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 José 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.
The journalist who would fully perform his duty must be not only incorruptible, but ever alert, for those who are trying to misuse the newspapers are able to deceive "the very elect." Whenever any movement is on foot for the securing of legislation desired by the predatory interests, or when restraining legislation is threatened, news bureaus are established at Washington, and these news bureaus furnish to such papers as will use them free reports, daily or weekly as the case may be, from the national capitol—reports which purport to give general news, but which in fact contain arguments in support of the schemes which the bureaus are organized to advance. This ingenious method of misleading the public is only a part of the general plan which favour-holding and favour-seeking corporations pursue.
Demosthenes declared that the man who refuses a bribe conquers the man who offers it. According to this, the journalist who resists the many temptations which come to him to surrender his ideals has the consciousness of winning a moral victory as well as the satisfaction of knowing that he is rendering a real service to his fellows.
The profession for which I was trained—the law—presents another line of temptations. The court-room is a soul's market where many barter away their ideals in the hope of winning wealth or fame. Lawyers sometimes boast of the number of men whose acquittal they have secured when they knew them to be guilty, and of advantages won which they knew their clients did not deserve. I do not understand how a lawyer can so boast, for he is an officer of the court and, as such, is sworn to assist in the administration of justice. When a lawyer has helped his client to obtain all that his client is entitled to, he has done his full duty as a lawyer, and, if he goes beyond this, he goes at his own peril. Show me a lawyer who has spent a lifetime trying to obscure the line between right and wrong—trying to prove that to be just which he knew to be unjust, and I will show you a man who has grown weaker in character year by year, and whose advice, at last, will be of no value to his clients, for he will have lost the power to discern between right and wrong. Show me, on the other hand, a lawyer who has spent a lifetime in the search for truth, determined to follow where it leads, and I will show you a man who has grown stronger in character day by day and whose advice constantly becomes more valuably to his client, because the power to discern the truth increases with the honest search for it.
Not only in the court-room, but in the consultation chamber also the lawyer sometimes yields to the temptation to turn his talents to a sordid use. The schemes of spoliation that defy the officers of the law are, for the most part, inaugurated and directed by legal minds. I was speaking on this very subject in one of the great cities of the country and at the close of the address, a prominent judge commended my criticism and declared that most of the lawyers practicing in his court were constantly selling their souls.
The lawyer's position is scarcely less responsible than the position of the journalist; if the journalists and lawyers of the country could be brought to abstain from the practices by which the general public is overreached, it would be an easy matter to secure the remedial legislation necessary to protect the producing masses from the constant spoliation to which they are now subjected by the privileged classes.
If a man who is planning a train-robbery takes another along to hold a horse at a convenient distance, we say that the man who holds the horse is equally guilty with the man who robs the train; and the time will come when public opinion will hold as equally guilty with the plunderers of society the lawyers and journalists who assist the plunderers to escape.
I would not be forgiven if I failed to apply my theme to the work of the instructor. The purpose of education is not merely to develop the mind; it is to prepare men and women for society's work and for citizenship. The ideals of the teacher, therefore, are of the first importance. The pupil is apt to be as much influenced by what his teacher is as by what the teacher says or does. The measure of a school cannot be gathered from an inspection of the examination papers; the conception of life which the graduate carries away must be counted in estimating the benefits conferred. The pecuniary rewards of the teacher are usually small when compared with the rewards of business. This may be due in part to our failure to properly appreciate the work which the teacher does, but it may be partially accounted for by the fact that the teacher derives from his work a satisfaction greater than that obtained from most other employments.
The teacher comes into contact with the life of the student and, as our greatest joy is derived from the consciousness of having benefited others, the teacher rightly counts as a part of his compensation the continuing pleasure to be found in the knowledge that he is projecting his influence through future generations. The heart plays as large a part as the head in the teacher's work, because the heart is an important factor in every life and in the shaping of the destiny of the race. I fear the plutocracy of wealth; I respect the aristocracy of learning; but I thank God for the democracy of the heart. It is upon the heart level that we meet; it is by the characteristics of the heart that we best know and best remember each other. Astronomers tell us the distance of each star from the earth, but no mathematician can calculate the influence which a noble teacher may exert upon posterity. And yet, even the teacher may fall from his high estate, and, forgetting his immeasurable responsibility, yield to the temptation to estimate his work by its pecuniary reward. Just now some of the teachers are—let us hope, unconsciously—undermining the religious faith of students by substituting the guesses of Darwin for the Word of God.
Let me turn for a moment from the profession and the occupation to the calling. I am sure I shall not be accused of departing from the truth when I say that even those who minister to our spiritual wants and, as our religious leaders, help to fix our standards of morality, sometimes prove unfaithful to their trust. They are human, and the frailities of man obscure the light which shines from within, even when that light is a reflection from the throne of God.
We need more Elijahs in the pulpit to-day—more men who will dare to upbraid an Ahab and defy a Jezebel. It is possible, aye, probable, that even now, as of old, persecutions would follow such boldness of speech, but he who consecrates himself to religion must smite evil wherever he finds it, although in smiting it he may risk his salary and his social position. It is easy enough to denounce the petty thief and the back-alley gambler; it is easy enough to condemn the friendless rogue and the penniless wrong-doer, but what about the rich tax-dodger, the big lawbreaker, and the corrupter of government? The soul that is warmed by divine fire will be satisfied with nothing less than the complete performance of duty; it must cry aloud and spare not, to the end that the creed of the Christ may be exemplified in the life of the nation.
We need Elijahs now to face the higher critics. Instead of allowing the materialists to cut the supernatural out of the Bible the ministers should demand that the unsupported guesses be cut out of school-books dealing with science.
Not only does the soul question present itself to individuals, but it presents itself to groups of individuals as well.
Let us consider the party. A political party cannot be better than its ideal; in fact, it is good in proportion as its ideal is worthy, and its place in history is determined by its adherence to a high purpose. The party is made for its members, not the members for the party; and a party is useful, therefore, only as it is a means through which one may protect his rights, guard his interests and promote the public welfare. The best service that a man can render his party is to raise its ideals. He basely betrays his party's hopes and is recreant to his duty to his party associates who seeks to barter away a noble party purpose for temporary advantages or for the spoils of office. It would be a reflection upon the intelligence and patriotism of the people to assert, or even to assume, that lasting benefit could be secured for a party by the lowering of its standards. He serves his party most loyally who serves his country most faithfully; it is a fatal error to suppose that a party can be permanently benefited by a betrayal of the people's interests.
In every act of party life and party strife we weigh the soul. That the people have a right to have what they want in government is a fundamental principle in free government. Corruption in government comes from the attempt to substitute the will of a minority for the will of the majority. Every important measure that comes up for consideration involves justice and injustice—right and wrong—and is, therefore, a question of conscience. As justice is the basis of a nation's strength and gives it hope of perpetuity, and, as the seeds of decay are sown whenever injustice enters into government, patriotism as well as conscience leads us to analyze every public question, ascertain the moral principle involved and then cast our influence, whether it be great or small, on the side of justice.
The patriot must desire the triumph of that which is right above the triumph of that which he may think to be right if he is, in fact, mistaken; and so the partizan, if he be an intelligent partizan, must be prepared to rejoice in his party's defeat if by that defeat his country is the gainer. One can afford to be in a minority, but he cannot afford to be wrong; if he is in a minority and right, he will some day be in the majority.
The activities of politics center about the election of candidates to office, and the official, under our system, represents both the party to which he belongs and the whole body of his constituency. He has two temptations to withstand; first, the temptation to substitute his own judgment for the judgment of his constituents, and second, the temptation to put his pecuniary interests above the interests of those for whom he acts. According to the aristocratic idea, the representative thinks for his constituents; according to the Democratic idea, the representative thinks with his constituents. A representative has no right to defeat the wishes of those who elect him, if he knows their wishes.
But a representative is not liable to knowingly misrepresent his constituents unless he has pecuniary interests adverse to theirs. This is the temptation to be resisted—this is the sin to be avoided. The official who uses his position to secure a pecuniary advantage over the public is an embezzler of power—and an embezzler of power is as guilty of moral turpitude as the embezzler of money. There is no better motto for the public official than that given by Solomon: "A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold." There is no better rule for the public official to follow than this—to do nothing that he would not be willing to have printed in the newspaper next day.
One who exercises authority conferred upon him by the suffrages of his fellows ought to be fortified in his integrity by the consciousness of the fact that a betrayal of his trust is hurtful to the party which honours him and unjust to the people whom he serves, as well as injurious to himself. Nothing that he can gain, not even the whole world, can compensate him for the loss that he suffers in the surrender of a high ideal of public duty.
In conclusion, let me say that the nation, as well as the individual, and the party, must be measured by its purpose, its ideals and its service. "Let him who would be chiefest among you, be the servant of all," was intended for nations as well as for citizens. Our nation is the greatest in the world and the greatest of all time, because it is rendering a larger service than any other nation is rendering or has rendered. It is giving the world ideals in education, in social life, in government, and in religion. It is the teacher of nations; it is the world's torch-bearer. Here the people are more free than elsewhere to "try all things and hold fast that which is good"; "to know the truth" and to find freedom in that knowledge. No material considerations should blind us to our nation's mission, or turn us aside from the accomplishment of the great work which has been reserved for us. Our fields bring forth abundantly and the products of our farms furnish food for many in the Old World. Our mills and looms supply an increasing export, but these are not our greatest asset. Our most fertile soil is to be found in the minds and the hearts of our people; our most important manufacturing plants are not our factories, with their smoking chimneys, but our schools, our colleges and our churches, which take in a priceless raw material and turn out the most valuable finished product that the world has known.