For who is so worthy of
our pity, as he who knows not that he is pitiable?--who takes ignorance,
dirt, vice, passion, and the wretchedness which vice and passion bring,
as all in the day's work, as he takes the rain and hail, the frost and
snow,--as unavoidable necessities of mortal life, for which the only
temporary alleviation is--drink?
If the refined and pure-minded lady does not pity such beings as that, I
know not of what her refinement is made. If the religious lady will not
bestir herself, and make sacrifices to teach such people that that is not
what God meant them to be--to stir up in them a noble self-discontent, a
noble self-abhorrence, which may be the beginning of repentance and
amendment of life--I know not of what her religion is made.
One word more--I know that such thoughts as I have put before you to-day
are painful. I know that we all--I as much as anyone in this church--are
tempted to put them by, and say, I will think of things beautiful, not of
things ugly; of art, poetry, science--all that is orderly, graceful,
ennobling; and not of dirt, ignorance, vice, misery, all that is
disorderly, degrading.
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