spiritual at all. His spiritual sense seems atrophied and he can do
nothing but estimate the bushels of fruit. He feels no respect for the
beauty before him and it is evident that somewhere along the line his
spiritual education was neglected. He excites our sympathy and our hope
that his children may not share his fate.

In the way of illustrating this quality of respect, we reach the climax in
the thirty-eighth chapter of the Book of Job and following. The dramatic
element of literature here reaches its zenith. God is the speaker, the
stricken, outcast Job is the sole auditor, and the stage is a whirlwind.
It is related of the late Professor Hodge that, on one occasion when he
was about to perform an experiment in his laboratory, he said to some
students who stood near, "Gentlemen, please remove your hats; I am about
to ask God a question." But here in this chapter we have a still more
sublime situation, for God is here asking questions of the man. And these
questions dig deep into the life of the man and show him how puny and
impotent is the finite in the presence of the Infinite. In this presence
there is neither pomp, nor parade, nor vaunting, nor self-aggrandizement,
nor arrogance. Even the printed page cannot but induce respect,
devoutness, and profound reverence, for it tells of nature's wonders--the
snow-crystals, the rain, the dewdrop, the light, the cloud, the
lightning--and reveals to the bewildered sight some apprehension of the
Author of them all.

The reader must, by now, have divined the conclusion of the whole matter.
Without respect there can be no reverence; and, without reverence, there
can be neither education nor civilization that is worth while. Some one
has defined reverence as "that exquisite constraint which leads a man to
hate all that is unsuitable and sordid and exaggerated and to love all
that is excellent and temperate and beautiful." This definition is both