The man with all his worldly wisdom--and he has many like himself--had not mastered one very essential and elementary truth, namely this, that nothing that we have, nothing that we are, comes from ourselves; if we possess anything, we have either inherited it or earned it. If we have inherited it, it is not we who gave life, energy, power to those who have bequeathed to us what we have. If we have earned it, it was not we who gave ourselves the active brain, the strong arm, and steady nerve that did the work. At the most we have improved, made the most of a gift. Our powers, moral and intellectual, physical and spiritual, come from the Author of our life; our life itself is a gift. "It is God who hath made us, and not we ourselves." We do not exist as of right, we exist on sufferance and as a matter of bounty. We are stewards, trustees. We hold what we hold on trust, as life-tenants, for an unseen Lord. The first thing this man ought to have done when he found that his lands were crowned with plenty was to bow down before the heavenly throne and say: "Father of all mercies, I thank Thee that Thou hast remembered Thine unworthy servant, and hast so bountifully prospered the labor of his hands." But no, he says not a word about God or to God; all he said was about himself and to himself. "My" fruits and "my" goods--is his language. And as he received them without thought or thanks to God, he also used them. It is this feature which our Lord emphasizes when he remarks: "So is he that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God." Selfishness is the basest of all sins. It is the most repulsive, degraded, and degrading form of depravity, and to our shame it must be confessed that it is the peculiar fault of man. The whole constitution of nature is a standing protest against it. No created object exists for its own sake, or to serve its own ends; but everything contributes its share to the well-being of the rest of creation. Think of the sun, the most glorious of visible objects, how from day to day, from year to year, it lavishes its light upon the earth, giving life and beauty and freshness to the vegetable and animal kingdoms. Or think of the clouds, how with unwearied constancy they drink the waters of the ocean, not to retain them in their own bosoms, but to pour them down in plentiful showers, both on barren mountains and on fertile plains; or how this earth, after supplying generation after generation, is as productive as ever, and its mines inexhaustible. Everything, in fact, seems to teach the grand doctrine that it is better to give than to receive. Man alone, Heaven's chief recipient, forms the contrast. He is selfish, and herein consists his folly. Can we think of these things, and not blush at our own selfishness?