labour of
love always find one. He was alone; he could neither cure the
unfortunate man there nor carry him away. To make the attempt might
bring the robbers down from their fastnesses upon himself, and thus he
should only throw away a good life after a damaged one. Right well
would he justify himself that evening as he told his adventure in the
pass to his friends or his family in Jericho. Love saw no excuses for
leaving the man lying in his blood, for it was not looking for them; but
selfishness saw them at a glance, and would have created them in plenty
if there had been none at hand.

In like manner also a Levite came to the spot, looked for a moment on
the sufferer, and passed on.

At last a Samaritan came up; and when he saw the wounded man "he had
compassion on him." The root of the matter lies here: "Out of the
abundance of the heart the mouth speaks," and the hand labours; the
fountain is opened, and you may expect to see a flowing stream. Love in
presence of human suffering takes the form of compassion; and love in
all its forms tends to express itself in action: compassion issues in
help.

In this case evidently compassion was the secret force that produced all
the subsequent beneficence: yet we must not too readily count that all
is safe for practical efficiency, when in presence of a brother's
suffering this tender emotion begins to flutter about the heart. As the
heart itself is deceitful, so also in turn are each of its affections;
even those that in name and nature are good may swerve aside after they
have sprung, and degenerate into selfishness. Probably both the priest
and the Levite experienced some compassion as they looked on the pale
and bleeding victim of lawless violence; perhaps they went away pleased
with themselves on account of their tenderness, and somewhat angry with
the wounded man for being wounded, and so hurting their sensibilities.
The best things corrupted become the worst; and sometimes the sight of
distress among poorer neighbours stirs into fermentation some of the
worst elements of character in the comfortable classes. A little water
may spring in the bottom of the well; but if it do not increase so as to
fill the cavity, and freely overflow, it will become fetid where it
lies, and more noisome than utter dryness. It is quite possible, as to
emotion, to be very languishing over the misfortunes of others, and yet
do the unfortunate as little good as the misanthrope who laughs at