Here, too, in this many-bodied and many-souled community, as well as in the individual man's life, function determines structure. But function has there become self-conscious and world-conscious, aware of the many bodies and the many souls, aware of their needs and dangers, aware of their giving and their gaining. Men have societies within the community such as on the whole their conscious desires and purposes, their attitude towards their fellows, their sense of responsibility and obligations, their aims and ideals, demand. We have indeed the societies we deserve. We may well ask ourselves why we deserve to have them as they are; we may well say to ourselves—'"Prisoner, tell me, who was it that wrought this unbreakable chain?"' And the answer is clear, convicting not only of error but of what some of us have learnt to know as actual sin, sin against the call and promise of life. '"It was I," said the prisoner ... "when at last the work was done and the links were complete and unbreakable, I found that it held me in its grip."' * * * * * There are other societies besides those of men. Some are far more completely organized. The bees and the ants have carried social organization to a state of harmony and of adjustment to ends which is as strongly marked in its contrast with any that human societies present, as is the triumphant surgery of the solitary wasp by contrast with the blunders of an untrained man. In 'the civility of these little citizens' society is carried to a completeness corresponding with that of the life of the creatures who are its parts. In an ant-hill or a hive we have before us, some may say, a model of what a society should be. Perfect co-operation, complete subordination of individual to social ends, the highest possible working efficiency of each and all—it sounds well, and no one can deny that for bees and ants it works well. Would it work equally well for men?