The moral ideal seeks to influence and interpenetrate the most ordinary affairs of private life. The moral view of politics teaches us to hold the idea of country superior to the utilities of party, to exact worthiness of public servants, and to place the common good above the interests of particular classes. The moral view of commerce bids the merchant put conscience into his wares and dealings and keep steadily in sight the larger purposes of human welfare. The moral view of the professions leads their representatives to subordinate the claims of ambition and of material gain to the enduring interests of science, of justice, and to all the permanent social interests that are confided to their keeping. The purpose of man’s life is not happiness, but worthiness. Happiness may come as an accessory; we dare never make it the end. We shall find men who are in the best sense successful in the miserable tenements of the poor. An exalted type of morality is achieved by him who renounces in spirit the opportunities which he lacks, who accepts his limitations, and who, under the most trying circumstances, does not remit his efforts, no matter how insignificant may be their result, to promote the good. An exalted type of morality is displayed by aged men who, with weakened frames and energies impaired, are yet resolved to die in harness. An exalted type of morality is displayed by those who, cut off from the opportunities of culture, and from most of the pleasures and comforts of existence, yet nourish, under the ashes of disappointed hopes, the feeblest remaining spark of the spiritual life, because they believe it to be a spark from an imperishable fire, even from that undying flame which burns at the heart of things, and which is destined to grow brighter and brighter as time rolls on. There was once a teacher who had many pupils. Some of these he placed in a garden and bade them cultivate flowers, and said to them: “Fail not to bring your fairest flowers to me.” But they became so much absorbed in the delights of the garden, as to forget entirely the master who had placed them there. Others of his pupils he admitted to his library, and gave them access to many volumes rich in learning, and bade them ponder these stores of wisdom and bring the fruit of their reflections to him. But they also became wholly engrossed in their occupations. And, again, there was a third company of pupils, whom he selected to be the dispensers of the hospitalities of his household. He bade them preside over his feasts, and entertain the guests as they arrive--“Only forget not,” he said, “to bring the guests at last to me.” But these, too, became wholly interested in their pleasures, and forgot the master and his charge.