bus," -"And a Few Other Things."

But

even thus he did not record all that is knowable. Everybody we meet knows more than we do about something. And, after all, the really important thing is to be rather than to know. Character is better than culture. And culture sometimes endangers character by imparting this foolish pharisaical spirit of mistaken superiority.

Take, also, the case of social contempt; the feeling, "I am politer than thou." This is the most unchristian element in society. It puts barriers between "classes," erects walls of caste. Christian courtesy is never guilty of contempt. The essence of good manners is consideration for the feelings of others. Whoever fails in thoughtfulness for the humblest household servant betrays vulgarity, and is a social Pharisee.

Then there is religious contempt, which says, "I am better than thou." Ah, but are you? That is what this mistaken Pharisee mistakenly imagined.

And thus we learn our lesson in humility. God rejected the proud and gave his benediction to the humble.

DISPOSITION AND DUTY.

"A man had two sons; and he came to the first, and said, Son, go work to-day in the vineyard. And he answered and said, I will not; but afterward he repented himself, and went. And he came to the second, and said likewise. And he answered and said, I go, sir; and went not."- ST. MATT. xxi. 26.

is

NOTHING can take the place of obedience. It very well to be respectful and good-mannered, like this second son, and to be prompt at promising; but if that is all, then it is worse than nothing. The second son, with his polite, deferential "I go, sir," not only disobeyed his father, but also lied to him.

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The second son is the man who makes hearty and reverent response to the reading of the commandments in church on Sunday, and then breaks five or six of them on Monday. "Thou shalt not steal," says the minister. "Lord have mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to keep this law," says the man; and then for six days he devotes himself, body, mind, and spirit, to every variety of respectable stealing known to the world of trade.

Or the second son is a daughter; the second "Thou shalt do no murder,"

son is a woman.

says the minister. "Lord, have mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to keep this law," says the woman; and all the rest of the week, with words softer than butter, which yet are very swords, she stirs up strife, causes pain, strikes at people's hearts.

Jesus had in mind the chief priests and elders of the people. They seemed to be religious. Who could be more attentive than they were to all the externals of religion? Who could go to church oftener than they did? Who could be more orthodox in creed, more precise in ritual, more mindful of conventionalities? Everybody could hear them saying, "I go, sir." And yet Jesus said to them that even publicans and harlots would precede them into the kingdom of heaven. These eminently respectable citizens and churchmen Jesus accounted as worse than the avaricious tax-collectors with whom no decent folk would associate; while there were women of the street in that town whom he declared to stand higher in the esteem of God than some of the ladies who adorned the society of Jerusalem.

That is as true to-day as it was then. God

is not deceived by good manners. He is not deluded by smooth phrases. His knowledge of us is not confined to the information that we give him in our prayers. He does not lose sight of us when we go out of the church door. We cannot cheat God by a long face, or by a pious accent, or by a devout attitude. We may say, "I go, sir," in the most humble and obedient and filial tone of voice imaginable. God waits to see if we really go. And if we go not, all our pretences count for nothing.

I ask your especial attention, however, to the case of the first son. Evidently his whole inclination was against going; he had no mind to work that day in the vineyard. Afterward he repented himself. But that does not mean that he was seized with a great longing for labor, and that when he went he carried a ready mind and a cheerful spirit with him. Probably even as he obeyed he moved reluctantly. He had other plans for that morning. His conscience may have troubled him as he reflected upon his disrespectful speech, and thus he finally obeyed. But that was hardly ideal obedience.

Under such conditions was this man's obedience of any worth? Having the mind that he had, not really interested in his father's work,

detesting vineyards, might he not have said to himself, "If I go, I will be playing the hypocrite. I will appear to be a good son when I am not. It will seem to others that I am working willingly, while in truth nothing impels me to this task except the pricks of my inconvenient conscience." And, saying this, might he not properly have stayed at home?

We are most of us aware in our own experience of this alternative between disposition and duty. We lack the proper disposition; ought we, then, to undertake the duty? This is such a frequent question that we will do well to study it, and see if we can get some sort of serviceable answer.

Let me make the question perfectly plain by an illustration. It is the hour at which we are accustomed to say our prayers; but we are not in the spirit of prayer. We are tired, or it is late, and we are half-asleep, or something has gone wrong; we are perturbed in spirit, in an unchristian temper, possessed of the devil; or doubts beset us, and we ask ourselves whether it is of any use to pray, whether God hears prayer or answers prayer. Somehow, we are not at all in a prayerful mood. Shall we, then, as we have been accustomed at this hour, kneel