But are we nothing more? God forbid. St. Paul tells us that we are something more--and our own conscience and reason tell us that we are something more. We know that to be a man, we must be something more than an animal--a mere brute--for when we call any one a brute, what do we mean? That he has lost his humanity, his sense of justice, mercy, and decency, and given himself up to his flesh--his animal nature, till the _man_ in him is dead, and only the _brute_ remains. Mind, I do not say that we are right in calling any human being a brute, for no one, I believe, is sunk so low, but there is some spark of humanity, some spark of what St. Paul calls "the spirit," left in him, which may be fanned into a flame and conquer, and raise and save the man at last--unless he be a mere idiot--or that most unhappy and brutal of all beings, a confirmed drunkard. But our giving way to the same selfish shameless passions, which we see in the lower animals, is letting the "brute" in us conquer, is giving way to the works of the flesh. The shameless and profligate person gives way to the "brute" within him--the man who beats his wife--or ill-treats his children--or in any wise tyrannises over those who are weaker than himself, he too gives way to the "brute" within him. He who grudges, envies, tries to aggrandise himself at his neighbour's expense--he too gives way to the "brute" within him, and puts on the likeness of the dog which snatches and snarls over his bone. He who spends his life in cunning plots and mean tricks, stealthy, crafty, silent, false, he gives way to the "brute" in him, just as much as the fox or ferret. And those, let me say, who without giving way to those grosser vices, let their minds be swallowed up with vanity, love of admiration, always longing to be seen and looked at, and wondering what folks will say of them, they too give way to the flesh, and lower themselves to the likeness of animals. As vain as a peacock, says the old proverb. And shame it is to any human being so far to forget his true humanity, as to have that said of him. And what shall we say of them who like the swine live only for eating and drinking, and enjoyment? Or what of those who like the butterflies spend all their time in frivolous amusement, fluttering in the sunshine, silly and helpless, without a sense of duty or usefulness, without forethought for the coming frosts of winter, against which their gay feathers would be no protection? Do not all these in some way or other give way to the animal within them, and live after the flesh? And do they not, all of them, of the flesh, reap corruption, and fulfil St. Paul's words, "If ye live after the flesh ye shall die?"