others use a whole orchestra in their religious service. Some there be
who regard pictures as implements of idolatry; while the Hook-and-Eye
Baptists look upon buttons as immoral.

Strange evolutions are often witnessed within the life of one
individual. For instance, Leo Tolstoy, a great and good man, at one time
a sensualist, has now turned ascetic; a common evolution in the lives of
the saints. But excellent as this man is, there is yet a grave
imperfection in his cosmos which to a degree vitiates the truth he
desires to teach: he leaves the element of beauty out of his formula.
Not caring for harmony as set forth in color, form and sweet sounds, he
is quite willing to deny all others these things which minister to
their well-being. There is in most souls a hunger for beauty, just as
there is physical hunger. Beauty speaks to their spirits through the
senses; but Tolstoy would have your house barren to the verge of
hardship. My veneration for Count Tolstoy is profound, yet I mention him
here to show the grave danger that lies in allowing any man, even one of
the wisest of men, to dictate to us what is best. We ourselves are the
better judges. Most of the frightful cruelties inflicted on men during
the past have arisen simply out of a difference of opinion that arose
through a difference in temperament. The question is as alive to-day as
it was two thousand years ago--what expression is best? That is, what
shall we do to be saved? And concrete absurdity consists in saying that
we must all do the same thing. Whether the race will ever grow to a
point where men will be willing to leave the matter of life-expression
to the individual is a question; but the millennium will never arrive
until men cease trying to compel all other men to live after
one pattern.

Most people are anxious to do what is best for themselves and least