Yet this limited and unlimited self; transitory, perishable, and finite on the one side; everlasting, imperishable, and infinite on the other, are bound together in the same person. The fall of the one is accompanied by the descent of the other, and the rise of the one is accompanied by the ascent of the other. Their union involves perpetual conflict, and there waits on the turn of the battle, the depression of remorse, or the exultation of triumph. On the individual side of himself, man would take up with the present, the immediate, with that which allures the sense, and, with unholy incense, regales the imagination. On the social side of himself, he would despise the immediate, and give the casting vote in favor of the unbiased, immeasurable good. In such a being as man, conflict were inevitable. With a horizon measured by the edge of the plain where he stands on the one side, and a horizon melting into the infinite star depths on the other, it were but to be expected that a contest would arise between the larger and the lesser outlook. On the one side, he would possess the field, concentrate his attention upon its grasses and its fruits, and lose himself in its products. On the other, he would go forth to see where the stars are, to consider the sources of their light, and to travel with them along their silent paths. With a view measured by the hour that shuts him round on the one side, and with a view measured by the organic pulsations of the world on the other; the question would be, whether to give himself to the immediate pleasures of the hour; or to elongate the pendulum of his timepiece till it should embrace the ages, and regulate his life by an eternal measure. With appetites on one side, clamoring for the things in sight, and with conscience on the other, calling for harmony with things high and remote; the question would be, whether to give the consent of the will to the demand of the appetites, or to the appeal of the conscience. III. Knowing the side of himself of which a man takes counsel—the individual, or the social—you are prepared to fix his grade in the scale of being. The difference between Benedict Arnold and George Washington was just this: in the case of the one the individual side was dominant; in the case of the other the social side held sway. This is the difference between the miser, despised of all, and the philanthropist, honored of all. This is the difference between the debauche and the saint, between the man who lives for his God and his race, and the man who pours himself out on his lust and his passion. If the promptings of the individual side of man’s nature are to be distrusted and watched, while liberal and unstinted recognition is to be given to the social side, it is well to inquire into the meaning and office of this larger fact of his life.