forget, and would he have the working man forget, who it was who
said--who only has the right to say: "Come unto Me, all ye who
are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest"? Ah no,
sweet soul. I know your words are true. I know that what we all
want is inward rest; rest of heart and brain; the calm, strong,
self-contained, self-denying character; which needs no stimulants,
for it has no fits of depression; which needs no narcotics, for it
has no fits of excitement; which needs no ascetic restraints, for
it is strong enough to use God's gifts without abusing them; the
character, in a word, which is truly temperate, not in drink or
food merely, but in all desires, thoughts, and actions; freed from
the wild lusts and ambitions to which that old Adam yielded, and,
seeking for light and life by means forbidden, found thereby
disease and death. Yes, I know that; and know, too, that that
rest is found only where you have already found it.

And yet, in such a world as this, governed by a Being who has made
sunshine, and flowers, and green grass, and the song of birds, and
happy human smiles, and who would educate by them--if we would let
Him--His human children from the cradle to the grave; in such a
world as this, will you grudge any particle of that education,
even any harmless substitute for it, to those spirits in prison
whose surroundings too often tempt them, from the cradle to the
grave, to fancy that the world is composed of bricks and iron, and
governed by inspectors and policemen? Preach to those spirits in
prison, as you know far better than we parsons how to preach; but
let them have besides some glimpses of the splendid fact, that
outside their prison-house is a world which God, not man, has
made; wherein grows everywhere that tree of knowledge, which is
likewise the tree of life; and that they have a right to some