To let our light shine, we must take care that we have no respect for riches:  if we have none, there is no fear of our showing any.  To treat the poor man with less attention or cordiality than the rich, is to show ourselves the servants of Mammon.  In like manner we must lay no value on the praise of men, or in any way seek it.  We must honour no man because of intellect, fame, or success.  We must not shrink, in fear of the judgment of men, from doing openly what we hold right; or at all acknowledge as a law-giver what calls itself Society, or harbour the least anxiety for its approval.

In business, the custom of the trade must be understood by both contracting parties, else it can have no place, either as law or excuse, with the disciple of Jesus.  The man to whom business is one thing and religion another, is not a disciple.  If he refuses to harmonize them by making his business religion, he has already chosen Mammon; if he thinks not to settle the question, it is settled.  The most futile of all human endeavours is, to serve God and Mammon.  The man who makes the endeavour, betrays his Master in the temple and kisses him in the garden; takes advantage of him in the shop, and offers him ‘divine service!’ on Sunday.  His very church-going is but a further service of Mammon!  But let us waste no strength in despising such men; let us rather turn the light upon ourselves:  are we not in some way denying him?  Is our light bearing witness?  Is it shining before men so that they glorify God for it?  If it does not shine, it is darkness.  In the darkness which a man takes for light, he will thrust at the heart of the Lord himself.

He who goes about his everyday duty as the work the Father has given him to do, is he who lets his light shine.  But such a man will not be content with this:  he must yet let his light shine.  Whatever makes his heart glad, he will have his neighbour share.  The body is a lantern; it must not be a dark lantern; the glowing heart must show in the shining face.  His glad thought may not be one to impart to his neighbour, but he must not quench the vibration of its gladness ere it reach him.  What shall we say of him who comes from his closet, his mountain-top, with such a veil over his face as masks his very humanity?  Is it with the Father that man has had communion, whose every movement is self-hampered, and in whose eyes dwell no smiles for the people of his house?  The man who receives the quiet attentions, the divine ministrations, of wife or son or daughter, without token of pleasure, without sign of gratitude, can hardly have been with Jesus.  Or can he have been with him, and have left him behind in his closet?  If his faith in God take from a man his cheerfulness, how shall the face of a man ever shine?  And why are they always glad before the face of the Father in heaven?  It is true that pain or inward grief may blameless banish all smiling, but even heaviness of heart has no right so to tumble the bushel over the lamp that no ray can get out to tell that love is yet burning within.  The man must at least let his dear ones know that something else than displeasure with them is the cause of his clouded countenance.