Now it is this strange complexity of our being, compelling us to view
ourselves in both a separate and a conjunct way, which creates all the
difficulty in the problem of self-sacrifice. But I dare say that when
I have thus shown the reality and worth of the conjunct self, it will
be felt that self-sacrifice is altogether illusory; for while it seems
to produce loss, it is in fact the avoidance of what entails
littleness. So says Emerson:--

"Let love repine and reason chafe,
There came a voice without reply:
'T is man's perdition to be safe
When for the truth he ought to die."

Have we not, then, by explaining the rationality of self-sacrifice,
explained away the whole matter and practically identified it with
self-culture? There is plausibility in this view--and it has often
been maintained--but not complete truth. For evidently the emotions
excited by culture and sacrifice are directly antagonistic. Toward a
man pursuing the aim of culture we experience a feeling of approval,
not unmixed with suspicion, but we give him none of that reverent
adoration which is the proper response to sacrifice. And if the
feelings of the beholder are contrasted, so also are the psychological
processes of the performer. The man of culture starts with a sense of
defect which he seeks to supplement; the sacrificer, with a sense of
fullness which he seeks to empty. He who turns to self-culture says,
"I have progressed thus far. I have gained thus much of what I would
acquire. But still I am poor. I need more. Let me gather as abundantly
as possible on every side." But the thought of him who turns to self-
sacrifice is, "I have been gaining, but I only gained to give. Here is
my opportunity. Let me pour out as largely as I may." He contemplates