{
  "schema": "tga.work.v1",
  "identifier": "dresden:vol-4:a-lay-sermon",
  "slug": "a-lay-sermon",
  "title": "A Lay Sermon",
  "subtitle": "Delivered before the American Secular Union.",
  "excerpt": "Addressing the American Secular Union in 1885, Ingersoll offers a sermon without supernaturalism — on the prayer in King Lear and the human duty to comfort the suffering here and now.",
  "year": 1885,
  "volume": 4,
  "category": "Address",
  "author": {
    "name": "Robert G. Ingersoll",
    "wikidata": "Q360326",
    "viaf": "44331023"
  },
  "isPartOf": {
    "title": "The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll",
    "edition": "Dresden Edition",
    "publisher": "C. P. Farrell",
    "year": 1900
  },
  "license": "https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/",
  "url": "https://thegreatagnostic.com/works/a-lay-sermon/",
  "wordCount": 5798,
  "body": "• Delivered before the Congress of the American Secular\n    Union, at Chickering Hall, New York, Nov. 14, 1885.\n\nLADIES AND GENTLEMEN: In the greatest tragedy that has ever been written\nby man—in the fourth scene of the third act—is the best prayer that\nI have ever read; and when I say \"the greatest tragedy,\" everybody\nfamiliar with Shakespeare will know that I refer to \"King Lear.\" After\nhe has been on the heath, touched with insanity, coming suddenly to the\nplace of shelter, he says:\n    \"I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.\"\n\nAnd this prayer is my text:\n    \"Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,\n    That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,\n    How shall your unhoused heads, your unfed sides,\n    Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you\n    From seasons such as these?\n    Oh, I have ta'en\n    Too little care of this.\n    Take physic, pomp;\n    Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,\n    That thou may'st shake the superflux to them,\n    And show the heavens more just.\"\n\nThat is one of the noblest prayers that ever fell from human lips. If\nnobody has too much, everybody will have enough!\n\nI propose to say a few words upon subjects that are near to us all, and\nin which every human being ought to be interested—and if he is not, it\nmay be that his wife will be, it may be that his orphans will be; and I\nwould like to see this world, at last, so that a man could die and\nnot feel that he left his wife and children a prey to the greed, the\navarice, or the cruelties of mankind. There is something wrong in a\ngovernment where they who do the most have the least. There is something\nwrong, when honesty wears a rag, and rascality a robe; when the loving,\nthe tender, eat a crust, while the infamous sit at banquets. I cannot do\nmuch, but I can at least sympathize with those who suffer. There is one\nthing that we should remember at the start, and if I can only teach you\nthat, to-night—unless you know it already—I shall consider the few\nwords I may have to say a wonderful success.\n\nI want you to remember that everybody is as he must be. I want you to\nget out of your minds the old nonsense of \"free moral agency;\" and then\nyou will have charity for the whole human race. When you know that they\nare not responsible for their dispositions, any more than for their\nheight; not responsible for their acts, any more than for their dreams;\nwhen you finally understand the philosophy that everything exists as\nthe result of an efficient cause, and that the lightest fancy that ever\nfluttered its painted wings in the horizon of hope was as necessarily\nproduced as the planet that in its orbit wheels about the sun—when\nyou understand this, I believe you will have charity for all\nmankind—including even yourself.\n\nWealth is not a crime; poverty is not a virtue—although the virtuous\nhave generally been poor. There is only one good, and that is human\nhappiness; and he only is a wise man who makes himself and others happy.\n\nI have heard all my life about self-denial. There never was anything\nmore idiotic than that. No man who does right practices self-denial. To\ndo right is the bud and blossom and fruit of wisdom. To do right should\nalways be dictated by the highest possible selfishness and the most\nperfect generosity. No man practices self-denial unless he does wrong.\nTo inflict an injury upon yourself is an act of self-denial. He who\ndenies justice to another denies it to himself. To plant seeds that will\nforever bear the fruit of joy, is not an act of self-denial. So this\nidea of doing good to others only for their sake is absurd. You want to\ndo it, not simply for their sake, but for your own; because a perfectly\ncivilized man can never be perfectly happy while there is one unhappy\nbeing in this universe.\n\nLet us take another step. The barbaric world was to be rewarded in some\nother world for acting sensibly in this. They were promised rewards in\nanother world, if they would only have self-denial enough to be virtuous\nin this. If they would forego the pleasures of larceny and murder; if\nthey would forego the thrill and bliss of meanness here, they would be\nrewarded hereafter for that self-denial. I have exactly the opposite\nidea. Do right, not to deny yourself, but because you love yourself and\nbecause you love others. Be generous, because it is better for you. Be\njust, because any other course is the suicide of the soul. Whoever does\nwrong plagues himself, and when he reaps that harvest, he will find that\nhe was not practicing self-denial when he did right.\n\nIf you want to be happy yourself, if you are truly civilized, you want\nothers to be happy. Every man ought, to the extent of his ability,\nto increase the happiness of mankind, for the reason that that will\nincrease his own. No one can be really prosperous unless those with whom\nhe lives share the sunshine and the joy.\n\nThe first thing a man wants to know and be sure of is when he has got\nenough. Most people imagine that the rich are in heaven, but, as a rule,\nit is only a gilded hell. There is not a man in the city of New York\nwith genius enough, with brains enough, to own five millions of dollars.\nWhy? The money will own him. He becomes the key to a safe. That money\nwill get him up at daylight; that money will separate him from his\nfriends; that money will fill his heart with fear; that money will rob\nhis days of sunshine and his nights of pleasant dreams. He cannot own\nit. He becomes the property of that money. And he goes right on making\nmore. What for? He does not know. It becomes a kind of insanity. No one\nis happier in a palace than in a cabin. I love to see a log house. It is\nassociated in my mind always with pure, unalloyed happiness. It is the\nonly house in the world that looks as though it had no mortgage on it.\nIt looks as if you could spend there long, tranquil autumn days; the\nair filled with serenity; no trouble, no thoughts about notes, about\ninterest—nothing of the kind; just breathing free air, watching the\nhollyhocks, listening to the birds and to the music of the spring that\ncomes like a poem from the earth.\n\nIt is an insanity to get more than you want. Imagine a man in this city,\nan intelligent man, say with two or three millions of coats, eight\nor ten millions of hats, vast warehouses full of shoes, billions\nof neckties, and imagine that man getting up at four o'clock in the\nmorning, in the rain and snow and sleet, working like a dog all day\nto get another necktie! Is not that exactly what the man of twenty or\nthirty millions, or of five millions, does to-day? Wearing his life\nout that somebody may say, \"How rich he is!\" What can he do with the\nsurplus? Nothing. Can he eat it? No. Make friends? No. Purchase flattery\nand lies? Yes. Make all his poor relations hate him? Yes. And then, what\nworry! Annoyed, nervous, tormented, until his poor little brain becomes\ninflamed, and you see in the morning paper, \"Died of apoplexy.\" This\nman finally began to worry for fear he would not have enough neckties to\nlast him through.\n\nSo we ought to teach our children that great wealth is a curse. Great\nwealth is the mother of crime. On the other hand are the abject poor.\nAnd let me ask, to-night: Is the world forever to remain as it was when\nLear made his prayer? Is it ever to remain as it is now? I hope not.\nAre there always to be millions whose lips are white with famine? Is the\nwithered palm to be always extended, imploring from the stony heart\nof respectable charity, alms? Must every man who sits down to a decent\ndinner always think of the starving? Must every one sitting by the\nfireside think of some poor mother, with a child strained to her breast,\nshivering in the storm? I hope not. Are the rich always to be divided\nfrom the poor,—not only in fact, but in feeling? And that division\nis growing more and more every day The gulf between Lazarus and Dives\nwidens year by year, only their positions are changed—Lazarus is in\nhell, and he thinks Dives is in the bosom of Abraham.\n\nAnd there is one thing that helps to widen this gulf. In nearly every\ncity of the United States you will find the fashionable part, and the\npoor part. The poor know nothing of the fashionable part, except the\noutside splendor; and as they go by the palaces, that poison plant\ncalled envy, springs and grows in their poor hearts. The rich know\nnothing of the poor, except the squalor and rags and wretchedness, and\nwhat they read in the police records, and they say, \"Thank God, we are\nnot like those people!\" Their hearts are filled with scorn and contempt,\nand the hearts of the others with envy and hatred. There must be some\nway devised for the rich and poor to get acquainted. The poor do not\nknow how many well-dressed people sympathize with them, and the rich do\nnot know how many noble hearts beat beneath the rags. If we can ever\nget the loving poor acquainted with the sympathizing rich, this question\nwill be nearly solved.\n\nIn a hundred other ways they are divided. If anything should\nbring mankind together it ought to be a common belief. In Catholic\ncountries, that does have a softening influence upon the rich and upon\nthe poor. They believe the same. So in Mohammedan countries they can\nkneel in the same mosque, and pray to the same God. But how is it with\nus? The church is not free. There is no welcome in the velvet for the\nvelveteen. Poverty does not feel at home there, and the consequence\nis, the rich and poor are kept apart, even by their religion. I am not\nsaying anything against religion. I am not on that question; but I would\nthink more of any religion, provided that even for one day in the week,\nor for one hour in the year, it allowed wealth to clasp the hand\nof poverty and to have, for one moment even, the thrill of genuine\nfriendship.\n\nIn the olden times, in barbaric life, it was a simple' thing to get a\nliving. A little hunting, a little fishing, pulling a little fruit, and\ndigging for roots—all simple; and they were nearly all on an equality,\nand comparatively there were fewer failures. Living has at last\nbecome complex. All the avenues are filled with men struggling for the\naccomplishment of the same thing:\n    \"For emulation hath a thousand sons\n    That one by one pursue: if you give way,\n    Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,\n    Like to an entered tide, they all rush by,\n    And leave you hindmost;—\n    Or, like a gallant horse, fallen in first rank,\n    Lie there for pavement to the abject rear.\"\n\nThe struggle is so hard. And just exactly as we have risen in the scale\nof being, the per cent, of failures has increased. It is so that all\nmen are not capable of getting a living. They have not cunning enough,\nintellect enough, muscle enough—they are not strong enough. They are\ntoo generous, or they are too negligent; and then some people seem to\nhave what is called \"bad luck\"—that is to say, when anything falls,\nthey are under it; when anything bad happens, it happens to them.\n\nAnd now there is another trouble. Just as life becomes complex and as\neveryone is trying to accomplish certain objects, all the ingenuity of\nthe brain is at work to get there by a shorter way, and, in consequence,\nthis has become an age of invention. Myriads of machines have been\ninvented—every one of them to save labor. If these machines helped the\nlaborer, what a blessing they would be!\n\nBut the laborer does not own the machine; the machine owns him. That is\nthe trouble. In the olden time, when I was a boy, even, you know how it\nwas in the little towns. There was a shoemaker—two of them—a tailor\nor two, a blacksmith, a wheelwright. I remember just how the shops used\nto look. I used to go to the blacksmith shop at night, get up on the\nforge, and hear them talk about turning horse-shoes. Many a night have\nI seen the sparks fly and heard the stories that were told. There was a\ngreat deal of human nature in those days! Everybody was known. If times\ngot hard, the poor little shoemakers made a living mending, half-soling,\nstraightening up the heels. The same with the blacksmith; the same with\nthe tailor. They could get credit—they did not have to pay till the\nnext January, and if they could not pay then, they took another year,\nand they were happy enough. Now one man is not a shoemaker. There is a\ngreat building—several hundred thousand dollars' worth of machinery,\nthree or four thousand people—not a single mechanic in the whole\nbuilding. One sews on straps, another greases the machines, cuts out\nsoles, waxes threads. And what is the result? When the machines stop,\nthree thousand men are out of employment. Credit goes. Then come want\nand famine, and if they happen to have a little child die, it would\ntake them years to save enough of their earnings to pay the expense\nof putting away that little sacred piece of flesh. And yet, by this\nmachinery we can produce enough to flood the world. By the inventions\nin agricultural machinery the United States can feed all the mouths upon\nthe earth. There is not a thing that man uses that can not instantly be\nover-produced to such an extent as to become almost worthless; and\nyet, with all this production, with all this power to create, there are\nmillions and millions in abject want. Granaries bursting, and famine\nlooking into the doors of the poor! Millions of everything, and yet\nmillions wanting everything and having substantially nothing!\n\nNow, there is something wrong there. We have got into that contest\nbetween machines-and men, and if extravagance does not keep pace with\ningenuity, it is going to be the most terrible question that man has\never settled. I tell you, to-night, that these things are worth thinking\nabout. Nothing that touches the future of our race, nothing that touches\nthe happiness of ourselves or our children, should be beneath our\nnotice. We should think of these things—must think of them—and we\nshould endeavor to see that justice is finally done between man and man.\n\nMy sympathies are with the poor. My sympathies are with the workingmen\nof the United States. Understand me distinctly. I am not an Anarchist.\nAnarchy is the reaction from tyranny. I am not a Socialist. I am not\na Communist. I am an Individualist. I do not believe in tyranny of\ngovernment, but I do believe in justice as between man and man.\n\nWhat is the remedy? Or, what can we think of—for do not imagine that I\nthink I know. It is an immense, an almost infinite, question, and all\nwe can do is to guess. You have heard a great deal lately upon the land\nsubject. Let me say a word or two upon that. In the first place I do not\nwant to take, and I would not take, an inch of land from any human being\nthat belonged to him. If we ever take it, we must pay for it—condemn\nit and take it—do not rob anybody. Whenever any man advocates justice,\nand robbery as the means, I suspect him.\n\nNo man should be allowed to own any land that he does not use. Everybody\nknows that—I do not care whether he has thousands or millions. I have\nowned a great deal of land, but I know just as well as I know I am\nliving that I should not be allowed to have it unless I use it. And why?\nDon't you know that if people could bottle the air, they would? Don't\nyou know that there would be an American Air-bottling Association? And\ndon't you know that they would allow thousands and millions to die for\nwant of breath, if they could not pay for air? I am not blaming anybody.\nI am just telling how it is. Now, the land belongs to the children of\nNature. Nature invites into this world every babe that is born. And\nwhat would you think of me, for instance, to-night, if I had invited\nyou here—nobody had charged you anything, but you had been invited—and\nwhen you got here you had found one man pretending to occupy a hundred\nseats, another fifty, and another seventy-five, and thereupon you were\ncompelled to stand up—what would you think of the invitation? It seems\nto me that every child of Nature is entitled to his share of the land,\nand that he should not be compelled to beg the privilege to work the\nsoil, of a babe that happened to be born before him. And why do I say\nthis? Because it is not to our interest to have a few landlords and\nmillions of tenants.\n\nThe tenement house is the enemy of modesty, the enemy of virtue, the\nenemy of patriotism.\n\nHome is where the virtues grow. I would like to see the law so that\nevery home, to a small amount, should be free not only from sale for\ndebts, but should be absolutely free from taxation, so that every man\ncould have a home. Then we will have a nation of patriots.\n\nNow, suppose that every man were to have all the land he is able to buy.\nThe Vanderbilts could buy to-day all the land that is in farms in the\nState of Ohio—every foot of it. Would it be for the best interest of\nthat State to have a few landlords and four or five millions of serfs?\nSo, I am in favor of a law finally to be carried out—not by robbery,\nbut by compensation, under the right, as the lawyers call it, of eminent\ndomain—so that no person would be allowed to own more land than he\nuses. I am not blaming these rich men for being rich. I pity the most of\nthem. I had rather be poor, with a little sympathy in my heart, than\nto be rich as all the mines of earth and not have that little flower of\npity in my breast. I do not see how a man can have hundreds of millions\nand pass every day people that have not enough to eat. I do not\nunderstand it. I might be just the same way myself. There is something\nin money that dries up the sources of affection, and the probability is,\nit is this: the moment a man gets money, so many men are trying to get\nit away from him that in a little while he regards the whole human race\nas his enemy, and he generally thinks that they could be rich, too,\nif they would only attend to business as he has. Understand, I am not\nblaming these people. There is a good deal of human nature in us all.\nYou remember the story of the man who made a speech at a Socialist\nmeeting, and closed it by saying, \"Thank God, I am no monopolist,\" but\nas he sank to his seat said, \"But I wish to the Lord I was!\" We must\nremember that these rich men are naturally produced. Do not blame them.\nBlame the system!\n\nCertain privileges have been granted to the few by the Government,\nostensibly for the benefit of the many; and whenever that grant is not\nfor the good of the many, it should be taken from the few—not by force,\nnot by robbery, but by estimating fairly the value of that property, and\npaying to them its value; because everything should be done according to\nlaw and order.\n\nWhat remedy, then, is there? First, the great weapon in this country is\nthe ballot. Each voter is a sovereign. There the poorest is the equal\nof the richest. His vote will count just as many as though the hand\nthat cast it controlled millions. The poor are in the majority in this\ncountry. If there is any law that oppresses them, it is their fault.\nThey have followed the fife and drum of some party. They have been\nmisled by others. No man should go an inch with a party—no matter if\nthat party is half the world and has in it the greatest intellects of\nthe earth—unless that party is going his way. No honest man should\never turn round to join anything. If it overtakes him, good. If he has\nto hurry up a little to get to it, good. But do not go with anything\nthat is not going your way; no matter whether they call it Republican,\nor Democrat, or Progressive Democracy—do not go with it unless it goes\nyour way.\n\nThe ballot is the power. The law should settle many of these questions\nbetween capital and labor. But I expect the greatest good to come from\ncivilization, from the growth of a sense of justice; for I tell you\nto-night, a civilized man will never want anything for less than it is\nworth—a civilized man, when he sells a thing, will never want more than\nit is worth—a really and truly civilized man, would rather be cheated\nthan to cheat. And yet, in the United States, good as we are, nearly\neverybody wants to get everything for a little less than it is worth,\nand the man that sells it to him wants to get a little more than it is\nworth? and this breeds rascality on both sides. That ought to be done\naway with. There is one step toward it that we will take: we will\nfinally say that human flesh, human labor, shall not depend entirely on\n\"supply and demand.\" That is infinitely cruel. Every man should give to\nanother according to his ability to give—and enough that he may make\nhis living and lay something by for the winter of old age.\n\nGo to England. Civilized country they call it. It is not. It never was.\nI am afraid it never will be. Go to London, the greatest city of this\nworld, where there is the most wealth—the greatest glittering piles of\ngold. And yet, one out of every six in that city dies in a hospital,\na workhouse or a prison. Is that the best that we are ever to know? Is\nthat the last word that civilization has to say? Look at the women in\nthis town sewing for a living, making cloaks for less than forty-five\ncents, that sell for $45! Right here—here, amid all the palaces,\namid the thousands of millions of property—here! Is that all that\ncivilization can do? Must a poor woman support herself, or her child, or\nher children, by that kind of labor, and with such pay—and do we call\nourselves civilized?\n\nDid you ever read that wonderful poem about the sewing woman? Let me\ntell you the last verse:\n    \"Winds that have sainted her, tell ye the story\n    Of the young life by the needle that bled,\n    Making a bridge over death's soundless waters\n    Out of a swaying, and soul-cutting thread—\n    Over it going, all the world knowing\n    That thousands have trod it, foot-bleeding, before:\n    God protect all of us! God pity all of us,\n    Should she look back from the opposite shore!\"\n\nI cannot call this civilization. There must be something nearer a fairer\ndivision in this world.\n\nYou can never get it by strikes. Never. The first strike that is a great\nsuccess will be the last, because the people who believe in law and\norder will put the strikers down. The strike is no remedy. Boycotting is\nno remedy. Brute force is no remedy. These questions have to be settled\nby reason, by candor, by intelligence, by kindness; and nothing is\npermanently settled in this world that has not for its corner-stone\njustice, and is not protected by the profound conviction of the human\nmind.\n\nThis is no country for Anarchy, no country for Communism, no country for\nthe Socialist. Why? Because the political power is equally divided. What\nother reason? Speech is free. What other? The press is untrammeled. And\nthat is all that the right should ever ask—a free press, free speech,\nand the protection of person. That is enough. That is all I ask. In a\ncountry like Russia, where every mouth is a bastile and every tongue a\nconvict, there may be some excuse. Where the noblest and the best are\ndriven to Siberia, there may be a reason for the Nihilist. In a country\nwhere no man is allowed to petition for redress, there is a reason,\nbut not here. This—say what you will against it—this is the best\nGovernment ever founded by the human race! Say what you will of parties,\nsay what you will of dishonesty, the holiest flag that ever kissed the\nair is ours!\n\nOnly a few years ago morally we were a low people—before we abolished\nslavery—but now, when there is no chain except that of custom, when\nevery man has an opportunity, this is the grandest Government of\nthe earth. There is hardly a man in the United States to-day, of any\nimportance, whose voice anybody cares to hear, who was not nursed at the\nloving breast of poverty. Look at the children of the rich. My God, what\na punishment for being rich! So, whatever happens, let every man say\nthat this Government, and this form of government, shall stand.\n\n\"But,\" say some, \"these workingmen are dangerous.\" I deny it. We are\nall in their power. They run all the cars. Our lives are in their hands\nalmost every day. They are working in all our homes. They do the labor\nof this world. We are all at their mercy, and yet they do not commit\nmore crimes, according to number, than the rich. Remember that. I am not\nafraid of them. Neither am I afraid of the monopolists, because, under\nour institutions, when they become hurtful to the general good, the\npeople will stand it just to a certain point, and then comes the\nend—not in anger, not in hate, but from a love of liberty and justice.\n\nNow, we have in this country another class. We call them \"criminals.\"\nLet me take another step:\n    \"'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,\n    But to support him after.\"\n\nRecollect what I said in the first place—that every man is as he must\nbe. Every crime is a necessary product. The seeds were all sown,\nthe land thoroughly plowed, the crop well attended to, and carefully\nharvested. Every crime is born of necessity. If you want less crime,\nyou must change the conditions. Poverty makes crime. Want, rags, crusts,\nfailure, misfortune—all these awake the wild beast in man, and finally\nhe takes, and takes contrary to law, and becomes a criminal. And what\ndo you do with him? You punish him. Why not punish a man for having the\nconsumption? The time will come when you will see that that is just\nas logical. What do you do with the criminal? You send him to the\npenitentiary. Is he made better? Worse. The first thing you do is to try\nto trample out his manhood, by putting an indignity upon him. You mark\nhim. You put him in stripes. At night you put him in darkness. His\nfeeling for revenge grows. You make a wild beast of him, and he comes\nout of that place branded in body and soul, and then you won't let him\nreform if he wants to. You put on airs above him, because he has been in\nthe penitentiary. The next time you look with scorn upon a convict, let\nme beg of you to do one thing. Maybe you are not as bad as I am, but do\none thing: think of all the crimes you have wanted to commit; think of\nall the crimes you would have committed if you had had the opportunity;\nthink of all the temptations to which you would have yielded had nobody\nbeen looking; and then put your hand on your heart and say whether you\ncan justly look with contempt even upon a convict.\n\nNone but the noblest should inflict punishment, even on the basest.\n\nSociety has no right to punish any man in revenge—no right to punish\nany man except for two objects—one, the prevention of crime; the other,\nthe reformation of the criminal. How can you reform him? Kindness is the\nsunshine in which virtue grows. Let it be understood by these men that\nthere is no revenge; let it be understood, too, that they can reform.\nOnly a little while ago I read of a case of a young man who had been in\na penitentiary and came out. He kept it a secret, and went to work for\na farmer. He got in love with the daughter, and wanted to marry her. He\nhad nobility enough to tell the truth—he told the father that he had\nbeen in the penitentiary. The father said, \"You cannot have my daughter,\nbecause it would stain her life.\" The young man said, \"Yes, it would\nstain her life, therefore I will not marry her.\" He went out. In a few\nmoments afterward they heard the report of a pistol, and he was dead.\nHe left just a little note saying: \"I am through. There is no need of\nmy living longer, when I stain with my life the one I love.\" And yet we\ncall our society civilized. There is a mistake.\n\nI want that question thought of. I want all my fellow-citizens to think\nof it. I want you to do what you can to do away with all cruelty. There\nare, of course, some cases that have to be treated with what might be\ncalled almost cruelty; but if there is the smallest seed of good in any\nhuman heart, let kindness fall upon it until it grows, and in that way\nI know, and so do you, that the world will get better and better day by\nday.\n\nLet us, above all things, get acquainted with each other. Let every man\nteach his son, teach his daughter, that labor is honorable. Let us say\nto our children: It is your business to see that you never become a\nburden on others. Your first duty is to take care of yourselves, and if\nthere is a surplus, with that surplus help your fellow-man. You owe it\nto yourself above all things not to be a burden upon others. Teach\nyour son that it is his duty not only, but his highest joy, to become a\nhome-builder, a home-owner. Teach your children that the fireside is\nthe happiest place in this world. Teach them that whoever is an idler,\nwhoever lives upon the labor of others, whether he is a pirate or a\nking, is a dishonorable person. Teach them that no civilized man wants\nanything for nothing, or for less than it is worth; that he wants to go\nthrough this world paying his way as he goes, and if he gets a little\nahead, an extra joy, it should be divided with another, if that other is\ndoing something for himself. Help others help themselves.\n\nAnd let us teach that great wealth is not great happiness; that money\nwill not purchase love; it never did and never can purchase respect; it\nnever did and never can purchase the highest happiness. I believe with\nRobert Burns:\n    \"If happiness have not her seat\n    And center in the breast,\n    We may be wise, or rich, or great,\n    But never can be blest.\"\n\nWe must teach this, and let our fellow-citizens know that we give them\nevery right that we claim for ourselves. We must discuss these questions\nand have charity—and we will have it whenever we have the philosophy\nthat all men are as they must be, and that intelligence and kindness are\nthe only levers capable of raising mankind.\n\nThen there is another thing. Let each one be true to himself. No matter\nwhat his class, no matter what his circumstances, let him tell his\nthought. Don't let his class bribe him. Don't let him talk like a\nbanker because he is a banker. Don't let him talk like the rest of the\nmerchants because he is a merchant. Let him be true to the human race\ninstead of to his little business—be true to the ideal in his heart and\nbrain, instead of to his little present and apparent selfishness—let\nhim have a larger and more intelligent selfishness—a generous\nphilosophy, that includes not only others but himself.\n\nSo far as I am concerned, I have made up my mind that no organization,\nsecular or religious, shall be my master. I have made up my mind that no\nnecessity of bread, or roof, or raiment shall ever put a padlock on my\nlips. I have made up my mind that no hope of preferment, no honor, no\nwealth, shall ever make me for one moment swerve from what I really\nbelieve, no matter whether it is to my immediate interest, as one would\nthink, or not. And while I live, I am going to do what little I can\nto help my fellow-men who have not been as fortunate as I have been. I\nshall talk on their side, I shall vote on their side, and do what little\nI can to convince men that happiness does not lie in the direction\nof great wealth, but in the direction of achievement for the good of\nthemselves and for the good of their fellow-men. I shall do what little\nI can to hasten the day when this earth shall be covered with homes, and\nwhen by countless firesides shall sit the happy and the loving families\nof the world.\n"
}