finds its freedom, and when man is set free simply into the enjoyment of
his own life, simply into the realization of his own existence, he has
not attained the purposes of his freedom, he has not come to the
purposes of his life.

It is one of the signs to me of how human words are constantly becoming
perverted that it surprises us when we think of freedom as a condition
in which a man is called upon to do, and is enabled to do, the duty that
God has laid upon him. Duty has become to us such a hard word, service
has become to us a word so full of the spirit of bondage, that it
surprises us at the first moment when we are called upon to realize that
it is in itself a word of freedom. And yet we constantly are lowering
the whole thought of our being, we are bringing down the greatness and
richness of that with which we have to deal, until we recognize that God
does not call us to our fullest life simply for ourselves. The spirit of
selfishness is continually creeping in. I think it may almost be said
that there has been no selfishness in the history of man like that which
has exhibited itself in man's religious life, showing itself in the way
in which man has seized upon spiritual privileges and rejoiced in the
good things that are to come to him in the hereafter, because he had
made himself the servant of God. The whole subject of selfishness, and
the way in which it loses itself and finds itself again, is a very
interesting one, and I wish that we had time to dwell upon it. It comes
into a sort of general law which we are recognizing everywhere--the way
in which a man very often, in his pursuit of the higher form of a
condition in which he has been living, seems to lose that condition for
a little while and only to reach it a little farther on. He seems to be
abandoned by that power only that he may meet it by and by and enter
more deeply into its heart and come more completely into its service. So
it is, I think, with the self-devotion, consecration, and