one to whom
such beauty was desirable and satisfying, there were thousands who
would prefer the brisk interchange of life, the race-course, the
athletic spectacle, the restaurant, the tap-room. Was this, indeed,
religion at all? I wondered. It did, indeed, use the language of
religion, surround itself with the memories of saints, the holy wisdom
of the ages. But what was the end of it? Did it inspire those who heard
it with the desire to win, to sustain, to ameliorate other souls? Did
it inculcate the tender affection, the self-sacrifice, the meek
devotion that Christ breathed into life? Did it not rather tend to
isolate the soul in a paradise of art, to consecrate the pursuit of
individual emotion? It is hard to imagine that a spirit who has plunged
into the intoxication of sensuous delight that such a solemnity brings
would depart without an increased aversion to all that was loud and
rude, wife an intensified reluctance to mingle with the coarser throng.
Was it not utterly alien to the spirit of Christ thus to seclude
oneself in light and warmth, among sweet strains of music and holy
pictures? I do not doubt that these delights have a certain ennobling
effect upon the spirit; but are they a medicine for the sorrows of the
world? are they not rather the anodyne for sensitive spirits fond of
tranquil ease?

I could not restrain the thought that if a man of sensitive nature is
penetrated with the spirit of Christ first, if the passion of his soul
to seek and save the lost is irresistible, if his faith runs clear and
strong, he might win a holy refreshment from these peaceful, sweet
solemnities. But the danger is for those who have no such unselfish
enthusiasm, and who are tempted, under the guise of religion, to yield
themselves with a sense of fastidious complacency to what are, after
all, mere sensuous delights. Is it right to countenance such error? If
piety frankly said, "These things are no part of religion at all; they
are only a pure region of spiritual beauty, a garden of refreshment
into which a pilgrim may enter by the way; only a mere halting-place, a
home of comfort,"--then I should feel that it would be a consistent
attitude. But if it is only a concession to the desire of beauty, if it
distracts men from the purpose of Christ, if it is a mere bait for
artistic souls, then I cannot believe that it is justified.

While I thus pondered, the anthem rose loud and sweet upon the air; all
the pathos, the desir