstrated to be true its acceptance would, of course, be obligatory, but how can one bring himself to assent to a series of assumptions when such a course is accompanied by such a tremendous risk of spiritual loss?

If, as it does in so many instances, it causes the student to choose Darwinism, with its intellectual delusions, and reject the Bible, with the incalculable blessings that its heart-culture brings, what minister of the Gospel or Christian professor can justify himself before the bar of conscience if, by impairing confidence in the Word of God, he wrecks human souls? All the intellectual satisfaction that Darwinism ever brought to those who have accepted it will not offset the sorrow that darkens a single life from which the brute theory of descent has shut out the sunshine of God's presence and the companionship of Christ. Here, too, we have the testimony of the distinguished scientist from whom I have been quoting. In his first book—the attack on Theism—he says: (page 29, "Thoughts on Religion") "I am not ashamed to confess that with this virtual negation of God the universe to me has lost its soul of loveliness; and, although from henceforth the precept to 'Work while it is day' will doubtless gain an intensified force from the terribly intensified meaning of the words that 'the night cometh when no man can work,' yet when at times I think, as think at times I must, of the appalling contrast between the hallowed glory of that creed which once was mine, and the lonely mystery of existence as now I find it,—at such times I shall ever feel it impossible to avoid the sharpest pang of which my nature is susceptible."

Romanes, during his college days, came under the influence of those who worshipped the reason and this worship led him out into a starless night. Have we not a right to demand something more than guesses, surmises, and hypotheses before we exchange the "hallowed glory" of the Christian creed for "the lonely mystery of existence" as Romanes found it? Shall we at the behest of those who put the intellect above the heart endorse an unproved doctrine of descent and share responsibility for the wreckage of all that is spiritual in the lives of our young people? I refuse to have any part in such responsibility. For nearly twenty years I have gone from college to college and talked to students. Wherever I could do so I have pointed out the demoralizing influence of Darwinism. I have received thanks from many students who were perplexed by the materialistic teachings of their instructors and I have been encouraged by the approval of parents who were distressed by the visible effects of these teachings on their children.

As many believers in Darwinism are led to reject the Bible let me, by way of recapitulation, contrast that doctrine with the Bible:

Darwinism deals with nothing but life; the Bible deals with the entire universe—with its masses of inanimate matter and with its myriads of living things, all obedient to the will of the great Law Giver.

Darwin concerns himself with only that part of man's existence which is spent on earth—while the Bible's teachings cover all of life, both here and hereafter.

Darwin begins by assuming life upon the earth; the Bible reveals the source of life and chronicles its creation.

Darwin devotes nearly all his time to man's body and to the points at which the human frame approaches in structure—though vastly different from—the brute; the Bible emphasizes man's godlike qualities and the virtues which reflect the goodness of the Heavenly Father.

Darwinism ends in self-destruction. As heretofore shown, its progress is suspended, and even defeated, by the very genius which it is supposed to develop; the Bible invites us to enter fields of inexhaustible opportunity wherein each achievement can be made a stepping-stone to greater achievements still.

Darwin's doctrine is so brutal that it shocks the moral sense—the heart recoils from it and refuses to apply the "hard reason" upon which it rests; the Bible points us to the path that grows brighter with the years.

Darwin's doctrine leads logically to war and to the worship of Nietzsche's "Superman"; the Bible tells us of the Prince of Peace and heralds the coming of the glad day when swords shall be beaten into ploughshares and when nations shall learn war no more.

Darwin's teachings drag industry down to the brute level and excite a savage struggle for selfish advantage; the Bible presents the claims of an universal brotherhood in which men will unite their efforts in the spirit of friendship.

As hope deferred maketh the heart sick, so the doctrine of Darwin benumbs altruistic effort by prolonging indefinitely the time needed for reforms; the Bible assures us of the triumph of every righteous cause, reveals to the eye of faith the invisible hosts that fight on the side of Jehovah and proclaims the swift fulfillment of God's decrees.

Darwinism puts God far away; the Bible brings God near and establishes the prayer-line of communication between the Heavenly Father and His children.

Darwinism enthrones selfishness; the Bible crowns love as the greatest force in the world.

Darwinism offers no reason for existence and presents no philosophy of life; the Bible explains why man is here and gives us a code of morals that fits into every human need.

The great need of the world to-day is to get back to God—back to a real belief in a living God—to a belief in God as Creator, Preserver and loving Heavenly Father. When one believes in a personal God and considers himself a part of God's plan he will be anxious to know God's will and to do it, seeking direction through prayer and made obedient through faith.

Man was made in the Father's image; he enters upon the stage, the climax of Jehovah's plan. He is superior to the beasts of the field, greater than any other created thing—but a little lower than the angels. God made him for a purpose, placed before him infinite possibilities and revealed to him responsibilities commensurate with the possibilities. God beckons man upward and the Bible points the way; man can obey and travel toward perfection by the path that Christ revealed, or man can disobey and fall to a level lower, in some respects, than that of the brutes about him. Looking heavenward man can find inspiration in his lineage; looking about him he is impelled to kindness by a sense of kinship which binds him to his brothers. Mighty problems demand his attention; a world's destiny is to be determined by him. What time has he to waste in hunting for "missing links" or in searching for resemblances between his forefathers and the ape? In His Image—in this sign we conquer.

We are not progeny of the brute; we have not been forced upward by a blind pushing-power; neither have we tumbled upward by chance. It is a drawing-power—not a pushing-power—that rules the world—a power which finds its highest expression in Christ who promised: "I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me."



V

THE LARGER LIFE

I have chosen this subject because I have found some young men, and even some young women, who seem to misunderstand the invitation extended by the Master. The call of the Gospel falls, at times, upon deaf ears because religion is regarded as a thing that is necessary only when one comes to prepare himself for the life beyond. In earlier times many Christians misinterpreted the Christian religion and, withdrawing themselves from companionship with their fellows, devoted their time wholly to preparation of themselves for heaven. Christ went about doing good.

I present my appeal to the young to accept Christ and to enter upon the life He prescribes, not because they may die soon but because they may live. They need Christ as their Saviour now and they need Him as their guide throughout life. Some complain of the Parable of the Vineyard because the man who began work at the eleventh hour received the same pay as those who toiled all day. Surely, those who complain have not tasted the joys of a Christian life. No one who follows the teachings of Christ will begrudge the reward promised to those who repent at the last moment and are saved. The eleventh-hour Christians are the ones to mourn because they have lost the happiness that they would have found in service during the livelong day.

Young people sometimes postpone becoming Christians on the ground that they want to have a good time for a while longer. Who can be happier than the Christian? Our religion fits into the needs of all of every age. If there are any amusements enjoyed by the world from which members of the church feel it a duty to abstain it is because more wholesome amusements crowd out the objectionable ones. It ought not to be necessary to forbid a Christian to do harmful things; he ought to avoid them because he has no taste for them—because he finds more real pleasure and more enduring satisfaction in the things that are innocent and helpful.

There is another class to which I desire to address myself to-day, namely, those who call themselves more liberal than Christians—who look upon our religion as narrowing in its influence. Christianity is the broadest of creeds because it takes in everything that touches human life, here and hereafter. The Christian life is the most comprehensive life known; it is as deep as the heart; it is as wide as the world; and it is as high as heaven.

Paul, the great Apostle, tells us that Christ came to "bring life and immortality to light"—not immortality alone, but life also, and the word Life comes before the word Immortality.

But we have higher authority even than Paul. Christ, in explaining His mission, said, "I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly." It is to the more abundant life that Christ calls us. He was the master of mathematics, yet He used only addition and multiplication; subtraction has no place in His philosophy.

Let me illustrate, as I see it, the gift that Christ brings to man. Let us suppose that the people living in an agricultural section had, by intelligent cultivation, brought from the soil all that it could yield in material wealth. If a stranger came into the community and announced that the people, by sinking a shaft one hundred feet deep, could find a vein of coal, they would, if they believed the statement true, immediately sink a shaft; and, if they found the coal, they would add it to the wealth that they derived from the surface of the ground. They would be grateful to the person who told them of the additional riches which they possessed but of which they were not aware. They might not think to thank him immediately—they might be too busy acquiring money to express their gratitude. But after the man was dead, if not before, they would pause long enough to erect a monument to testify to their appreciation of the service he had rendered.

And, to complete the illustration, suppose after the people had adjusted themselves to the added income, another stranger appeared and assured them that, if they would sink the shaft one hundred feet deeper, they would find a vein of precious metals from which to draw money enough to purchase everything everywhere that the heart could wish. They would, if they gave credit to his statement, dig down and find gold and silver and, with still greater joy, add this new possession to those that they already had. Again they would be grateful. They might not express themselves during the benefactor's life, but after a while visitors to the community would see two monuments reared by grateful hands to those who had brought blessings to the neighbourhood.

This illustration presents the idea that I would impress upon you, namely, that Christ came to add to all the good things man possessed without requiring the surrender of any good thing in exchange. Long before the coming of Christ man had taken possession of the body and had gathered from it all the joys that the flesh can yield. Man had also explored the farther reaches of the mind and possessed himself of the delights of the intellect. Christ not only brought redemption but opened to man the vision of a spiritual world and showed him what infinite greatness the Father has placed within the reach of one made in His image, if he will only use the powers that he has—powers unknown to him until revealed by the Spirit.

Every human being is travelling every day in one direction or the other—either upward toward the highest plane that man can reach, or downward toward the lowest level to which man can fall; Christ gives us a vision of our possibilities and the strength to realize them.

If Christ had demanded something in return for the great gifts that He came to bestow man might be justified in asking for time for investigation. He would want to weigh the value of that which is offered against the value of that which must be given up. To do this intelligently would require a long period of training and ample time for comparison. The difficulty is even greater, for it would be impossible for one to weigh or calculate in advance the value of those things which are spiritually discerned. He could see the body; he could comprehend the mind; but he could not know the inestimable value of the things that Christ offers. But how can he hesitate when Christ demands not one single sacrifice, but gives, as the spring gives, desiring nothing in return except appreciation which it is pleasant to manifest?

The Saviour not only gives without reducing the other enjoyments, but His gift increases the value of that which we have. The body without control will exhaust itself—actually wear itself out in the very riot of pleasure. It is only when the body is the servant of a spiritual master that it can develop its greatest strength and prolong its vigour.

Two illustrations suggest themselves. The use of intoxicants has wrought disaster since man came upon the earth. Drink is not only ruinous when used continuously and in large quantities, but it is injurious even when used moderately. The life insurance tables show that a young man who, at the age of twenty-one, begins the regular use of intoxicating liquors, reduces his expectancy by more than ten per cent., or more than four years in forty. That is the average. In proportion as the body is left to its own control the appetite becomes destructive of the body itself as well as of the body's value to others. Just in proportion as the body is under spiritual control is it in position to enjoy itself and to extend the period of enjoyment.

Reference need hardly be made to the diseases that follow in the wake of immorality. The wages of sin is death—death to the body, death to the mind and death to the soul. Races have rotted and passed into oblivion because the body was put in command of the life. Both drunkenness and unchastity curse the generations that follow as well as the generations that are guilty—the sins of the fathers and mothers being visited upon the children and children's children.

And so, too, with the mind; it would run wild but for the sovereign soul of man. There are temptations that come through the intellect—temptations that are as destructive as those that come through the body. Only when the mind is guided and directed by a spiritual conception of life is it capable of its highest and noblest work.

The soul is greater than the mind as it is greater than the body. Would you have proof? Recall the days of the martyrs. What is it in man that can take the body and hold it in the fire until the flames consume the quivering flesh? The soul of man that can coerce the body to its death is greater than the body itself. And the soul is likewise greater than the mind. It can take the imperial mind of man, purge it of vanity and egotism and infuse into it the spirit of humility and a passion for service. The soul that can thus harness the mind and make it bear the burdens of the World is greater than the mind itself.

Remember, also, that the spiritual gifts which Jesus bestows are vastly richer than all that man possessed before. Who can measure the value of salvation—the peace that comes with sins forgiven and the joy of constant communion with the Heavenly Father whom Christ reveals? And, then, consider the moral code that is revolutionizing the world. I only have time to mention a few of the fundamental teachings of Christ.

Christ gave the world a new definition of love. Husbands had loved their wives and wives their husbands; parents had loved their children, and children their parents; and friend had loved friend, but Christ proclaimed a love as boundless as the sea.

Christ founded a religion and built a Church on love—on love, the greatest force in the world. Love furnishes an armour which no weapon can pierce. When physical warfare is forgotten, love will still call its hosts to battle; the effort then will be, not to kill one another but to excel in doing good.

Christ has been called "visionary"—that is a favourite word with those who pride themselves upon being practical. But as a matter of fact, one of the great virtues of Christ's teachings is that they are practical. He deals with the every-day things of ordinary life and in His quiet way irons out difficulties and makes rough paths smooth. His philosophy is easily comprehended and readily applied. His words need no interpretation; they are the words of the people, the language of the masses. If He were a teacher of rhetoric He would surpass all other teachers because the art of discourse reaches its maximum in His sentences. The learned sometimes speak over the heads of their hearers, using words that are unusual and long-drawn-out. Jesus talked to the multitude and they not only understood Him but "the common people heard him gladly."

Let me recall to your minds just a few illustrations of the simplicity of His thought and language. Take, for instance, the supreme virtue, love, upon which He always places emphasis. Note how He weaves it into human experience.

"Therefore," He says (Matt. 5:23), "if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee; Leave there thy gift before the altar and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother."

Reconciliation is preferred to sacrifice. The gift upon the altar can wait; but enmity between brothers must have attention at once. What infinite woe and heartache will be prevented when this lesson is learned and applied throughout the world. What untold blessings will be realized when even among those who profess the name of Christ it is always employed. A word spoken in anger has often cost a life because neither party to the quarrel was big enough to obey the best promptings of the heart and beg pardon. Families have been rent asunder; communities have been divided; nations have gone to war, just because some one lacked the spirit of the Saviour and refused the plain and easy road to reconciliation. Well may religious rites be suspended for the moment while love removes offense and binds together hearts that were estranged. We know that "To err is human," and we believe that "To forgive is divine;" to ask forgiveness requires as much grace as to forgive.

In his first epistle (chapter 4:2) John makes a striking application of Christ's doctrine of love: "If a man say 'I love God' and hateth his brother, he is a liar."

These are harsh words but the Apostle was dealing with a very serious subject, viz., the glaring inconsistency between love of God and hatred of a brother.

There are many ways in which one can manifest hatred of his brother, and it must be remembered that hatred is a sin that is proven by acts rather than admitted. First, there is indifference—a wide-spread sin—and it is to be found inside the church as well as outside. As love is a positive virtue, a failure to love is a violation of obligations. A participation in the services of the church, even communion at the Lord's Table—does not always awaken in Christians the interest they should feel in each other.

If I may be permitted to illustrate my thought, allow me to call attention to the fact that church members are sometimes compelled to pay cut-throat rates for short-time loans when there are within the same congregation members who are loaning at lawful rates to non-church members. Does it not seem incredible that the money of Christians is available for the outside world and yet not within reach of needy brethren? It would be easy for each church to organize within its membership a loan society and use the money supplied by the well-to-do for the accommodation of those temporarily embarrassed. Sometimes the chattel mortgage sharks collect one hundred per cent, or more and the banks, which are established for the purpose of making small short-time loans, usually collect twenty to thirty per cent. Why should a church member be driven to these extremities when the loanable money in the church is sufficient for all needs? Surely church membership ought to be better security for a small amount than either a chattel or a real estate mortgage.

Another illustration; the fraternities are splendid organizations and are founded on high principles, but the church might be expected to do for its members some of the work left to fraternities. They care for the sick and bury the dead! Is it not a reflection on the church that its members should ever be compelled to go outside for assistance in such emergencies?

There are many other forms of indifference, but indifference is the least harmful of the manifestations of the lack of brotherhood. We have cases of positive and deliberate injury practiced against those who stand in the relation of brothers. We have had a riot of exploitation in this country; profiteering has been carried on on an appalling scale: men have been thrusting their larcenous hands into the pockets of their church brethren, as well as into the pockets of the public.

We have also the unequal combat between the tax-eater and the taxpayer, and we have the perennial conflict between the different groups of taxpayers, each trying to shift the burden onto the other, not to speak of that very considerable company who, for profit, cultivate vice as the farmer cultivates his crops. All conscious and deliberate injustice is proof of hatred and to such as engage in such wrong-doing the language of John ought to come as a stinging rebuke. It would work a revolution in society as well as in the Church if all the members proved their love of God by fair dealing with their fellowmen.

Christ confines Himself usually to the laying down of broad, fundamental principles instead of supplying rules and formulae. He cleanses the heart and then gives to life the law of love which should pervade all human relationships, as the law of gravitation pervades the universe. But the Master at times went from generalities into details, making the path of duty so plain that no one can excuse himself if he strays there form.

An illustration is found in Matthew's Gospel, chapter 25:34-46.

Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:

For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:

Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.

Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink?

When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?

Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?

And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

Then shall he say also unto them on the left hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels:

For I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink:

I was a stranger, and ye took me not in: naked, and ye clothed me not: sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not.

Then shall they also answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto thee?

Then shall he answer them, saying, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these ye did it not to me.

And these shall go away into everlasting punishment: but the righteous into life eternal.

No one should waste time in waiting for some great opportunity for service; there are opportunities everywhere. It is impossible for man to render any service to Jehovah Himself. There is nothing that we can do for Him except to love Him with heart and mind and soul and strength. It is to the neighbour that we pay the debt that we owe to the Heavenly Father; it is through the neighbour that we publish to the world our real selves. This is, like music, an universal language that all can understand.

Nietzsche, the atheistic philosopher, gave to one of his books the title "Joyful Wisdom"—an absurd misnomer. That which he mistook for joy was the delirium of an unbalanced mind. The philosophy of Christ might with propriety be called Joyful Wisdom; it leads one into the path of happiness that is real and permanent.

Carl Hilty, a Swiss writer, has published a book entitled "Happiness," in which he points out that, as those have the poorest health who spend their time travelling from one health resort to another looking for it, so those are least happy who do nothing but hunt for pleasure. He insists that to be happy one must have employment for the hands, the head and the heart. The hands must be busy, the mind must be occupied, and the heart must be satisfied.

Christ leads His followers into happiness through this route. No one who partakes of His spirit can be an idler. The world is full of work awaiting labourers; the harvest is ripe. Those who try to imitate Christ will be planning for the extension of His Kingdom and for the comfort of God's creatures. The heart of the Christian—the center of life and love—will find satisfaction in being in sympathetic touch with all that is good and noble.

I have dwelt upon this point because the worldly are in the habit of picturing the Christian life as gloomy and forbidding. It is a libel; a long-faced Christian is a poor Christian, if a Christian at all. "Be of good cheer," is a Christian salutation; Christ used it repeatedly. In Matthew 9:2 He said to the man sick of the palsy, "Son, be of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee."

In Matthew 14:27 He quieted the fears of His disciples, "Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid." In John 16:33 He inspired the Apostles, "Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world."

Here we have three of the greatest sources of happiness—Forgiveness of sins: the presence of the Saviour and triumph over the world.

In Acts we find Him using the same words in addressing Paul and later Paul uses them in encouraging his companions.

Religion—real, heartfelt religion—transforms its possessor. It moulds the disposition and disposition determines expression. No beauty doctor can make a face as winsome as the face of one whose heart overflows with loving kindness; just as no face specialist can impose from without such lines of strength and intelligence as can be written upon it by the thoughts that pass through the brain.

The Christian life is the simple life. Charles Wagner sounded a note that echoed around the world when, some two decades ago, he issued his eloquent protest against the burdensome complexities of modern life. He made a plea for the natural life in which each individual will be his own master instead of being the servant of his possessions. Wagner's book, though first published in Paris, had a larger circulation in the United States than in any other nation—not because our people have wandered farther than others into artificial social forms, but because they are sensitive to high ideals and free to reject harmful customs.

Social intercourse should be an expression of friendship, and friendship is both embarrassed and obscured by vulgar display. The home should be a place of rest, where congenial spirits can gather for communion. There is nothing edifying or satisfying in the mere comparing of apparel. The aim of entertainment should be to refresh the guest and stimulate friendship; the end is defeated by a rivalry in extravagance that awakens concern as to one's ability to return courtesies extended. The increasing costliness of social functions not only robs entertainment of the enjoyment that it is intended to bring, but it leads many young couples to ruin themselves financially in an effort to keep up appearances and pay their social debts. It is impossible to calculate the benefit which would be brought to the social world if Christ's spirit could pervade it and infuse into it a wholesome sincerity and frankness. Christ put the accent on the things that are worthy and banished the shallow pretenses upon which so much time is wasted and so much money squandered.

Christ gave the world a balm for that worry that is more wearing than work. He condemned the petty vanities and irritating anxieties. He taught a perfect trust that leads one to do his best and then leave the result with the Heavenly Father who is ever near and always ready to give good gifts to His children.

In Matthew 6, we find this soothing rebuke:

Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your Heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature? And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?

Reasoning unanswerable. He argues from the less to the greater and with incomparable beauty woos man away from the distracting thoughts that dissipate his strength without yielding him any advantage. The Creator who cares for the birds will not forget man made in His image; He who clothes the fields in the beauty of the flower and gives to the trembling blade of grass the nourishment that it needs for its fleeting day, will not desert man, His supreme handiwork.

"Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," is a rebuke aimed at those who borrow trouble. Let not the past distress you—it has gone beyond recall; let not the morrow intrude upon you—it will bring its cargo of cares when it comes. Man lives in the present and can claim only the moment as it passes, but Christ teaches him how to so use each hour as to make the days that are gone an echoing delight and the days that are yet to come a radiant hope.

Christ has been called a sentimentalist. Let it be admitted; it is no reproach. He is the inexhaustible source of sentiment, and sentiment rules the world. "The dreamer lives forever; the toiler dies in a day."

A striking illustration of the emphasis that Christ placed upon sentiment is found in Matthew 26:7-13:

There came unto him a woman having an alabaster box of very precious ointment, and poured it on his head, as he sat at meat. But when his disciples saw it, they had indignation, saying, To what purpose is this waste? For this ointment might have been sold for much, and given to the poor. When Jesus understood it, he said unto them, Why trouble ye the woman? for she hath wrought a good work upon me. For ye have the poor always with you, but me ye have not always. For in that she hath poured this ointment on my body, she did it for my burial. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her.

Eight verses devoted to an alabaster box of ointment! This is more space than was given to many incidents seemingly more important, and at the very crisis of His career, too. But who will estimate the value of this narrative?

Judas complained that it was an inexcusable waste of money—Judas, the thief, as Mark calls him, pretended concern about the poor. The poor have received immeasurably more from the use made of this ointment than they would have received had it been sold and the proceeds distributed then. It was an expression of love, and love is the treasury box from which the poor can always draw. That box of ointment has spread its fragrance over nineteen hundred years. Give a man bread and he hungers again; give him clothing and his clothing will wear out; but give him an ideal—something to look up to through life—and it will be with him through every waking hour lifting him to a higher plane and filling his life with the beauty and the bounty of service. The money spent for a loaf of bread may stay the pangs of hunger for a few brief hours, but the same amount invested in the "bread of life" will give one an inexhaustible feast. A drink of water refreshes for the moment; the same amount invested in the "water of life" may make of one a spring overflowing with blessings.

A Bible costs a few cents and yet upon it may be built a life that is worth millions to the human race. It was a Bible that made William Ewart Gladstone for a generation the world's greatest Christian statesman; it was a Bible that made Jose Rodrigues for a quarter of a century the greatest moral force in Brazil. The Bible has given us great leaders in the United States. It is the Bible that has sent missionaries throughout the world to plant in little communities everywhere the teachings of the greatest of sentimentalists—and, at the same time, the most practical of philosophers. Christ has taught us the true value of those things which touch the heart and, through the heart, move the world.

"Suffer little children to come unto me;" Christ used the child to admonish those older grown. The Church is following in His footsteps when it makes the child the subject of constant thought and solicitude. It is when we deal with the child that we get the clearest conception of the superiority of faith over reason. The foundations of character are laid in faith and not in reason; they are laid before the reason can be accepted as a guide. No one who exalts reason above faith can lead a child to God, but a child can understand the love of the Saviour and the tender care of the Heavenly Father. For this reason the Sunday school increases in importance. Its lessons build character; its songs echo throughout our lives.

The law arbitrarily fixes the age of twenty-one as the age of legal maturity. No matter how precocious a young man be, the presumption of law is against his intelligence until he is twenty-one. He cannot vote; he cannot make a valid deed to a piece of land. Why? His reason is not mature, and yet the moral principles that control his life are implanted before he reaches that age. His ideals come into his life long before the reason can be regarded as a safe guide. Before the reason is mature he believes in God or has rejected God. If he lives in a Christian community he has accepted the Bible as the Word of God or rejected it as the work of man; if he is acquainted with Christ he has accepted or rejected Him. A child's heart cannot remain a vacuum. It is filled with reverence or irreverence. Those who think that the mind can remain unbiassed until one becomes of age and then be able to render impartial decisions, know little of human experience. Love comes first, reason afterward; the child obeys and later learns why it should obey. Morality rests upon religion and religion, taking hold upon the heart, exercises a control far greater than any logic can exercise over the mind.

Look back over your lives and see how much of real moral principle you have added since you became of age. You can better explain your faith; your will is more firm, your determination more deeply rooted, but what new seed of morality has been sown since you reached the age when the reason is presumed to be mature?

While Christianity builds upon the affirmations of the New Testament and the positive virtues taught by the Saviour it is loyal, as Christ was, to the Commandments which God gave to the people through Moses. Most of these commandments—those relative to man's duty to man—are written unto the statutes of state and nation; they form the basis of our laws. Those which relate to man's duty to God and which are not, therefore, legally binding are binding on the conscience of Christians.

The Christian Church from its earliest beginnings has enforced respect for parents. Parental authority is not only essential to the child's welfare during youth but it is necessary as a foundation upon which to build respect for government and for laws. The Christian home is the nursery of the State as well as of the Church. Loyalty to God and loyalty to government are easily learned by those who from infancy are taught obedience to those who have the right to instruct and direct.

The Christian Church stands also for Sabbath observance. The right to worship God according to the dictates of one's conscience is an inalienable right and any attempt to interfere with the full and free exercise of this right would and should arouse universal protest. Those who do not worship at all have no fear of molestation, but freedom of conscience is not interfered with by laws that provide opportunity for rest and guarantee leisure for worship.

Man's body needs relaxation from toil and man's mind needs leisure as well. These needs are so obvious that they are universally admitted. The spiritual nature requires refreshment also and this need is as imperative as the needs of body and brain. As the spiritual man is the dominant force in life and the measure of the individual's usefulness, the nation cannot be less concerned about the people's spiritual growth and welfare than about their health and intellectual strength.

It is both natural and proper that the day which is observed religiously by the general public should be selected as the day of rest also, respect being shown to those who conscientiously observe another day. Differences of opinion may exist in different localities as to what should be permitted on the Sabbath day, but experience has supported two propositions: first, that every citizen should be guaranteed time for rest and for worship, and, second, that every citizen should be guaranteed the peace and quiet necessary for both rest and worship.

Here, as in nearly every other issue that concerns human welfare, the controversy is not between those who differ in opinions as to what is right and proper but between those, on the one side, who have a pecuniary interest in the promotion of things which are objectionable, and those, on the other, who seek to promote the common good. In other words, it is the old conflict between money and morals: between selfishness and the public weal.

While Christ was all love and all compassion and all tenderness He never hesitated to draw the line and draw it rigidly against folly as well as against sin. The parable of the Ten Virgins is a case in point. Five were wise and five were foolish, the evidence of the difference being found in the fact that five were prudent enough to supply themselves with oil sufficient for an emergency. The other five, lacking wisdom, took only the oil that they could carry in their lamps. When the need came the foolish turned to the wise and said, "Give us of your oil," but the wise refused lest they should not have enough for themselves and the others. Were they censured? No. The parable teaches one of the most important lessons to be learned in life, namely, that the foolish cannot be saved from punishment. It is punishment that converts folly into wisdom and saves the world from a race of fools.

The parable has wide-spread application. The foolish parent cannot be saved from the sorrow inflicted by a spoiled child; the idle cannot be saved from hunger and want; the lazy cannot be given the rewards of the diligent. The success that attends effort and rewards character cannot be awarded to the undeserving without paralyzing all the incentives to virtue and industry. Christ came not to destroy the law—either that revealed in the Word of God or that which was written on nature—He came to fulfill. In the brief years that He taught His disciples and the multitude He quoted the law and illustrated it. He did not come to relieve men of responsibility—He came to light the way—"That they might have life and that they might have it more abundantly."

Christ's doctrines are not limited in time or to numbers. They apply to everybody and last for all time. Paul, in Romans 12: 20, interprets the Master's teachings and applies them. "Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head." How different this way of dealing from the way the carnal man acts, and yet who can question the wisdom of the Saviour's plan? Hatred begets hatred; retaliation invites retaliation and the feud grows. The mountains of Kentucky have furnished numerous illustrations of the futility of revenge. Families were arrayed against families and sons took up inherited hatreds and died violent deaths bequeathing the spirit of revenge to their descendants.

We see the same false philosophy at work among nations. One war lays the foundation for another; generation after generation is sworn to avenge the crimes of preceding generations; and much of it is done in the name of patriotism and glorified as if it were service to the country.

Paul gives us the remedy and it is based upon the injunction that Jesus gave, namely, Love your enemies. Feeding an enemy is more effective than threats of punishment. It is a manifestation of love, and love is the weapon for which there is no shield. The philosophy that Paul applies to the individual is just as effective when applied to larger groups. Nations that have been at war cannot be reconciled by the methods of war. They can be suppressed by force but unless won by friendship there can be no reunion.

Paul concludes this chapter with a command "Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good." There never was a time in the world's history when this kind of doctrine was more imperatively needed for the healing of the wounds of the unprecedented conflict through which the world has passed. Christ has a remedy: Let the wrongs of the past be forgiven and forgotten; let the world be invited to build on friendship and cooperation. Let the rivalry be in the showing of magnanimity. Who dares to say that the plan will fail? The alternative policy has failed and failed miserably. Why not employ the only untried remedy for the ills which afflict civilization?

And the gifts of the Man of Galilee are permanent; they survive the tomb. As one nears the end of life he becomes conscious of an inner longing to attach himself to institutions that will outlive him. His affections having gone out to his fellows, and his heart having entwined itself with the causes that embrace all humankind, he does not like to drop out and be forgotten. His sympathies expand and sympathy is the real blood of the heart, forced by the pulsations of that major organ through all the arteries of society. Have you thought how few of each generation are remembered after death by any one outside of a small circle of friends? We have an hundred millions of people living in the largest republic in history—one of the greatest nations the world has ever known—and yet how many names will survive for a century after those who bore the names are buried? The vanity of man is rebuked by a visit to any old, neglected cemetery. As Bryant puts it

"The world will laugh when thou art gone And solemn brood of care plod on And each one as before will chase his favourite phantom."

It is partly to escape this dread oblivion that men and women, blessed with means, endow hospitals and colleges and charitable institutions. They yearn for an immortality on earth as well as in the world beyond, and nothing but the spiritual has promise of the life everlasting.

If we examine our expense accounts we will be ashamed to note how large a proportion of our money we spend on the body. We buy it the food that it most enjoys, and the raiment that most adorns it; we give it habitations of comfort and beauty, and yet the body is responsible for most of our easily besetting sins and its aches and pains fill life with much of its misery. We spend the first twenty years of life in an effort to develop the body, the second twenty years of life in an effort to keep it in a state of health and twenty more trying to preserve it from decline, and then the threescore years have passed. And, no matter how successful we may be in lifting the body toward physical perfection, we have no assurance that any physical perfection can be made use of in the world above. I believe in the resurrection of but I have not spent much time during the later years in worrying about what particular body I shall have over there. According to the scientists the body changes every seven years. If that be true, I have done little more than exchange an old body for a new one during the more than sixty years that I have lived. I had a baby body and a boy's body, then the body of a young man, and so on until I am now well along with my ninth body. I do not know which one of these will be best for me in the next world, but I know that the God who made this world and gave me an existence in it will give me, in the land beyond, the body that will best serve me there.

Neither have we any assurance that the perfections of the mind survive the day of death. We spend a great deal of time on the mind, for this is an age of intellectual enthusiasm. My experience has not been different from the experience of others. My mother taught me at home until I was ten; then my parents sent me to the public school until I was fifteen; then I spent two years in an academy preparing for college; then four years in college and then two years in a law school. After nearly twenty years of schooling I took part in my last "Commencement," and then I began to learn, and have been learning ever since. I have accumulated something of history, something of science, a bit of poetry and philosophy, and I have read speeches without number. I have accumulated a large amount of information on politics and politicians that I know I shall not need in Heaven, if Heaven is half as good a place as I expect it to be. How much of the intellectual wealth that we have so laboriously acquired can we carry with us? We do not know.

But we know that that which is spiritual does not die—that the heart virtues will accompany us when we enter the future life. In the parable of the Tares, Christ explains that, just as the tares and the wheat grow together until the harvest, so the righteous and the unrighteous live together in this world, but that on the day of judgment they shall be separated. Then shall the righteous "shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father." We have no promise that the body will shine even as a star, or that the mind will shine even as one of the planets, but the sun in its splendour is used to illustrate the brightness with which those will shine who are counted righteous in that day.

I esteem it a privilege to be permitted to present the claims of the Larger Life to which Jesus, the Christ, calls all of the children of men. Why will one choose a life that is small and contracted, when there is within his reach the life that is full and complete—the Larger Life? Why will he be content with the pleasures of the body and the joys of the mind when he can have added to them the delights of the spirit? How can he delay acceptance of Christ's offer to ennoble that which he has, and to add to it the things that are highest and best and most enduring? This is the life that Christ brought to light when He came that men might have life and have it more abundantly.



VI

THE VALUE OF THE SOUL

The fact that Christ dealt with this subject is proof conclusive that it is important, for He never dealt with trivial things. When Christ focused attention upon a theme it was because it was worthy of consideration—and Christ weighed the soul. He presented the subject, too, with surpassing force; no one will ever add to what He said. Christ used the question to give emphasis to the thought which He presented in regard to the soul's value.

On one side He put the world and all that the world can contain—all the wealth that one can accumulate, all the fame to which one can aspire, and all the happiness that one can covet; and on the other side He put the soul, and asked the question that has come ringing down the centuries: "What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?"

There is no compromise here—no partial statement of the matter. He leaves us to write one term of the equation ourselves. He gives us all the time we desire, and allows the imagination to work to the limit, and when we have gathered together into one sum all things but the soul, He asks—What if you gain it all—ALL—ALL, and lose the soul? What is the profit?

Some have thought the soul question a question of the next world only, but it is a question of this world also; some have thought the soul question a Sabbath-day question only, but it is a week-day question as well; some have thought the soul question a question for the ministers alone, but it is a question which we all must meet. Every day and every week, every month and every year, from the time we reach the period of accountability until we die, we—each of us—all of us, weigh the soul; and just in proportion as we put the soul above all things else we build character; the moment we allow the soul to become a matter of merchandise, we start on the downward way.

Tolstoy says that if you would investigate the career of a criminal it is not sufficient to begin with the commission of a crime; that you must go back to that day in his life when he deliberately trampled upon his conscience and did that which he knew to be wrong. And so with all of us, the turning point in the life is the day when we surrender the soul for something that for the time being seems more desirable.

Most of the temptations that come to us to sell the soul come in connection with the getting of money. The Bible says, "The love of money is the root of all evil." Or, as the Revised Version gives it, "A root of all kinds of evil."

Because so many of our temptations come through the love of money and the effort to obtain it, it is worth while to consider the laws of accumulation. We must all have money; we need food and clothing and shelter, and money is necessary for the purchase of these things. Money is not an evil in itself—money is, in fact, a very useful servant. It is bad only when it becomes the master, and the love of it is hurtful only because it can, and often does, crowd out the love of nobler things.

But since we must all use money and must in our active days store up money for the days when our strength fails, let us see if we can agree upon God's law of rewards. (See lecture on "His Government and Peace.")

How much money can a man rightfully collect from society? Surely, there can be no disagreement here. He cannot rightfully collect more than he honestly earns. If a man collects more than he earns, he collects what somebody else has earned, and we call it stealing if a man takes that which belongs to another. Not only is a man limited in his collection of what he honestly earns, but will an honest man desire to collect more than he earns?

If a man cannot rightfully collect more than he honestly earns, it is then a matter of the utmost importance to know how much money a man can honestly earn. I venture an answer to this, namely, that a man cannot honestly earn more than fairly measures the value of the service which he renders to society. I cannot conceive of any way of earning money except to give to society a service equivalent in value to the money collected. This is a fundamental proposition and it is important that it should be clearly understood, for if one desires to collect largely from society he must be prepared to render a large service to society; and our schools and colleges, our churches and all other organizations for the improvement of man have for one of their chief objects the enlargement of the capacity for service.

There is an apparent exception in the case of an inheritance, but it is not a real exception, for if the man who leaves the money has honestly earned it, he has already given society a service of equivalent value and, therefore, has a right to distribute it. And money received by inheritance is either payment for service already rendered, or payment in advance for service to be rendered. No right-minded person will accept money, even by inheritance, without recognizing the obligation it imposes to render a service in return. This service is not always rendered to the one from whom this money is received, but often to society in general. In fact, most of the blessings which we receive come to us in such a way that we cannot distinguish the donors and must make our return to the whole public. If one is not compelled to work for himself he has the larger pleasure of working for the public.

But I need not dwell upon this, because in this country more than anywhere else in the world we appreciate the dignity of labour and understand that it is honourable to serve. And yet there is room for improvement, for all over our land there are, scattered here and there, young men and young women—and even parents—who still think that it is more respectable for a young man to spend in idleness the money some one else has earned than to be himself a producer of wealth. As long as this sentiment is to be found anywhere there is educational work to be done, for public opinion will never be what it ought to be until it puts the badge of disgrace upon the idler, no matter how rich he may be, rather than upon the man who with brain or muscle contributes to the Nation's wealth, the Nation's strength and the Nation's progress.

But, as I said, the inheritance is an apparent, not an actual, exception, and we will return to the original proposition—that one's earnings must be measured by the service rendered. This is so vital a proposition that I beg leave to dwell upon it a moment longer, to ask whether it is possible to fix in dollars and cents a maximum limit to the amount one can earn in a lifetime.

Let us begin with one hundred thousand dollars. If we estimate a working life at thirty-three and one-third years—and I think this is a fair estimate—a man must earn three thousand dollars per year on an average for thirty-three and one-third years to earn one hundred thousand dollars in a lifetime. I take it for granted that no one will deny that it is possible for one to earn this sum by rendering a service equal to it in value, but what shall we say of a million dollars? Can a man earn that much? To do so he must earn thirty thousand dollars a year for thirty-three and one-third years. Is it possible for one to render so large a service? I believe it is. Well, what shall we say of ten millions? To earn that much one must earn on an average three hundred thousand dollars a year for thirty-three and one-third years. Is it possible for one to render a service so large as to earn so vast a sum? At the risk of shocking some of my radical friends I am going to affirm that it is possible.

But can one earn an hundred million? Yes, I believe that it is even possible to serve society to such an extent as to earn a hundred million in the span of a human life, or an average of three million a year for thirty-three and one-third years. We have one man in this country who is said to be worth five hundred million. To earn five hundred million one must earn on an average fifteen million a year for thirty-three and one-third years. Is this within the range of human possibility? I believe that it is. Now, I have gone as high as any one has yet gone in collecting, but if there is any young man here with an ambition to render a larger service to the world, I will raise it another notch, if necessary, to encourage him. So almost limitless are the possibilities of service in this age that I am not willing to fix a maximum to the sum a man can honestly and legitimately earn.

Not only do I believe that one can earn five hundred million, but I believe that men have earned it.

In this and other countries many in public life might be mentioned, for even in politics men have great opportunities, which, if rightly improved, enable them to render incalculable service to their fellowmen.

But let us go outside of politics. What shall we say of the man who gave to the world a knowledge of the use of steam and revolutionized the transportation of the globe? How much did he earn? And the man who brought down lightning from the clouds and imprisoned it in a slender wire so that it lights our homes, draws our traffic across the land and carries our messages under the sea; what did he earn? And what of the man who showed us how to hurl our messages thousands of miles through space without the aid of wire? And how much did the man earn who taught us how to wrap the human voice around a little cylinder so that it can be laid away and echo throughout the ages?

Take a very recent invention, the gasolene engine. It has already given us the automobile and the flying machine, and heaven only knows what yet may come with that gasolene engine. My first ride in an automobile was taken in the campaign of 1896; since then something like seventeen million automobiles have been brought into use.

Have you thought of the value of the ice machine? In Apalachicola, Florida, they have erected a little monument to a former citizen, Dr. John Gorry. A statue of him will be found in the capitol at Tallahassee, and the state of Florida has put another in the Hall of Fame at Washington. Out of his brain came the idea that made it possible for the world to have ice to-day without regard to the temperature outside. What did Gorry earn when he gave the world the ice machine?

When I first visited the Patent Office at Washington I saw a model of the first sewing machine. On it was a card on which was written:

"Mine are sinews superhuman, Ribs of brass and nerves of steel; I'm the iron needle woman, Born to toil but not to feel."

What did the man earn who gave the world a sewing machine?

These are only a few of the great inventions. Let us take up another group. To show how wide is the field of measureless endeavour, I call attention to the work of scientists. Who will measure the value of anesthetics in the treatment of disease and injury? What of vaccination and the labours of Pasteur? Who will estimate the value of the service rendered by the man who gave us a remedy for typhoid? In 1898 hundreds died of typhoid fever in the little army that was raised for the war with Spain—twenty-seven of my regiment died of that disease. Now we have a remedy so complete that of the nearly a million men who reached the battle-line in France not one died of typhoid, and only one hundred and twenty-five of the four millions called to the colours.

Have you tried to estimate the service rendered by Reed, who, in finding a remedy for yellow fever, made the tropics habitable and made it possible for the United States to add the Panama Canal to our great achievements?

But the field is larger still. Raikes established a Sunday school and now we have Sunday schools all over the world; Williams organized a Young Men's Christian Association and now there are nine thousand associations and more than a million and a half members march under the banners of that organization, half of them in the United States. Forty years ago a young preacher in Portland, Maine, gathered a few young people about him and formed a Christian Endeavour Society; now it numbers more than four million members. That young preacher, Dr. Francis E. Clark, is now one of the great religious leaders of the world and is Commander-in-Chief of this militant organization which is larger than the army that did our part in the World War. What has he earned?

Near Rochester, New York, there is a little town that has the proud distinction of being the birthplace of Frances Willard. There was nothing to distinguish her from other little girls when she was in school, but when she reached womanhood she gave her heart to a great cause; she became president of the Woman's Christian Temperance Union, probably the greatest of the organizations among women ever formed. Under her leadership that organization brought into the schools of the land instruction as to the effect of alcohol upon the system and that did more than any other one thing, I think, to bring National Prohibition. The state of Illinois has placed the statue of this great woman in the Hall of Fame in the National Capitol; she is the first woman to be thus honoured. What has she earned?

And so I might continue, for the name of the world's great benefactors is legion. And besides those whose services were of incalculable value a multitude have earned lesser sums ranging down to a modest fortune. Every one can earn enough to supply all needs. Every time I speak to the students of a college, high school, or primary grade I cannot help thinking that within the room there may be a boy or girl who will catch a vision of great achievement and, consecrating a life of service, do a work so valuable that all the arithmetics will not compute its worth.

But if I could furnish you a list containing the names of all who since time began rendered a service worth five hundred millions, one thing would be true of every one of them; namely, that never in a single case did the person collect the full amount earned. Those who have earned five hundred millions have been so busy earning it that they have not had time to collect it, and those who have collected five hundred millions have been so busy collecting it that they have not had time to earn it. Then, too, it must be remembered that those who render the greatest service serve more than their own generation—some serve all who live afterward so that it is never possible to compute what they have earned.

And what is more, those who render the largest service do not care to collect the full amount earned. What could they do with the sum that they actually earn? Or, what is more important, what would so great a sum do with them?

In that wonderful parable of the Sower, Christ speaks of the seeds that fell and of the thorns that sprang up and choked them, and He Himself explained what He meant by this illustration, namely: That the care of this world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the truth. If the great benefactors of the race had been burdened with the care of big fortunes, they could not have devoted themselves to the nobler things that gave them a place in the affection of their people and in history.

It seems, therefore, that while one cannot rightfully collect more than he honestly earns, he may earn more than it would be wise for him to collect. And that brings us to the next question: How much should one desire to collect from society? I answer, that no matter how large a service one may render or how much he may earn, he should not desire to collect more than he can wisely spend.

And how much can one wisely spend? Not as much as you might think—not nearly as much as some have tried to spend. No matter how honestly money may be acquired, one is not free to spend it at will. We are hedged about by certain restrictions that we can neither remove nor ignore. God has written certain laws in our nature—laws that no legislature can repeal—laws that no court can declare unconstitutional, and these laws limit us in our expenditures.

Let us consider some of the things for which we can properly spend money. We need food—we all need food, and we need about the same amount; not exactly, but the difference in quantity is not great. The range in expenditure is greater than the range in quantity, because expenditure covers kind and quality as well as quantity. But there is a limit even to expenditure. If a man eats too much he suffers for it. If he squanders his money on high-priced foods, he wears his stomach out. There is an old saying which we have all heard, viz., "The poor man is looking for food for his stomach, while the rich man is going from one watering place to another looking for a stomach for his food." This is only a witty way of expressing a sober truth, namely, that one is limited in the amount of money he can wisely spend for food.

We need clothing—we all need clothing, and we need about the same amount. The difference in quantity is not great. The range in expenditure for clothing is greater than the range in quantity, because expenditure covers style and variety as well as quantity, but there is a limit to the amount of money one can wisely spend for clothing. If a man has so much clothing that it takes all of his time to change his clothes, he has more than he needs and more than he can wisely buy.

We need homes—we all need shelter and we need about the same amount. In fact, God was very democratic in the distribution of our needs, for He so created us that our needs are about the same. The range of expenditure for homes is probably wider than in the case of either food or clothing. We are interested in the home. I never pass a little house where two young people are starting out in life without a feeling of sympathetic interest in that home; I never pass a house where a room is being added without feeling interested, for I know the occupants have planned it, and looked forward to it and waited for it; I like to see a little house moved back and a larger house built, for I know it is the fulfillment of a dream. I have had some of these dreams myself, and I know how they lead us on and inspire us to larger effort and greater endeavour, and yet there is a limit to the amount one can wisely spend even for so good a thing as a home.

If a man gets too big a house it becomes a burden to him, and many have had this experience. Not infrequently a young couple start out poor and struggle along in a little house, looking forward to the time when they can build a big house. After a while the time arrives and they build a big house, larger, possibly, than they intended to, and it nearly always costs more than they thought it would, and then they struggle along the rest of their lives looking back to the time when they lived in a little house.

We speak of people being independently rich. That is a mistake; they are dependency rich. The richer a man is the more dependent he is—the more people he depends upon to help him collect his income, and the more people he depends upon to help him spend his income. Sometimes a couple will start out doing their own work—the wife doing the work inside the house and the man outside. But they prosper, and after a while they are able to afford help; they get a girl to help the wife inside and a man to help the husband outside; then they prosper more—and they get two girls to help inside and two men to help outside, then three girls inside and three men outside. Finally they have so many girls helping inside and so many men helping outside that they cannot leave the house—they have to stay at home and look after the establishment.

This is not a new condition. One of the Latin poets complained of "the cares that hover about the fretted ceilings of the rich!" It was this condition that inspired Charles Wagner to write his little book entitled "The Simple Life," in which he entered an eloquent protest against the materialism which makes man the slave of his possessions; he presented an earnest plea for the raising of the spiritual above the purely physical. I repeat, that there is a limit to the amount a man can wisely spend upon a home.

I need not remind you that the rich are tempted to spend money on the vices that destroy—money honestly earned may thus become a curse rather than a blessing.

But a man can give his money away. Yes, and no one who has ever tried it will deny that more pleasure is to be derived from the giving of money to a cause in which one's heart is interested, than can be obtained from the expenditure of the same amount in selfish indulgence. But if one is going to give largely he must spend a great deal of time in investigating and in comparing the merits of the different enterprises. I am persuaded that there is a better life than the life led by those who spend nearly all the time accumulating beyond their needs and then employ the last few days in giving it away. What the world needs is not a few men of great wealth, doling out their money in anticipation of death—what the world needs is that these men link themselves in sympathetic interest with struggling humanity and help to solve problems of to-day, instead of creating problems for the next generation to solve.

But you say, a man can leave his money to his children? He can, if he dares. A large fortune, in anticipation, has ruined more sons than it has ever helped. If a young man has so much money coming to him that he knows he will never have to work, the chances are that it will sap his energy, even if it does not undermine his character, and leave him a curse rather than a blessing to those who brought him into the world.

And it is scarcely safer to leave the money to a daughter. For, if a young woman has a prospective inheritance so large that, when a young man calls upon her, she cannot tell whether he is calling upon her or her father, it is embarrassing—especially so if she finds after marriage that he married the wrong member of the family. And, I may add, that the daughters of the very rich are usually hedged about by a social environment which prevents their making the acquaintance of the best young men. The men who, twenty-five years from now, will be the leaders in business, in society, in government, and in the Church, are not the pampered sons of the rich, but the young men who, with good health and good habits, with high ideals and strong ambition, are, under the spur of necessity, laying the foundation for future achievements, and these young men do not have a chance to become acquainted with the daughters of the very rich. Even if they did know them they might hesitate to enter upon the scale of expenditure to which these daughters are accustomed.

I have dealt at length with these fixed limitations, although we all know of them or ought to. The ministers tell us about these things Sunday after Sunday, or should, and yet we find men chasing the almighty dollar until they fall exhausted into the grave. Dr. Talmage dealt with this subject; he said that a man who wore himself out getting money that he did not need, would finally drop dead, and that his pastor would tell a group of sorrowing friends that, by a mysterious dispensation of Providence, the good man had been cut off in his prime. Dr. Talmage said that Providence had nothing to do with it, and that the minister ought to tell the truth about it, and say that the man had been kicked to death by the golden calf.

Some years ago I read a story by Tolstoy, and I did not notice until I had completed it that the title of the story was, "What shall it profit?" The great Russian graphically presented the very thought that I have been trying to impress upon your minds. He told of a Russian who had land hunger—who added farm to farm and land to land, but could never get enough. After a while he heard of a place where land was cheaper and he sold his land and went and bought more land. But he had no more than settled there until he heard of another place among a half-civilized people where land was cheaper still. He took a servant and went into this distant country and hunted up the head man of the tribe, who offered him all the land he could walk around in a day for a thousand rubles—told him he could put the money down on any spot and walk in any direction as far and as fast as he would, and that, if he was back by sunset, he could have all the land he had encompassed during the day. He put the money down upon the ground and started at sunrise to get, at last, enough land. He started leisurely, but as he looked upon the land it looked so good that he hurried a little—and then he hurried more, and then he went faster still. Before he turned he had gone further in that direction than he had intended, but he spurred himself on and started on the second side. Before he turned again the sun had crossed the meridian and he had two sides yet to cover. As the sun was slowly sinking in the west he constantly accelerated his pace, alarmed at last for fear he had undertaken too much and might lose it all. He reached the starting point, however, just as the sun went down, but he had overtaxed his strength and fell dead upon the spot. His servant dug a grave for him; he only needed six-feet of ground then, the same that others needed—the rest of the land was of no use to him. Thus Tolstoy told the story of many a life—not the life of the very rich only, but the story of every life in which the love of money is the controlling force and in which the desire for gain shrivels the soul and leaves the life a failure at last.

I desire to show you how practical this subject is. If time permitted I could take up every occupation, every avocation, every profession and every calling, and show you that no matter which way we turn—no matter what we do—we are always and everywhere weighing the Soul.

In the brief time that it is proper for me to occupy, I shall apply the thought to those departments of human activity in which the sale of a soul affects others largely as well as the individual who makes the bargain.

Take the occupation in which I am engaged, journalism. It presents a great field—a growing field; in fact, there are few fields so large. The journalist is both a news gatherer and a moulder of thought. He informs his readers as to what is going on, and he points out the relation between cause and effect—interprets current history. Public opinion is the controlling force in a republic, and the newspaper gives to the journalist, beyond every one else, the opportunity to affect public opinion. Others reach the readers through the courtesy of the newspaper, but the owner of the paper has full access to his own columns, and does not fear the blue pencil.

The journalist occupies the position of a watchman upon a tower. He is often able to see dangers which are not observed by the general public, and, because he can see these dangers, he is in a position of greater responsibility. Is he discharging the duty which superior opportunity imposes upon him? Year by year the disclosures are bringing to light the fact that the predatory interests are using many newspapers and even some magazines for the defense of commercial iniquity and for the purpose of attacking those who lift their voices against favouritism and privilege. A financial magnate interested in the exploitation of the public secures control of a paper; he employs business managers, editors, and a reportorial staff. He does not act openly or in the daylight but through a group of employees who are the visible but not the real directors. The reporters are instructed to bring in the kind of news that will advance the enterprises owned by the man who stands back of the paper, and if the news brought in is not entirely satisfactory, it is doctored in the office. The columns of the paper are filled with matter, written not for the purpose of presenting facts as they exist, but for the purpose of distorting facts and misleading the public. The editorial writers, whose names are generally unknown to the public, are told what to say and what subjects to avoid. They are instructed to extol the merits of those who are subservient to the interests represented by the paper, and to misrepresent and traduce those who dare to criticize or oppose the plans of those who hide behind the paper. Such journalists are members of a kind of "Black Hand Society"; they are assassins, hiding in ambush and striking in the dark; and the worst of it is that the readers have no sure way of knowing when a real change takes place in the ownership of such a paper notwithstanding the fact that a recent law requires publication of ownership.

There are degrees of culpability and some are disposed to hold an editorial writer guiltless even when they visit condemnation upon the secret director of the paper's policy. I present to you a different—and I believe higher—ideal of journalism. If we are going to make any progress in morals we must abandon the idea that morals are defined by the statutes; we must recognize that there is a wide margin between that which the law prohibits and that which an enlightened conscience can approve. We do not legislate against the man who uses the printed page for the purpose of deception but, viewed from the standpoint of morals, the man who, whether voluntarily or under instructions, writes what he knows to be untrue or purposely misleads his readers as to the character of a proposition upon which they have to act, is as guilty of wrong-doing as the man who assists in any other swindling transaction.

Another method employed to mislead the public is the publication of editorial matter supplied by those who have an interest to serve. This evil is even more common than secrecy as to the ownership of the paper. In the case of the weekly papers and the smaller dailies, the proprietor is generally known, and it is understood that the editorial pages represent his views. His standing and character give weight to that which appears with his endorsement. A few years ago, when a railroad rate bill was before Congress, a number of railroads joined in an effort to create public sentiment against the bill. Bureaus were established for the dissemination of literature, and a number of newspapers entered into contract to publish as editorial matter the material furnished by these bureaus. This cannot be defended in ethics. The secret purchase of the editorial columns is a crime against the public and a disgrace to journalism, and yet we have frequent occasion to note this degradation of the newspaper. A few years ago Senator Carter, of Montana, speaking in the United States Senate, read several printed slips which were sent out by a bankers' association to local bankers with the request that they be inserted in the local papers as editorials, suggestion being made that the instructions to the local bankers be removed before they were handed to the papers. The purpose of the bankers' association was to stimulate opposition to the postal savings bank, a policy endorsed affirmatively by the Republican party and, conditionally, by the Democratic party, the two platforms being supported at the polls by more than ninety per cent, of the voters. The bankers' associations were opposing the policy, and, in sending out its literature, they were endeavouring to conceal the source of that literature and to make it appear that the printed matter represented the opinion of some one in the community.