victim, into perdition. Our
operations may not be nice, but young men soon find out, or they think
they do, that it is success, not charity, which covers a multitude of
sins. Hence the new commandment: "With all thy getting, get success"--

"Get place and wealth, if possible with grace,
If not, by any means get wealth and place."

The clamant need of our day is a clear teaching that shall appeal to us
all, but especially to young men, as to what are the things that cannot
be shaken, the things inseparable from a human life that is worth
living. It is easy to part with our fine sense of integrity, but, once
it is gone, it is the hardest thing in the world to recover. There are
more senses than one in which we may speak of riches that are "beyond
the dreams of avarice." The most valuable possession any man can have
is the fight, either in his own conscience or to the world, to affirm
himself to be an honest man. And the position I shall maintain in this
address is, that there can be no sure success without honesty. Nor
shall I speak about "absolute honesty" or the "strictest honesty," for
I agree with those who say that there is but one degree of honesty. It
is not a quality with grades and modulations. As well think, or try to
think, of grades and modulations in the chastity of man and woman.
Honesty, like chastity, is, or it is not.

We are often told that, from the lowest possible commercial standpoint,
honesty is not only the best policy, it is the only policy. Whether or
not it is the only policy depends upon the meaning we import into the
term; of this I am sure--it is the best policy. But I shall not urge
this doctrine upon you from the lower standpoint. That might do more
than insult your intelligence; it would, I trust, offend against your
moral self-respect. I assume that you all would hold it true with
Archbishop Whately when he says, that though "honesty is the best
policy, he is not an honest man who is honest for that reason." If,
then, these latter remarks can carry the weight I want them to bear,
what of those that have preceded them? How are we to explain a
sentiment which is virtually a religion, having this one article for
its creed: that honesty, while good as an ideal, cannot be invariably
relied upon for practical concerns? How is it that so many men have to
discover, when they are no longer young, that the thing which has
passed from them and which they cannot recall is, afte