There is, moreover, a second ground on which I would rest my criticism. The art of the educator sometimes consists in _deliberately warding off_ the natural penalties, though the child knows what they are and perhaps expects to pay them. So far is the method of Spencer from bearing the test of application that the very opposite of what he recommends is right in some of the most important instances. Take the case of lying, for instance. The natural penalty for telling a falsehood is not to be believed the next time, but the real secret of moral redemption consists in not inflicting this penalty. We emphasize our belief in the offender despite the fact that he has told a falsehood, we show that we expect him never to tell a falsehood again, we seek to drive the spirit of untruthfulness out of him--by believing in him we strengthen him to overcome temptation. And so in many other instances we rescue, we redeem, by not inflicting the natural penalty. The task of moral education is laid upon us. It is not a task that can be learned by reading a few scattered essays; it is often a heavy burden and involves a constant responsibility. I know it is not right _always_ to make parents responsible for the faults which appear in their children. I am well aware that the worst fruit sometimes comes from the best stock, and that black sheep are sometimes to be found in the best families. But I cannot help thinking that if these black sheep were taken charge of in the right way in early childhood, the results might turn out differently from what they often do. The picture of Jesus on which the early church loved to dwell is the picture of the good shepherd who follows after the lamb that has strayed from the fold, and, carrying it tenderly in his arms, brings it back. I think if parents were more faithful shepherds, and cared for their wayward children with deeper solicitude and tenderness, they might often succeed in winning them back. But even apart from these exceptional cases the task of training children morally is one of immense gravity and difficulty. And how are most parents prepared for the discharge of this task? Why, they are not at all prepared. They rely merely upon impulse, and upon traditions which often are altogether wrong and harmful. They do as they have seen other fathers and mothers do, and thus the same mistakes are perpetuated from generation to generation. Such parents, if they were asked to repair a clock, would say, "No, we must first learn about the mechanism of a clock before we undertake to repair it." But the delicate and complex mechanism of a child's soul they undertake to repair without any adequate knowledge of the springs by which it is moved, or of the system of adjustments by which it is enabled to perform its highest work. They thrust their crude hands into the mechanism and often damage or break it altogether.