The Simple Life is then Woolman's plea, and the necessity for social sacrifice the burden of his teaching. This plea he presents with no vagueness or Wagnerian sentimentality, but with an alarming precision of outline. No man ever described better the insensible growth of worldly convention into that custom which "lies upon us with a weight heavy as frost and deep almost as life." Noting the gradual lapse of the Friends from their earlier standards of unworldliness, he says: "These things, though done in calmness without any show of disorder, do yet deprave the mind in like manner and with as great certainty as prevailing cold congeals water." And again, "Though the change from day to night is by a motion so gradual as scarcely to be perceived, yet when night is come we behold it very different from the day; and thus as people become wise in their own eyes and prudent in their own sight, customs rise up from the spirit of this world and spread, by little and little, till a departure from the simplicity that is in Christ becomes as distinguishable as light from darkness to such who are crucified to the world." So the generations as they pass slip further and further from "pure wisdom," for "the customs of their parents, and their neighbours, working upon their minds, and they from thence conceiving ideas of things and modes of conduct, the entrance into their hearts becomes in a great measure shut up against the gentle movings of Uncreated Purity." Woolman is too wise to feel resentment against those so hardened; rather he says, "Compassion hath filled my heart toward my fellow-creatures involved in customs, grown up in the wisdom of this world, which is foolishness with God." To his own spirit, we may well apply the description in the little essay on "Merchandising," of the growing sensitiveness among the faithful friends of Christ, who "inwardly breathe that His Kingdom may come on earth" and "learn to be very attentive to the means He may appoint for promoting pure righteousness." His ideal is "that state in which Christ is the Light of our life," so that "our labours stand in the true harmony of society." "In this state," he writes, "a care is felt for a reformation in general, that our own posterity, with the rest of mankind in succeeding ages, may not be entangled by oppressive customs, transmitted to them through our hands." When we consider the deepening desire in our own day to lessen for the next generation that intolerable burden of social compunction which rests upon ourselves, may we perhaps dare to hope that this blessed "state," in which John Woolman himself constantly abode, is becoming common?