The Five Great Philosophies of Life

Aristotelian courage is simply the other side of temperance. Temperance remorselessly cuts off whatever hinders the ends at which we aim. Courage, on the other hand, resolutely takes on whatever dangers and losses, whatever pains and penalties are incidental to the effective prosecution of these ends. To hold consistently an end, is to endure cheerfully whatever means the service of that end demands. Aristotelian courage, rightly conceived, leads us to the very threshold of Christian sacrifice. He who comes to Christian sacrifice by this approach of Aristotelian courage, will be perfectly clear about the reasonableness of it, and will escape that abyss of sentimentalism into which too largely our Christian doctrine of sacrifice has been allowed to drop.

Courage does not depend on whether you save your life, or risk your life, or lose your life. A brave man may save his life in situations where a coward would lose it and a fool would risk it. The brave man is he who is so clear and firm in his grasp of some worthy end that he will live if he can best serve it by living; that he will die if he can best serve it by dying; and he will take his chances of life or death if taking those chances is the best way to serve this end.

The brave man does not like criticism, unpopularity, defeat, hostility, any better than anybody else. He does not pretend to like them. He does not court them. He does not pose as a martyr every chance that he can get. He simply takes these pains and ills as under the circumstances the best means of furthering the ends he has at heart. For their sake he swallows criticism and calls it good; invites opposition and glories in overcoming it, or being overcome by it, as the fates may decree; accepts persecution and rejoices to be counted worthy to suffer in so good a cause.

It is all a question here as everywhere in Aristotle of the ends at which one aims, and the sense of proportion with which he chooses his means. In his own words: "The man, then, who governs his fear and likewise his confidence aright, facing dangers it is right to face, and for the right cause, in the right manner, and at the right time, is courageous. For the courageous man regulates both his feelings and his actions with due regard to the circumstances and as reason and proportion suggest. The courageous man, therefore, faces danger and does the courageous thing because it is a fine thing to do." As Muirhead sums up Aristotle's teaching on this point: "True courage must be for a noble object. Here, as in all excellence, action and object, consequence and motive, are inseparable. Unless the action is inspired by a noble motive, and permeated throughout its whole structure by a noble character, it has no claim to the name of courage."

The virtues cannot be learned out of a book, or picked up ready-made. They must be acquired, by practice, as is the case with the arts; and they are not really ours until they have become so habitual as to be practically automatic. The sign and seal of the complete acquisition of any virtue is the pleasure we take in it. Such pleasure once gained becomes one's lasting and inalienable possession.

In Aristotle's words: "We acquire the virtues by doing the acts, as is the case with the arts too. We learn an art by doing that which we wish to do when we have learned it; we become builders by building, and harpers by playing on the harp. And so by doing just acts we become just, and by doing acts of temperance and courage we become temperate and courageous. It is by our conduct in our intercourse with other men that we become just or unjust, and by acting in circumstances of danger, and training ourselves to feel fear or confidence, that we become courageous or cowardly." "The happy man, then, as we define him, will have the property of permanence, and all through life will preserve his character; for he will be occupied continually, or with the least possible interruption, in excellent deeds and excellent speculations; and whatever his fortune may be, he will take it in the noblest fashion, and bear himself always and in all things suitably. And if it is what man does that determines the character of his life, then no happy man will become miserable, for he will never do what is hateful and base. For we hold that the man who is truly good and wise will bear with dignity whatever fortune sends, and will always make the best of his circumstances, as a good general will turn the forces at his command to the best account."

This doctrine that virtue, like skill in any game or craft, is gained by practice, deserves a word of comment. It seems to say, "You must do the thing before you know how, in order to know how after you have done it." Paradox or no paradox, that is precisely the fact. The swimmer learns to swim by floundering and splashing around in the water; and if he is unwilling to do the floundering and splashing before he can swim, he will never become a swimmer. The ball-player must do a lot of muffing and wild throwing before he can become a sure catcher and a straight thrower. If he is ashamed to go out on the diamond and make these errors, he may as well give up at once all idea of ever becoming a ball-player. For it is by the progressive elimination of errors that the perfect player is developed. The only place where no errors are made, whether in base-ball or in life, is on the grand stand. The courage to try to do a thing before you know how, and the patience to keep on trying after you have found out that you don't know how, and the perseverance to renew the trial as many times as necessary until you do know how, are the three conditions of the acquisition of physical skill, mental power, moral virtue, or personal excellence.

VII
ARISTOTELIAN FRIENDSHIP

We are now prepared to see why Aristotle regards friendship as the crown and consummation of a virtuous life. No one has praised friendship more highly, or written of it more profoundly than he.

Friendship he defines as "unanimity on questions of the public advantage and on all that touches life." This unanimity, however, is very different from agreement in opinion. It is seeing things from the same point of view; or, more accurately, it is the appreciation of each other's interests and aims. The whole tendency of Aristotle thus far has been to develop individuality; to make each man different from every other man. Conventional people are all alike. But the people who have cherished ends of their own, and who make all their choices with reference to these inwardly cherished ends, become highly differentiated. The more individual your life becomes, the fewer people there are who can understand you. The man who has ends of his own is bound to be unintelligible to the man who has no such ends, and is merely drifting with the crowd. Now friendship is the bringing together of these intensely individual, highly differentiated persons on a basis of mutual sympathy and common understanding. Friendship is the recognition and respect of individuality in others by persons who are highly individualised themselves. That is why Aristotle says true friendship is possible only between the good; between people, that is, who are in earnest about ends that are large and generous and public-spirited enough to permit of being shared. "The bad," he says, "desire the company of others, but avoid their own. And because they avoid their own company, there is no real basis for union of aims and interests with their fellows." "Having nothing lovable about them, they have no friendly feelings toward themselves. If such a condition is consummately miserable, the moral is to shun vice, and strive after virtue with all one's might. For in this way we shall at once have friendly feelings toward ourselves and become the friends of others. A good man stands in the same relation to his friend as to himself, seeing that his friend is a second self." "The conclusion, therefore, is that if a man is to be happy, he will require good friends."

Friendship has as many planes as human life and human association. The men with whom we play golf and tennis, billiards and whist, are friends on the lowest plane—that of common pleasures. Our professional and business associates are friends upon a little higher plane—that of the interests we share. The men who have the same social customs and intellectual tastes; the men with whom we read our favourite authors, and talk over our favourite topics, are friends upon a still higher plane—that of identity of æsthetic and intellectual pursuits. The highest plane, the best friends, are those with whom we consciously share the spiritual purpose of our lives. This highest friendship is as precious as it is rare. With such friends we drop at once into a matter-of-course intimacy and communion. Nothing is held back, nothing is concealed; our aims are expressed with the assurance of sympathy; even our shortcomings are confessed with the certainty that they will be forgiven. Such friendship lasts as long as the virtue which is its common bond. Jealousy cannot come in to break it up. Absolute sincerity, absolute loyalty,—these are the high terms on which such friendship must be held. A person may have many such friends on one condition: that he shall not talk to any one friend about what his friendship permits him to know of another friend. Each such relation must be complete within itself; and hermetically sealed, so far as permitting any one else to come inside the sacred circle of its mutual confidence. In such friendship, differences, as of age, sex, station in life, divide not, but rather enhance, the sweetness and tenderness of the relationship. In Aristotle's words: "The friendship of the good, and of those who have the same virtues, is perfect friendship. Such friendship, therefore, endures so long as each retains his character, and virtue is a lasting thing."

VIII
CRITICISM AND SUMMARY OF ARISTOTLE'S TEACHING

If finally we ask what are the limitations of Aristotle, we find none save the limitations of the age and city in which he lived. He lived in a city-state where thirty thousand full male citizens, with some seventy thousand women and children dependent upon them, were supported by the labour of some hundred thousand slaves. The rights of man as such, whether native or alien, male or female, free or slave, had not yet been affirmed. That crowning proclamation of universal emancipation was reserved for Christianity three centuries and a half later. Without this Christian element no principle of personality is complete. Not until the city-state of Plato and Aristotle is widened to include the humblest man, the lowliest woman, the most defenceless little child, does their doctrine become final and universal. Yet with this single limitation of its range, the form of Aristotle's teaching is complete and ultimate. Deeper, saner, stronger, wiser statement of the principles of personality the world has never heard.

His teaching may be summed up in the following:—

TEN ARISTOTELIAN COMMANDMENTS

Thou shalt devote thy utmost powers to some section of our common social welfare.

Thou shalt hold this end above all lesser goods, such as pleasure, money, honour.

Thou shalt hold the instruments essential to the service of this end second only to the end itself.

Thou shalt ponder and revere the universal laws that bind ends and means together in the ordered universe.

Thou shalt master and obey the specific laws that govern the relation of means to thy chosen end.

Thou shalt use just so much of the materials and tools of life as the service of thy end requires.

Thou shalt exclude from thy life all that exceeds or falls below this mean, reckless of pleasure lost.

Thou shalt endure whatever hardship and privation the maintenance of this mean in the service of thy end requires, heedless of pain involved.

Thou shalt remain steadfast in this service until habit shall have made it a second nature, and custom shall have transformed it into joy.

Thou shalt find and hold a few like-minded friends, to share with thee this lifelong devotion to that common social welfare which is the task and goal of man.

CHAPTER V

The artistic method, too, has drawbacks. For though it gives the principles a new artificial setting, with carefully selected details to catch the crowd, yet the crowd catch simply the story. Only the initiated are instructed; those who do not already know the principles learn nothing, but "seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not understand," as Jesus, past master of this art though He was, so often lamented.

The third or scientific method is dry and prosaic. It observes what qualities go together, or refuse to go together, in the swift stream of life; pulls them out of the stream; fixes them in concepts; marks them by names; and states propositions about them. It may go one short step farther: it may arrange its propositions in syllogisms, and deduce general conclusions, or laws. It may take, for instance, as its major premise, Love is the divine secret of blessedness. Then for its minor premise it may take some plain observed fact, Humility is essential to Love. Then the conclusion or law will be, The humble share the divine life and all the blessings it brings. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Of course no one but a pedant draws out his teaching in this laboured logical form. The syllogism is condensed; the major, and perhaps even the minor, premise is omitted, and often only the conclusion appears.

At its best this method is hard and dry; yet this is the method employed in such sayings as those handed down in the summary called the Sermon on the Mount. Perhaps that is why the teaching of the "Sermon," in spite of its clear-cut form, is much less studied and understood than the teaching of Jesus' life and parables. To recover this largely lost teaching one must warm and moisten the cold, dry terms; supply, when necessary, omitted premises; use some one word rather than many for the often suppressed middle term; and so draw out the latent logic that underlies these laws.

The middle term of all this argument is Love. For that old-fashioned word, in spite of its sentimental associations, much better than its modern scientific synonyms, such as the socialising of the self, expresses that outgoing of the self into the lives of others, which, according to Jesus, is the actual nature of God, the potential nature of man, the secret of individual blessedness and the promise of social salvation.

In the two or three cases where the logic of His principle, applied to our complex modern life, points clearly to a modification of His literal precepts, as in the management of wealth and the bestowal of charity, I shall not hesitate to put the logic of the teaching in place of the letter of the precept, citing the latter afterward for comparison.

A logical commentary like this will be most helpful if it reverses the order usual in commentaries of mere erudition, and introduces the steps of the argument before rather than after the passage they seek to make clear.

In whichever of the three ways it is taught, Love shines by its own light and speaks with its own authority to all who have eyes to see and ears to hear.

A person who loves carries with him a generous light-heartedness, a genial optimism, which show all his friends that he has found some secret which it is worth their while to learn.

Every well-told parable or fable, every artistically constructed novel or play, makes us take sides with the large-hearted hero against the mean, selfish villain.

In the same way Love's formulated laws, showing on what conditions it depends and to what results it leads, convince every one who has the experience by which to interpret them (and only to him who hath experience is interpretation given) that Love is the supreme law of life, and its requirements the right and reasonable conditions of individual and social well-being.

II
THE FULFILMENT OF LAW THROUGH LOVE

Jesus was born in a nation which had developed law to the utmost nicety of detail, and recognised all laws as expressions of the good will of God seeking the welfare of men. Prolonged experiments in living had proved certain kinds of conduct disastrous, and the states of mind corresponding to them, despicable. Law had prohibited this disastrous conduct, and the prophets had denounced these despicable traits.

Of course latent in the prohibitions of law was the constitution of the blessed Kingdom that would result if the law were observed; and dimly foreshadowed in the figurative expressions of the prophets was the vision of the glorified human society that would emerge when the despicable traits should be extirpated and the better order introduced. This negative and latent implication of law Jesus developed into Love as the positive and explicit principle of life; and this figuratively foreshadowed prophet's vision He translated into the actual fact of a community united in Love. He fulfilled the law by putting Love in the heart, and fulfilled the prophets by establishing a community based on Love. Jesus taught us to make every human interest we touch as precious as our own, and to treat all persons with whom we deal as members of that beneficent system of mutual good-will which is the Kingdom of Heaven. But the moment we begin to do that, law as law becomes superfluous; for what the law requires is the very thing we most desire to do: prophecy as prophecy is fulfilled; for the best man's heart can dream has come to pass.

In the ideal home, between well-married husband and wife, child and parent, brother and sister, this sweet law prevails. In choice circles of intimate friends it is found. Jesus extended this interpretation of others in terms of ourselves, and of both others and self in terms of the system of relations in which both self and others inhere, so as to include all the dealing of official and citizen, teacher and pupil, dealer and customer, employer and employee, man and man.

Jesus does not judge us by the formal test of whether we have kept or broken this or that specific commandment, but by the deeper and more searching requirement that our lives shall detract nothing from and add something to the glory of God and the welfare of man.

Is the world a happier, holier, better world because we are here in it, helping on God's good-will for men? If that be the grand, comprehensive purpose of our lives, honestly cherished, frankly avowed, systematically cultivated, then, no matter how far below perfection we may fall, that single purpose, in spite of failure, defeat, and repented sin, pulls us through. If we have this Spirit of Love in our hearts, and if with Christ's help we are trying to do something to make it real in our lives and effective in the world, our eternal salvation is assured. On the other hand, is there a single point on which we deliberately are working evil? Is the lot of any poor man harder, or the life of any unhappy woman more sad and bitter, for aught that we have done or left undone? Is any good institution the weaker, or any bad custom more prevalent, for aught that we are deliberately and persistently withholding of help or contributing of harm? If so, if in any one point we are consciously and unrepentingly arrayed against God's righteous purpose, and the human welfare which is dear to God; if there is a single point on which we are deliberately setting aside His righteous will, and doing intentional evil to the humblest of His children; then, notwithstanding our high rank on other matters, our lack of the right purpose, at even a single point, makes us guilty of the whole; we are unfit for His kingdom.

Jesus' principle of Love, though for clearness and incisiveness often stated in terms of mere altruism, or regard for others, yet taken in its total context, in the light of His never absent reference to the Father's will and the Kingdom of Heaven, is much deeper and broader than that. It gives each man his place and function in the total beneficent system which is the coming Kingdom of God, and then treats him not merely as he may wish to be treated, or we may wish to treat him, but as his place and function in that system require.

Mere altruism is often weakly kind, making others feebly dependent on our benefactions instead of sturdily self-supporting; making others unconsciously egotistic as the result of our superfluous ministrations or uncritical indulgence; and even fostering a subtle egotism in ourselves, as the result of the fatal habit of doing the easy, kind thing rather than the hard, severe thing that is needed to lift them to their highest attainment. A true mother is never half as sentimentally altruistic toward her child as a grandmother or an aunt; she does not hesitate to reprove and correct, when that is what the child needs to suppress the low and lazy, and rouse the higher and stronger self. The just administrator discharges the incompetent and exposes the dishonest employee, not merely because the good of the whole requires it; but because even for the person discharged or exposed, that is better than it would be to allow him to drag out an unprofitable and cumbersome life in tolerated uselessness or countenanced graft.

"Treat both others and yourself as their place and yours in God's coming Kingdom require;" that is the Golden Rule in its complete form. "All things, therefore, whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you" (remembering that both you and they have places and functions in the Father's Kingdom of Love); "even so do ye also unto them: for this is the law and the prophets."

This fulfilment of law is a very different thing from selfishly breaking the law. That such a reformer as Jesus ever took the conservative side of any question seems at first sight so preposterous that most candid critics believe that He never said the words attributed to Him about breaking one of the least of these commandments, or else that He said them in a lost context which would greatly alter their meaning. That, however, is not quite sure. For Love at its best is never rudely iconoclastic. Every good law in its original intent is aimed to lift men out of their sensuality and selfishness into at least an outward conformity to the requirements of social well-being. And however grotesque, fantastic, and superfluous such a law under changed conditions may become, its original intent will always keep it sacred and precious, even after its purpose can be accomplished better without it. To fulfil is not to destroy, or to take delight in destruction. "Think not that I came to destroy the law or the prophets; I came not to destroy, but to fulfil. For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth shall pass away, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass away from the law, till all things be accomplished."

At the same time Love is always changing and superseding laws and institutions by pressure of adjustment to the changing demands of individual and social well-being. Laws and institutions are made for men, rather than men for institutions and laws; and the instant an old law ceases to serve a new need in the best possible way, Love erects the better service into a new law or institution, superseding the old. Any law that fails to promote the physical, mental, social, and spiritual good of the persons and the community concerned, thereby loses Love's sanction and becomes obsolete. Law for law's sake, rather than for the sake of man and society, is the flat denial of Love. To exalt any tradition, institution, custom, or prohibition above the human and social good it has ceased to serve, is to sink to the level of the scribe and Pharisee—the deadliest enemies of Jesus, and all for which He stood. "For I say unto you, that except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven."

In Love's eyes all anger, contempt, and quarrelsomeness are as bad as murder—indeed are incipient murder, stopped short of overt crime through fear. The look, or word, or deed of unkindness, the thought, or wish, or hope that evil may befall another, even the attitude of cold indifference, is murder in the heart. And it is only because we lack the courage to translate wish into will that in such cases we do not do the thing which, if done without our responsibility, by accident or nature, we should rejoice to see accomplished.

From a strange and unexpected source there has come the confirmation of this New Testament conception of the prevalence, not to say the universality, of murder. A brilliant but grossly perverse English man of letters was sentenced to imprisonment a few years ago for the foulest crime. From the gaol in which he was confined there came a most realistic description of the last days and final execution within its walls of a lieutenant in the British army, who was condemned for killing a woman whom he loved.

The poem has the exaggeration of a perverted and embittered nature; but beneath the exaggeration there is the original truth, which underlies Jesus' identification of murder and hate. After describing the last days of the condemned man, his execution and his burial, the poem concludes as follows:—

Charge up against ourselves as murder the bitter looks, the hateful words, the unkind thoughts, the selfish actions, which have lessened the vitality, diminished the joy, wounded the heart, and murdered the happiness of those whom we ought to love, whom perhaps at times we think we do love, and who can profess to be guiltless?

The harboured grudge, the unrepented injury, the offence for which we have not begged pardon, the employer's refusal to "recognise" his employees or their representatives, and treat with them on fair and equal terms, the workman's cultivated attitude of hostility to his employer, are all such flagrant violations of Love that acts of formal piety or public worship on the part of a person who harbours such feelings are an affront.

Controversies, lawsuits, industrial or political warfare in mere pride of opinion, class prejudice, or greed of gain, without first making every effort to respect the rights and protect the interests of the other party and so bring about a reconciliation, are all violations of Love and doom the person who is guilty of them to dwell in the narrow prison-house of a hard and hateful secularity, where the last farthing of exacted penalty must be paid, and hate is lord of life. "Ye have heard that it was said of them of old time, Thou shalt not kill; and whosoever shall kill shall be in danger of the judgment: but I say unto you, that every one who is angry with his brother shall be in danger of the judgment; and whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be in danger of the council; and whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be in danger of the hell of fire. If, therefore, thou art offering thy gift at 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, and then come and offer thy gift. Agree with thine adversary quickly, whiles thou art with him in the way; lest haply the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison. Verily I say unto thee, Thou shalt by no means come out thence, till thou have paid the last farthing."

Marriage to the Christian is an infinitely higher and holier estate than it could have been to any of the earlier schools. It is an opportunity to share with another person the creative prerogative of God. It brings opportunity for Love enhanced by the highest of complementary differences, under circumstances of tenderest intimacy, with the requirement of lifelong constancy.

From Love's point of view any lack of tender reverence for the person of another, whether in or out of marriage sinks man to the plane of the brute. Not that the normal exercise of any appetite or passion is base or evil in itself. All are holy, pure, divine, when Love through them assumes the lifelong responsibilities they involve. All that falls short of such tender reverence and permanent responsibility is lust. Jesus established chastity on the broad, rational basis of respect for the dignity of woman and the sanctity of sex. The logic of His teaching on this point is to place chastity on the eternal rock foundation of treating another only as Love and a true regard for the other's permanent welfare will warrant. In other words, Jesus permits no man to even wish to treat any woman as he would be unwilling another man should treat his own mother, sister, wife, or daughter. For, from His standpoint, all women are our sisters, daughters of the most high God. This standard is searching and severe, no doubt; but it is reasonable and right. There is not a particle of asceticism about it. And the man who violates it is not merely departing a little from the beaten path of approved conventionalities. He is doing a cruel, wanton wrong. He is doing to another what he would bitterly resent if done to one whom he held dear. And what right has any man to hold any woman cheap, a mere means of his selfish gratification, and not an object of his protection, and reverence, and chivalrous regard? The worst mark of uneliminated brutality and barbarism which the civilised world is carrying over into the twentieth century, to curse and blacken and pollute and embitter human life for a few generations more, is this indifference to the Spirit of Love, as it applies at this crucial point.

To destroy a wife's health, to purchase a moment's pleasure at the cost of a woman's lasting degradation, or to participate in practices which doom a whole class of wretched women to short-lived disease and shame, and early and dishonoured death (a recent reliable report estimates the cost of lives from this cause alone in a single city as 5000 a year) is so gross and wanton a perversion of manhood, that in comparison it would be better not to be a man at all.

All the devices for gratifying sexual passions without the assumption of permanent responsibilities, such as seduction, prostitution, and the keeping of mistresses, Christianity brands as the desecration of God's holiest temple, the human body, and the wanton wounding of His most sensitive creation,—woman's heart. The Greeks placed little restriction on man's passions beyond such as was necessary to maintain sufficient physical health and mental vigour to perform his duties as a citizen in peace and in war. If the individual is complete in himself, with no God above who cares, no Christ who would be grieved, no Spirit of Love to reproach, no rights of universal brotherhood and sisterhood to be sensitively respected and chivalrously maintained, then indeed it is impossible to make out a valid claim for severer control in these matters than Plato and Aristotle advocate. If there are persons in the world who are practically slaves, persons who have no claim on our consideration, then licentiousness and prostitution are logical and legitimate expressions of human nature and inevitable accompaniments of human society. Christianity, however, has freed the slave in a deeper and higher sense than the world has yet realised. Christianity does not permit any one who calls himself a Christian to leave any man or woman outside the pale of that consideration which makes this other person's dignity, and interest, and welfare as precious and sacred to him as his own. Obviously all loose and temporary sexual connections involve such degradation, shame, and sorrow to the woman involved, that no one who holds her character, and happiness, and lasting welfare dear to him can will for her these woful consequences. One cannot at the same time be a friend of the kindly, generous, sympathetic Christ and treat a woman in that way. It is for this reason, not on cold, ascetic grounds, that Christianity limits sexual relations to the monogamous family; for there only are the consequences to all concerned such as one can choose for another whom he really loves. If Christianity, at these and other vital points, asks man to give up things which Plato and Aristotle permit, it is not that the Christian is narrower or more ascetic than they; it is because Christianity has introduced a Love so much higher, and deeper, and broader than anything of which the profoundest Greeks had dreamed, that it has made what was permissible to their hard hearts forever impossible for all the more sensitive souls in whom the Love of Christ has come to dwell.

"Ye have heard that it was said, Thou shalt not commit adultery; but I say unto you, that every one that looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart. And if thy right eye causeth thee to stumble, pluck it out, and cast it from thee; for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not thy whole body be cast into hell. And if thy right hand causeth thee to stumble, cut it off, and cast it from thee; for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not thy whole body go into hell."

Divorce is a confession of failure in Love's supreme undertaking. No two Christians, who have caught and kept alive the Spirit of Love in the married state, ever were or ever will be, ever wished to be or ever can be, divorced. No one Christian who has the true Christian Spirit of Love toward husband or wife will ever seek divorce unless it be under such circumstances of infidelity or brutality, neglect or cruelty, as render the continuance of the relation a fruitless casting of the pearls of affection before the swinishness of sensuality. The determination of the grounds on which divorce shall be granted belongs to the sphere of the state, and is a problem of social self-protection. The Christian church makes a serious mistake when it spends its energies in trying to build up legal barriers against divorce. Its real mission at this point is to build up in the hearts of its adherents the Spirit of Love which will make marriage so sweet and sacred that those who once enter it will find, as all true Christians do find, divorce intolerable between two Christians; and tolerable even for one Christian only as a last resort against hopeless and useless degradation. To translate Christ's Spirit into the life of the family is a much more Christian thing to do than to attempt to enact this or that somewhat general and enigmatical answer of His into civil law. It is generally a mistake, a departure from the Spirit of the Master, when the Christian community as such turns from its specific task of positive upbuilding of personality to the legal prohibition of the things that are contrary to the Christian Spirit. Laws and prohibitions, statutes and penalties against drunkenness, Sabbath-breaking, theft, murder, gambling, and divorce, we must have. But those laws and penalties are best devised and enforced by the state, as the representative of the average sentiment of the community as a whole, rather than by the distinctively Christian element in the community, which in the nature of things is very far above the average sentiment. Undoubtedly the Christian Spirit is the only force strong enough to save the family from degeneration and dissolution in this intensely individualistic, independent, materialistic, luxurious age. But we must rely mainly on the Spirit working within, not on a law imposed from without; on the healing touch of the gentle Master, not on the hasty sword of the impetuous Peter.

"It was said also, Whosoever shall put away his wife, let him give her a writing of divorcement; but I say unto you, that every one that putteth away his wife, saving for the cause of fornication, maketh her an adulteress; and whosoever shall marry her when she is put away committeth adultery."

Love fulfils at once the law of truth-telling and the law against swearing; for words spoken in Love need no adventitious support. The appeal to anything outside one's self, and one's simple statement, is clear evidence that there is no Love, and therefore no truth within. Love has no desire to deceive, and hence no fear of being disbelieved. To back up one's words with an oath is to confess one's own lack of confidence in what one is saying, and to invite lack of confidence in others. Anything more than a plain statement of fact or feeling comes out of an insincere or unloving heart. Of course here, as in the case of divorce, what is the obvious and only law for the disciple of Jesus may or may not be wise for the civil authorities to enact into law and impose upon all. If the state and the courts think an oath helpful, the sensible Christian usually will conform to public custom and requirement; even though for him the practice is superfluous and meaningless.

"Again, ye have heard that it was said to them of old time, Thou shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths; but I say unto you, Swear not at all; neither by the heaven, for it is the throne of God; nor by the earth, for it is the footstool of his feet; nor by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, for thou canst not make one hair white or black. But let your speech be, Yea, yea; Nay, nay; and whatsoever is more than these is of the evil one."

Love is slow to take offence, and quick to overlook. Selfishness is sensitive to slights, resentful at wrongs; for it sees others only as their acts affect us. Love seeks out the whole man behind the harsh word or bad deed, takes his point of view, and tries to discover some clue to his concealed better self.

Whether he does well or ill, Love lets us appeal to nothing less than his best self, and do nothing less than what on the whole is best for him and for the community to which he and we both belong. Hence, whether we give or withhold what he specifically asks (and Love enlightened by modern sociology tells us we usually must withhold from beggars and tramps what they ask), in either case we shall not consult merely our personal convenience and impulse, but do what we should wish to have done to us, for the sake of society and for our own good as members of society, if we were in his unfortunate plight. "Ye have heard that it was said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth; but I say unto you, Resist not him that is evil, but whosoever smiteth thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if any man would go to law with thee, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also. And whosoever shall compel thee to go one mile, go with him twain. Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away."

Love is kind to the evil and vicious, and magnanimous to the hostile and hateful. Kindness in return for favours received or in hope of favours to come; kindness to those whose conduct and character we admire, is all very well in its way, but is no sign whatever that he who is kind on these easy terms is a true child of Love. To share the great Love of God one must go out freely to all, regardless of return or desert,—be impartial as sunshine and shower.

When our enemy is plotting to harm us, to break down our good name, to injure those whom we love, even while we defend ourselves and our dear ones against his malice and meanness, we must be secretly watching our chances to do him a good turn, and win him from hatred to Love. Nothing less than this complete identification with the interests of all the persons we in any way touch, however bad some of their acts, however unworthy some of their traits, can make us sharers and receivers, agents and bestowers of that perfect Love which is at once the nature of God, the capacity of man, the fulfilment of law, and the condition of social well-being.

"Ye have heard that it was said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thy enemy; but I say unto you, Love your enemies, and pray for them that persecute you, that ye may be sons of your Father which is in heaven; for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sendeth rain on the just and the unjust. For if ye love them that love you, what reward have ye? do not even the publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others? do not even the Gentiles the same? Ye therefore shall be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect."

III
THE COUNTERFEITS OF LOVE

Just because Love is so costly, it has a host of counterfeits. These counterfeits are chiefly devices for gaining the rewards and honours of Love, without the effort and sacrifice of loving. One of the most obvious rewards of Love is being thought kind, generous, good. But this can be secured, apparently, by professing religion, joining the church, repeating the creed, giving money to the poor, subscribing large sums to good causes,—all of which are much cheaper and easier than being kind, and true, and faithful, and considerate in the home, on the farm, in the factory, in the store. Yet Jesus tells us that unless we have Love in the close and intimate relations of our domestic, economic, social, and political life, all symbols of its presence elsewhere, all "services" directed otherwise, become intolerable nuisances, whose places would be better filled, and whose work better done, if they were once well out of the way and decently buried. All this, however, is not to deny, but by contrast to affirm, the great indispensable uses of symbols, officers, and institutions that are genuinely and effectively devoted to the cultivation and propagation of Love.

The pure gold of the Spirit is most conveniently and effectually circulated when mixed with the alloy of rites, ceremonies, creeds, officers, and organisations. Though no essential part of the pure Gospel, yet these forms and observances, these bishops and clergy, these covenants and confessions, are as practically useful for the maintenance and spread of the Christian Spirit as courts and constitutions, governors and judges, are for the orderly conduct of the state. Their authority is founded on their practical utility. When their utility ceases, when they come to obscure rather than reveal the Spirit they are intended to express, then schism and reformation serve the same beneficent purpose in the church that declarations of independence and revolution have so often achieved in the state. That form of church government is best which in any given age and society works best; and this may well be concentrated personal authority in one set of circumstances, and democratic representative administration in another. Each has its advantages and its disadvantages.

Modes of worship rest on the same practical basis. Spontaneous prayer or elaborate ritual, much or little participation by the people, long or short sermons, prayer-meetings or no prayer-meetings,—all are to be determined by the test of practical experience. It is absurd to profess to draw hard and fast rules about these matters from the precept or practice of Jesus and His Apostles, or the early church fathers, working as they did under conditions so widely different from our own. Probably centralised authority and elaborate ritual are most effective when bishops and priests can be found who will not abuse their power for their own aggrandisement. Until then, more democratic forms of worship and of government are doubtless more expedient. The friendly competition of the two systems side by side helps to keep sacerdotalism modest and make independency effective.

Creeds likewise have their practical usefulness, especially in times of theological ferment and transition, serving the purposes of party platforms in a political campaign. But it is the grossest perversion of their function to make assent to them obligatory on all who wish to enjoy the most intimate Christian fellowship, or to test Christian character by their formulas. One might as well refuse citizenship to every person who could not assent to every word in some party platform or other. The creed is an intellectual formulation of the results of Christian experience, interpreting the Christian revelation; and it will vary from age to age with ripening experience, and maturer views of the content of the revelation. No creed was altogether false at the time of its formulation. No creed in Christendom is such as every intelligent Christian can honestly assent to. The attempt to make creed subscription a test of church membership, or even a condition of ministerial standing, is sure to confuse intellectual and spiritual things to the serious disadvantage of both. The most sensitively honest men will more and more decline to enter the service of the church, until subscription to antiquated formulas, long since become incredible to the majority of well-trained scholars, ceases to be required either literally or "for substance of doctrine." It is sufficient that each candidate for the ministry be asked to make his own statement, either in his own words or in the words of any creed he finds acceptable, leaving it for his brethren to decide whether or not such intellectual statement is consistent with that spiritual service which is to be his chief concern. Unless Christianity, in the persons of its leaders as well as of its laity, can breathe as free an intellectual atmosphere as that of Stoic or Epicurean, Plato or Aristotle, it will at this point prove itself their inferior. Infinitely superior as it is in every other respect, it is a burning shame that its timid and conservative modern adherents should endeavour, at this point of absolute intellectual openness and integrity, to place it at a disadvantage with the least noble of its ancient competitors. The pure Spirit of Love will win the devotion of all honest hearts and candid minds. But the insistence on these antiquated formulas is sure to repel an increasing number of the most thoughtful and enlightened from organised Christian fellowship. The only serious reason for preferring the independent to the hierarchical forms of church organisation at the present time is the tendency of the latter to keep up these forms of intellectual imposition and imposture. Until the church as a whole shall rise to the standards of intellectual honesty now universally prevalent in the world of secular science, the mission of the independent protest will remain but partially fulfilled. "Ye are the salt of the earth; but if the salt have lost its savour, wherewith shall it be salted? It is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out and trodden under foot of men."

Any thought of the reputation or respectability or honour a right act will bring, just because it puts something else in place of Love, destroys the rightness of the act and the righteousness of the doer. Righteousness will always remain a dry, dreary, forbidding, impossible thing until we welcome right as the service of those whom we love, and the promotion of interests we share with them; and shrink from wrong as what harms them and defeats our common ends. Without Love, righteousness either dries up into a cold, hard asceticism, or evaporates into a hollow, formal respectability; and in one way or the other misses the spontaneity and expansion of soul which is Love's crown and joy. "Take heed that ye do not your righteousness before men, to be seen of them: else ye have no reward of your Father which is in heaven."

Love is too intent on its objects to be aware of itself or call attention to its own operations. The air of doing a favour takes all the Love out of an act; for Love gives so simply and quietly that it seems to ask rather than bestow the favour. In this way both giver and receiver together share Love's distinctive reward of two lives bound together as one in the common Love of the Father.

"When therefore thou doest alms, sound not a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men. Verily I say unto you, They have received their reward. But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth, that thine alms may be in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall recompense thee."

Professed Love, if unfruitful or pernicious, is false. If we make no one happier; help no one over hard places; bind no wounds; comfort no sorrows; serve no just cause; do no good work; still worse, if we make any one's lot harder; add to his burden or sorrow; corrupt public officials; break down beneficent institutions; plunder the poor, even if within technical legal forms; drive the weak to the wall; and connive in the perversion of justice,—then the absence of good fruits, or the presence of bad ones, is proof positive that we have never seen or known Love, that our profession of Love is a lie, our proper place is with Love's foes, and our destiny with the doers of evil.

"Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly are ravening wolves. By their fruits ye shall know them. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but the corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. Therefore by their fruits ye shall know them. Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy by thy name, and by thy name cast out devils, and by thy name do many mighty works? And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you; depart from me, ye that work iniquity."

Neither eloquent speech nor elegant writing, neither ornate ceremonial nor orthodox symbol, nor anything short of actual toil to serve human need and help human joy can translate Love into life. Though the most beautiful idea in the world, the mere idea of Love is of no more value than any other mere idea. If it fails of expression in hard, costly deeds, its ritualistic or verbal profession is a sham. In Love's service, so far as things done are concerned, there is no high or low, first or last. To preach sermons and conduct religious services, to teach science in the university, or make laws in Congress, is no better and no worse than to make shoes in the shoeshop or cook food in the kitchen. All work done in Love counts, stands, endures. All work done in vanity and self-seeking, all work shirked with pretence of religion, or excuse of wealth, or pride of social station, leaves the soul hard, hollow, unreal, and fails to stand Love's searching test.

"Every one therefore which heareth these words of mine, and doeth them, shall be likened unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock; and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house, and it fell not, for it was founded upon the rock. And every one that heareth these words of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand; and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and smote upon that house, and it fell; and great was the fall thereof."

IV
THE WHOLE-HEARTEDNESS OF LOVE

Love asks for the whole heart or nothing; and all the heart has, be it little or much, must go with it. The pursuit or possession of wealth, as an end in itself, or a means to mere selfish ends, will drive Love out of the soul.

All the wealth we can give to Love's service is most useful and welcome; but the retention of any for miserly pride, or vain ostentation, or indolent uselessness for ourselves or our children, fills the heart so full of self that Love can find there no room. Not that giving away all one has is essential or desirable; but that every dollar one gives, spends, keeps, invests, or controls be held subject to the orders of Love.

Wealth is not so essential to the Christian as it was to Epicurus and Aristotle, for God can be glorified and man can be served with very little furniture of fortune; and therefore the Christian is able, in whatsoever material state he is, therewith to be content. On the other hand, the Christian cares more for money than either the Stoic or Plato; for there are ranges in God's universe of beauty, truth, and goodness which cannot be æsthetically appreciated and artistically and scientifically appropriated without large expenditure of labour and the wealth by which labour is supported; and there are wide spheres of business enterprise and social service essential to human welfare which only the rich man or nation can effectively promote. Divine and human service is possible in poverty; it is more effective and at the same time more difficult in wealth. The Christian rich and the Christian poor serve the same Lord, and have the same Spirit; but the accomplishment of the Christian rich man can be so much greater than that of the Christian widow with her mite, that the Christian who is strong enough to stand it is in duty bound to treat money as a talent which in all just ways he ought to multiply. On the contrary, the moment it begins to make him less sympathetic, less generous, less thankful, less responsible, he must give it away as the only alternative to the loss of his soul, the deterioration of his personality.

"Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon the earth, where moth and rust doth consume, and where thieves break through and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasure in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth consume, and where thieves do not break through nor steal, for where thy treasure is, there will thy heart be also."

Toward science and art, business and politics, the application of the Christian Spirit is different from anything we have met before. The Christian will not shirk these things, like the Epicurean and the Stoic; because they are ways of serving that truth, beauty, welfare, and order which are included in the Father's will for all His human children. In all these things we are co-workers with God for the good of man. Diligence and enthusiasm, devotion and self-sacrifice in one or more of these directions is the imperative duty, the inestimable privilege of every one who would be a grateful and obedient son of God, a helpful and efficient brother to his fellow-men.

Yet in all his devotion to science or art, in all the energy with which he gives himself to business or politics, the Christian can never forget that God is greater than any one of these points at which we come in contact with Him; and that, when we have done our utmost in one or another of these lines, we are still comparatively unprofitable servants in His vast household. As God is more than the thing at which we work, so the Christian, through relation to Him, is always more than his work. He never lets his personality become absorbed and evaporated in the work he does; but ever renews his personal life at the fountain which is behind the special work he undertakes to do. Thus the true Christian is never without some useful social work to do; and he never lets himself get lost in doing it. To keep this balance of energy in the task and elevation above it, which enables one to take success without elation and bear failure without depression, is perhaps the crowning achievement of practical Christianity.

"The lamp of the body is the eye; if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If, therefore, the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is the darkness! No man can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one, and love the other, or else he will hold to one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon."

He who heartily loves and serves others will trust Love in God and his fellows to take proper care of himself. One who really loves others will take reasonable care not to be a burden to them, and to the world, and will avail himself of the insurance company, the savings bank, and the bond market as the devices of a complex modern society to distribute losses and conserve gains to the common advantage of all. Love does not make the individual or his family a parasite on the economy and industry of society. Love makes a man bear his own permanent burden as a preliminary to being of much use and no harm to his family, his friends, and his community. Such prudent provision of the means of Love's independence and service is consistent with entire absence of worry about one's personal fortunes. The essential question which Love, and Jesus as the Lord and Master of Love, puts to a man is not "How much money have you?" but "What use do you intend to make of whatever you have, be that little or much?" If that aim is selfish, and the money is either saved or spent in sordid, worried selfishness, that low aim makes the money a curse. If held subject to whatever drafts Love may make upon it,—whether gifts to the poor, or support of good causes, or employment of honest workmen, or development of industrial enterprises, be the form Love's drafts take,—then all wealth so held is a blessing to the world and an honour to its owner, a glory to God and a service to man.

"Therefore I say unto you, Be not anxious 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 the food, and the body than the raiment? Behold the birds of the heaven, that they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; and your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are not ye of much more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add one cubit unto his stature? And why are ye anxious concerning raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God doth 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? Be not therefore anxious, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? For after all these things do the Gentiles seek; for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things."

Though material means sought as ends are fatal to Love, Love's ends kept in view insure needed means. To worry about to-morrow is to fail in devotion to the tasks of to-day, and so spoil both days. To do our best work to-day is to gain power for to-morrow. Competition complicates, but does not render insoluble, the problem of making all that we have and all that we do express Love to all whom our action affects. To be sure, there are city slums, uninsured accidents and sickness, unsanitary tenements, unjust conditions of labour, where even the service of Love does not bring to the worker appropriate means and rewards; but it is because Love has not quite kept pace at these points with swift-moving modern conditions. But public spirit, political progress, economic reform, are more sensitive to these violations of its laws than ever before, and eagerly bent on finding and applying the remedy,—more Love of all for each, and each for all.

"But seek ye first his kingdom, and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you. Be not therefore anxious for the morrow, for the morrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."

Love throws off all that hampers its action, as a runner his coat for a race. Love requires the sound body, the clear mind, the strong will, the sensitive heart, and foregoes all indulgences that impair these things, though in themselves innocent as eating and drinking. Yet Love makes no fuss about its sacrifices, takes them as a simple matter of course, not worth mentioning; for what Love gives up in mere sensuous indulgence is as nothing to the widened affections and enlarged interests gained. To be solemn or sad over what we give up, to proclaim or parade one's self-denials, would be an insult to Love; it would show that the persons we love and the causes we serve are not really as dear to our hearts as the pitiful things we forego for their sake—would show that our Love was a sham.

All pleasure that comes from healthy exercise of body, rational exercise of mind, sympathetic expansion of the affections, strenuous effort of the will, in just and generous living, is at the same time a glorifying of God and an enrichment of ourselves. All pleasure which sacrifices the vigour of the body to the indulgence of some separate appetite, all pleasure which enslaves or degrades or embitters the persons from whom it is procured, all pleasure which breaks down the sacred institutions on which society is founded,—is shameful and debasing, a sin against God, and a wrong to our own souls. The Christian will forego many pleasures which Epicurus and even Aristotle would permit, because he is infinitely more sensitive than they to the effect his pleasures have on poor men and unprotected women whose welfare these earlier teachers did not take into account. On the other hand, the Christian will enter heartily into the joys of pure domestic life, and the delights of struggle with untoward social and political conditions, from which Plato and the Stoics thought it honourable to withdraw. Where God can be glorified and men can be served, there the Christian will either find his pleasure, or with optimistic art, create a pleasure that he does not find.

"Moreover when ye fast, be not, as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance; for they disfigure their faces, that they may be seen of men to fast. Verily I say unto you, They have received their reward. But thou, when thou fastest, anoint thy head, and wash thy face, that thou be not seen of men to fast, but of thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father, which seeth in secret, shall recompense thee."

Just because Love includes the interests of all the persons we deal with, it excludes all mean, selfish traits from our hearts. There can be no pride and guile, no lust and cruelty, no avarice and hypocrisy, no malice and censoriousness, in a heart which welcomes to its interest and affection, and serves and loves as its own, the aims and needs of its fellows. That is why Love's true disciples are few, and the slaves of selfishness many. Ask how many,—not entirely succeed, for none do,—but how many make it the constant aim of their lives to treat others as more widely extended aspects of themselves, and, in order to do that, endeavour to keep out all the greed, hate, lust, pride, envy, jealousy, that would draw lines between self and others, and we see the answer: that the way must be narrow, a way few find, and still fewer follow when found.

"Enter ye in by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many be they that enter in thereby. For narrow is the gate, and straitened the way, that leadeth unto life, and few be they that find it."

V
THE CULTIVATION OF LOVE

Love is so akin to our nature, so eager to enter our souls, that to want is to get it; to seek is to find it; to open our hearts to its presence is to discover it already there. Whoever knows what true prayer is—the intense, eager yearning for good of insistent, importunate hearts—knows that there never was and never can be one unanswered prayer. No man who has longed to have Love the law of his life, and struggled for it as a miser struggles for money, or a politician strives to win votes, ever failed to get what he wanted. For every person we meet gives occasion for Love, and every situation in life affords a chance to express it. The difficulty is not to get all we want, but to want all we can have for the asking.

"Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you, for every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. Or what man is there of you, who, if his son shall ask him for a loaf, will give him a stone, or if he shall ask for a fish, will give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?"

Love will not grow in our hearts without deep, unseen communion with the Spirit of Love, who is God. To dwell reverently on the Infinite Love; to keep in one's heart a sacred place where His holy name is adored; to eagerly seek for Love's coming in our own hearts, in the hearts of all men, and in all the affairs of the world; to gratefully receive all material blessings as gifts for use in Love's service; to beseech for ourselves and bestow on others that forgiveness which is Love's attitude toward our human frailties and failings; to fortify ourselves in advance against the allurements of sense, and the base desire to gain good for ourselves at cost of evil to others; to remember that all right rule, all true strength, all worthy honour inhere in and flow from Love, and Love's Father, God,—to do this day by day sincerely and simply without formality or ostentation,—this is to pray, and to insure prayer's inevitable answer—a life through which Love freely flows to bless both the world and ourselves.

"And when ye pray, ye shall not be as the hypocrites, for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have received their reward. But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thine inner chamber, and having shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret, and thy Father which seeth in secret shall recompense thee. And in praying use not vain repetitions, as the Gentiles do; for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking. Be not therefore like unto them; for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him. After this manner therefore pray ye: Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, as in heaven, so on earth. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And bring us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one."

Our only ground of assurance that Love forgives us is our loving forgiveness of others. In the light of that fact of experience it is easy and obvious to believe that the Father whose children we are, is not less loving and forgiving than we. If we restore to our esteem and friendship those who have wronged us, then we are sure that Love at the heart of the Universe, Love in the Father, Love in all the Father's true children, fully and freely forgives us. If we have this experience of our own forgiveness of our fellows, we know that Love would not be Love, but hate, God would not be God, but a devil, if any sincerely repented wrong or shortcoming of which we have been guilty could remain unforgiven.

"For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses."

To judge harshly another man's failings, however bad they may be, shows that we are less loving than he. For he may have failed through strength of appetite, or heat of passion,—failings that are still consistent with Love; but harsh judgment has no such excuse, and is therefore a deadly—that is, loveless—sin. We would never think of proclaiming to the idly curious or the coldly critical the failings of one whom we love; hence proclamations of any one's failings is a sure sign that we have no Love for him, and as long as there are any whom we do not love and protect, we have no part or lot in the great Love of God. Yet such charitableness does not forbid our practical judgment of the difference between sheep and wolves, good men and bad, when important issues are involved. That Love requires. What it forbids is the rolling as a sweet morsel under our tongue, and the gleeful recital to others, of the mistake or the sin of another, as something in which we take mean delight because we think it makes him inferior to ourselves.