Yet it needs but a very brief examination of society to prove the truth of Christ's contention; very little experience of life to discover that the utmost corruption of the human heart lies in lovelessness. The spiteful and rancorous temper, always seeking occasions of offense; the jealous spirit which cannot bear the spectacle of another's joy; the bitter nagging tongue, darting hither and thither like a serpent's fang full of poison, and diabolically skilled in wounding; the sour and grudging disposition, which seems most contented with itself when it has produced the utmost misery in others; the narrow mind and heart destitute of magnanimity; the cold and egoistic temperament, which demands subservience of others and receives their service without thanks, as though the acknowledgment of gratitude were weakness--these are common and typical forms of lovelessness, and who can estimate the sum of suffering they inflict? Their fruit is everywhere the same; love repressed, children estranged, the home made intolerable. It does but add to the offense of these unlovely people that in what the world calls morality they are above reproach, for they instill a hatred of morality itself by their appropriation of it. Before them love flies aghast, and the tenderest emotions of the heart fall withered. Could the annals of human misery be fairly written, it might appear that not all the lusts and crimes which are daily blazoned to the eye have wrought such wide-spread misery, have inflicted such general unhappiness, as these sins of temper, so common in their operation that they pass almost unrebuked, but so wide-spread in their effects that their havoc is discovered in every feature of our social life. THE REVELATIONS OF GRIEF _THE HOUSE OF PRIDE_ _I lived with Pride; the house was hung With tapestries of rich design. Of many houses, this among Them all was richest, and 'twas mine. But in the chambers burned no fire, Tho' all the furniture was gold, I sickened of fulfilled desire, The House of Pride was very cold._ _I lived with Knowledge; very high Her house rose on a mountain's side. I watched the stars roll through the sky, I read the scroll of Time flung wide. But in that house, austere and bare, No children played, no laughter clear Was heard, no voice of mirth was there, The House was high but very drear._ _I lived with Love; all she possest Was but a tent beside a stream. She warmed my cold hands in her breast, She wove around my sleep a dream. And One there was with face divine Who softly came, when day was spent, And turned our water into wine, And made our life a sacrament._ IX THE REVELATIONS OF GRIEF