“And it was so, when Elisha, the man of God, had heard that the king of Israel had rent his clothes, that he sent to the king, saying, Wherefore hast thou rent thy clothes? Let him come now to me, and he shall know that there is a prophet in Israel. So Naaman came with his horses and with his chariot, and stood at the door of the house of Elisha. And Elisha sent a messenger unto him, saying, Go and wash in Jordan seven times, and thy flesh shall come again unto thee, and thou shalt be clean. But Naaman was wroth, and went away, and said, Behold, I thought, he will surely come out to me, and stand, and call on the name of the Lord his God, and strike his hand over the place, and recover the leper. Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? may I not wash in them, and be clean? So he turned, and went away in a rage.” Now this beautiful story, though told about a great man in ancient days, may afford instruction even to young people of our time; for, like the Syrian captain, we all of us like to do things in our own way; and furthermore, we like to perform certain duties rather than others. The truth is this--that in almost all our conduct, we permit our pride, our likes and dislikes, our tastes and aversions to govern us, rather than our sense of duty. We very seldom ask ourselves “what ought I to do, and how ought I to do it?” implicitly and cheerfully acting according to the reply which conscience gives. Even those who mean to be governed by duty, are very apt to look over their list of duties, pick out those which are most agreeable, and perform them, neglecting or delaying all others--and even in performing duties, we are likely to do them in the way most agreeable to ourselves, and often not in the best way. Now all this is weakness and folly: it is real and practical disobedience; it shows that the heart is not right--that we are selfish--self-willed, self-seeking, rather than honest, sincere, faithful followers of duty. Let us suppose a case. Anna is sick, and her mother wishes her to take some medicine, and proposes that she shall take castor oil. “Oh, mother,” says Anna, “I hate castor oil.” “So does everybody,” says the mother. “But is it not better, my dear child, to take a little disagreeable physic than to continue sick, and run the risk of having a fever?” “But, mother, won’t something else do as well?” is the reply. “No, not as well,” says the mother, “the best thing for you is castor oil; and sick or well, it is always right to do the best thing we can.” “Oh, mother,” says the thoughtless child, “I can’t take castor oil; anything but castor oil--but really I cannot take that!”