But this is by no means the same as saying that everything ancient is therefore beautiful and true, or that all the old ways are good.  The very point of the text is that we must discriminate among antiquities,—­a thing as necessary in old chairs and old books as in old ways.

Evil is almost, if not quite, as ancient as good.  Folly and wisdom, among men at least, are twins, and we can not distinguish between them by the grey hairs.  Adam’s way was old enough; and so was the way of Cain, and of Noah’s vile son, and of Lot’s lewd daughters, and of Balaam, and of Jezebel, and of Manasseh.  Judas Iscariot was as old as St. John.  Ananias and Sapphira were of the same age with St. Peter and St. Paul.

What we are to ask for is not simply the old way, but that one among the old ways which has been tested and tried and proved to be the good way.  The Spirit of Wisdom tells us that we are not to work this way out by logarithms, or evolve it from our own inner consciousness, but to learn what it is by looking at the lives of other men and marking the lessons which they teach us.  Experience has been compared to the stern-light of a ship which shines only on the road that has been traversed.  But the stern-light of a ship that sails before you is a head-light to you.

You do not need to try everything for yourself in order to understand what it means.  The writer of Ecclesiastes tells us that he gave his heart to know madness and folly; and that it was all vanity and vexation of spirit.  It will be a wise economy for us to accept his lesson without paying his tuition-fee over again.

It is perfectly safe for a man to take it as a fact that fire burns, without putting his hand into the flame.  He does not need to try perilous experiments with his own soul in order to make sure that lust defiles, that avarice hardens, that frivolity empties, that selfishness cankers the heart.  He may understand the end of the way of sensuality by looking at any old pleasure-seeker,

  “Gray, and gap-toothed, and lean as death,”

mumbling the dainties that he can no longer enjoy, and glowering with bleared eyes at the indulgences which now mock him even while they tempt him.  The goal of the path of covetousness may be discerned in the face of any old money-worshipper; keeping guard over his piles of wealth, like a surly watch-dog; or, if perchance he has failed, haunting the places where fortune has deceived him, like an unquiet ghost.

Inquire and learn; consider and discern.  There need be no doubt about the direction of life’s various ways.

Which are the nations that have been most peaceful and noble and truly prosperous?  Those that have followed pride and luxury and idolatry?  Or those that have cherished sobriety and justice, and acknowledged the Divine law of righteousness?

Which are the families that have been most serene and pure and truly fortunate?  Those in which there has been no discipline, no restraint, no common faith, no mutual love?  Or those in which sincere religion has swayed life to its stern and gracious laws, those in which parents and children have walked together to the House of God, and knelt together at His altar, and rejoiced together in His service?