Christian living is righteous living, being right with God and right with man, in all the dealings of daily life. It is not, like vaccination, completed in one short operation, but, like breathing, an activity that includes every second of one’s earthly existence. It is not moving into a furnished apartment which you can secure by making certain payments, but the building of the palace of Character. Stone by stone, the great structure is erected, its foundation resting upon the solid rock, its walls built with God’s plumb line, its turrets and battlements lifted high to receive the blessings of the sky. It is not built in a day, but requires the unceasing toil of all our days, else it will crumble into hopeless ruin. Character is not firmly established this side the grave. There are no character insurance societies. Right living on the part of youth may soon give one a reputation of worth, but after many years of faithful living have resulted in a palace, admired of men, one misdeed may become a conflagration that will reduce it to ashes; one single misspent day may cause the strongest palace to crumble and decay. The ruins of Kenilworth are beautiful because covered with English ivy; for the ruined walls of Character there is no ivy of sympathy to beautify, but the bleak and barren wreckage stands in ghastly hideousness to proclaim to all the world the story of the misspent day. Both youth and age alike must guard the palace of Character against decay. There is the palace of Benevolence that needs guarding. In childhood we learned the difference between the cold hovel of Selfishness and the great palace of Benevolence, with its windows ablaze with light to guide our footsteps, and its hearthstone aglow with welcoming warmth. How we feared and shunned the selfish soul, not for the lack of gifts, but because, with the clear vision of childhood, we beheld the deformity of his crabbed soul! How we loved the dweller of the palace, not for his gifts, but for the beauty of his smile, the soft light of friendship in his eyes, the joy-creating atmosphere in which he moved. Then and there we decided to mold our lives after the plans of that good man, and be benevolent individuals; not spendthrifts, but possessed of rich, red blood, and sympathetic hearts ever open to the beauties and needs of life. But we soon learn that the palace of Benevolence cannot be built with one deed of benevolence, no matter how large and generous it may be. The gift of some great public institution, however worthy and serviceable to the people, is not enough to mark a man as one who dwells in the palace of Benevolence. That coveted abode is built, not by gift or gifts, but by the generous spirit with which we daily and hourly meet the world. Benevolence is not a gift, nor series of gifts, but the wholesome, generous spirit which we manifest toward men. With such a spirit one builds a beautiful palace in which to dwell, but one that is very easily marred and destroyed.