ful illustration of the principle of unification I am speaking of. As love makes man one with Divinity so too it makes man one with humanity. Through devoted love the child is absorbed in the Father on the one hand, and in the vast family of His children on the other hand. It is universally admitted that self is a disturbing agent in all enterprises of charity and philanthropy, and is a foe to love. The fetters that bind man to himself must necessarily prevent his being drawn to others. Hence self-sacrifice is a necessity in the kingdom of love. Love comes in when self has gone out. Love grows as self withers away. True charity may be defined as the immersion of self in the wide sea of humanity,-the identification of the individual with the entire human race. It is, in its essence, universal, unlimited and unconditioned. It is the love of humanity for its own sake, the love of man as such. We must love man because he is our Father's child, our brother in the universal family, and not on account of any special recommendation. It is not merit or friendship that entitles a brother to our affections. It is not on account of any peculiar attractions in him that he claims our love. The common brotherly relationship which subsists among us all is enough for the purposes of mutual affection. What more do we need to love each other than a recognition of our mutual relations as brothers and sisters? I love man because he is my brother, and woman because she is my sister. The relationship is all in all, and excites love by its natural sweetness, If we love our benefactors alone, those to whom we are drawn by special claims of gratitude, or our kinsmen only, to whom we are bound by domestic ties, we have not the fulness of love in us. If we love friends alone, and

turn away from those who maltreat and persecute us, our love for man is partial and exclusive. Catho. lic charity makes no distinction between friends and foes, between countrymen and foreigners, between kinsmen and the outside world, but embraces all mankind indiscriminately. Love has no other wherefore than this, that man is a brother and woman a sister. A brother is sweet, though a multitude of infirmities and sins beset him; a sister is ever dear, however hostile she may be. This theory, so simple, so clear, is not generally acted upon. Only what is good and estimable in men and things do we love. We shun those who are disagreeable. We hate our enemies. So dark and dismal is the picture of human society, so revolting the many forms of sin and wickedness which ride rampant everywhere, and so repulsive are all classes of men to our feelings and interests, that we often wish to withdraw from society, and pass our days in solitary retirement. Not a few pious believers, possessed of lofty ideas of duty and devotion, feeling annoyed with the vexations and troubles of the world, have actually left the world and resigned themselves to lonely communion with God. Who would not run away when the world is up in arms? Yet true religion does not sanction such ignoble and selfish retreat. "Go and serve every man and woman," says the Lord. We are bound to love and serve all, however disagreeable and antagonistic they may be. We must love even our enemies. For though enemies they are still our brothers and sisters. If it be contended that that alone can be loved which is lovable, and that those who render themselves disagreeable to us by sin or opposition cannot, therefore, be loved, I would reply by saying that I admit the premises though I deny the inference. Amid

all the repulsive feature of degraded humanity there is an attraction in it which cannot fail to win our love. It consists simply in the fraternal relation in which all men stand to each other. This relationship is at once sweet and enduring, and abides in spite of all adverse circumstances. Some men may be friendly, others hostile to us; some may be beautiful, others deformed; some may be rich, others poor; some may be saints, others sinners; some may be kinsmen, others perfect strangers yet all are and shall continue to be related to us as brothers or sisters. Hence they are all dear to us, and we can love them with true brotherly love. All are lovable to us because of this sweet and universal relation. We may admire the excellencies of some, hate the sins of others, and be specially attached to friends and relatives, but our love instinctively runs to all who claim it in the name of brothers and sisters. In loving all mankind we love only what is lovable. If you admit that all mankind are God's children, we are bound to give our loving regards and services, freely and unreservedly, to all. But in what sense are we to love all mankind? Let us apply the argument of self-abnegation already explained, and we shall find that universal love means a going out of self and its absorption in humanity. Philanthropy makes the wide world its home, and dwells there. If I love mankind I must sacrifice and exterminate myself, and so far identify my interests with those of the world as to regard my neighbour as my own self, and the world as my home. Self must be altogether forgotten and all our thoughts and affections absorbed in the interests of humanity. Deep sympathy makes us one with the world; its sorrows become our sorrows, and its joys our joys. True love is a

pilgrim that has left home and gone away, never to return. Like a homeless traveller it wanders about in all parts of the world, and makes other people's homes its resting place. It is an eternal exile from home. A truly philanthropic man lives within everybody else but his own self, and in every place except his own home. He dwells in the world, and the world dwells in him. Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, freighted with their myriad souls, must course through my veins if I am a true lover of humanity. The entire world must be lodged in my little heart, from which self has been banished. Where is humanity? In me. Where am I? In humanity. So says the true philanthropist. Behold this wonderful exchange of homes! I go out of myself to dwell in the world, while the world comes to dwell in me. There is also a mutual incorporation. By love we are incorporated with humanity, and humanity is incorporated with us. Our flesh and blood become the flesh and blood of all mankind, while their flesh and blood become assimilated to and identified with ours. Hence is it that what touches them touches us to the quick, and we feel just as they feel, being joyful when they rejoice and sorrowful when they weep. In such incorporation we see a perpetual celebration of the sacrament known as the Lord's Supper, in which the world eats the flesh and drinks the blood of the self-sacrificing martyr.

I shall now draw your attention to certain popular delusions in connection with the principles under consideration. These delusions, inasmuch as they are supported by the weight of popular sanction and are productive of incalculable mischief in the moral world, require to be completely exposed and refuted. Let me begin with that well-known proverb→→

Charity begins at home. Apparently it embodies a wise principle, and it is therefore universally accepted as a sound rule of ethics. Careful reflection will, however, convince us that it is an erroneous and false doctrine. Charity does not begin at home. In fact charity never had a home. It is born to wander; it lives and moves abroad. It feels at home only when it is not at home. How can it begin at home when the renunciation of home is the beginning of its mission. It is only worldly prudence and the calculating policy of expediency that has led men in all ages to do good, first to self, then to family, then to kinsmen and neighbours, then to fellow-countrymen, and lastly to the world at large. But true charity hates this utilitarian process, and will not obey the world's dictates as to where it ought to begin and where it ought to end. Charity goes where it is Divinely called, and moves about freely under heavenly impulses,-now here, now there, now everywhere. If charity has a beginning at all it may be said to begin in the homes of others. Its concern is only with others, and it can live only by ignoring self and home. If it be true then that charity is born in the wide world, and can have no home of its own, let us not be misled by that erroneous worldly maxim "Charity begins at home."

You have heard of the Golden Rule: "Do unto others as you would that they should do to you.' It may be a golden doctrine, and may, if fully carried out, prove a source of blessings to our wicked world, where self is so dominant. But we want something more precious than gold. To be able to benefit others up to the standard of our self-love is indeed benevolence, but benevolence of a low order. Heaven teaches us a much higher doctrine of charity. If you say you ought to do for others that much only