But how are we so to abound in pity as to be able, at all times, to fill our message with its gracious influence, for pity is not always easy, in which fact is one element of its high nobility? The sins of men, their vices with their results in life and character, often make it hard to pity them. A horrible thing is sin, and so horrible its effects that it seems, at times, almost impossible to look upon those in whom these effects are evident with any emotions save those of loathing and disgust. It was no very natural thing for Jonah to look with any sort of tenderness on that great, debauched, besotted Nineveh, reeking in its vileness, foul with the accumulated moral filth of many generations. Out of a man's own righteousness, too, his jealousy for God and his reverence for goodness, there may grow a certain hardness and, from very loyalty to God, it may not be easy to look with compassionate eyes upon the transgressor. We cannot but remember that every blessed purpose of the Kingdom is delayed by sin. By this black impediment every golden dream of devout saints, of moral and spiritual reformers is held back from happy fulfilment. It is difficult, indeed, to feel pitiful when the heart for Christ's sake is longing to behold the glories He died to bring to pass and sees those glories thus wantonly postponed. Yes, the note of pity is often hard to strike. The more we think of all that is involved the more emphasis we throw into the question--_how has it to be done_? The truth is that pity for such a service needs to be earnestly and constantly cultivated. It only follows as the result of spiritual processes in the preacher's own soul. It is not the mere outflowing of a natural kindliness of disposition, of inborn good nature. It is more than mere sloppy sentimentality. _That_ kind of pity, if you may call it by such a name, never tells the truth excepting when it is pleasant, never preaches a sermon of rebuke, never reasons concerning "judgment to come." There is no such word as Hell in its vocabulary; there is no accusation in its programme. The pity we mean blazes up into moral anger, smites and wounds, and compassionates the while. This pity requires cultivation. Quoting an old phrase, "it never grew in Nature's garden." An understanding of men is absolutely essential to attainment herein. Some one has said that "if we knew all we would pity all." God _does_ know all and _does_ pity all. The compassion of Jesus was aided by His knowledge of the multitude; so must ours be. It is a terrible story--this story of transgression--but those who know it best water it with tears. Nothing is served by closing our eyes to facts, though the temptation is great to exercise the mistaken charity of declining to know. Is there no danger of a cowardly refusal of vision, of making the fellowship of saints a hiding place whither we can escape from the sights and shames of the world? Are we quite