“With his Bible Class and Singing Choir, and Sunday religion, and
     heartless indifference to the Salvation or damnation of the
     perishing crowds at his door.  There he is, dead in formality.

     “Here lies Surly Badblood

     “Packed full of suspicions and utter disregards for the happiness
     and feelings of his wife, family, neighbours, or friends.  There he
     is, dead in bad tempers.

     “Here lies Dives Enjoy-Yourself

     “Look at his marble tomb, and golden coffin, and embroidered
     shroud, and ermine robes.  This is a man whose every earthly want is
     supplied—­Carriages, music, friends.  There he is, dead in luxury.

     “Here lies Dick Never-Fear

“His mouth is filled with laughter, and his heart with contempt when you speak to him about his soul.  He has no anxiety, not he.  He’ll come off all right, never fear.  Is not God merciful?  And did not Christ die?  And did not his mother pray?  Don’t be alarmed, God won’t hurt him.  There he is, dead in presumption,

     “Here lies Judas Renegade

“His grave has a desolate look.  The thorns and thistles grow over it.  The occupant has money and worldly friends, and many other things, but altogether he gets no satisfaction out of them; he is uneasy all the time.  There he is, dead in apostacy.

“There are any number of other graves.  It is interesting, although painful, to wander amongst them.  All, or nearly all, their occupants are held down by a heavy weight of ignorance, a sense of utter helplessness.  And all are bound hand and foot with chains of lust, or passion, or procrastination, of their own forging.  In the midst of these graves you live, and move, and have your being.

“What is your duty here?  Oh, that you realised your true business in this region of death!  Having eyes, Oh! that you could see.  Having ears, Oh! that you could hear.  Having hearts, Oh! that you could feel.  What are you going to do with this graveyard?  Walk about it in heartless unconcern, or with no higher feeling than gratitude for having been made alive yourselves?  Or will you content yourselves with strolling through it, taxing its poor occupants for your living while leaving them quietly in their tombs as hopeless as you found them?  Heaven forbid!  Well, then, what do you propose?  What will you do?

“Look after their bodies, and feed and nourish them, making the graveyard as comfortable a resting-place as you can?  That is good, so far as it goes, but that is not very far.  Will that content you?  Decorate their graves with flowers and evergreens, and wreaths of pleasant things?  Will that content you?  Amuse them with your music, or the singing of your songs, or the letting off of your oratorical fireworks among their rotting corpses?  Will