able to hold our ground, unless we did so-and-so and so-and-so.'

But not only individuals or Churches are guilty in this matter. The
nation takes a leaf out of Amaziah's book, and puts aside many plain
duties, for no better reason than that it would cost too much to do
them. 'What is the use of talking about suppressing the liquor traffic
or housing the poor? Think of the cost.' The 'hundred talents' block
the way and bribe the national conscience. For instance, the opium
traffic; how is it defended? Some attempt is made to prove either that
we did not force it upon China, or that the talk about the evils of
opium is missionary fanaticism, but the sheet-anchor is: 'How are we
ever to raise the Indian revenue if we give up the traffic?' That is
exactly Amaziah over again, come from the dead, and resurrected in a
very ugly shape.

So national policy and Church action, and--what is of far more
importance to you and me than either the one or the other,--our own
personal relation to Jesus Christ and discipleship to Him, have been
hampered, and are being hampered, just by that persistent and unworthy
attitude of looking at the consequences of doing plain duties, and
permitting ourselves to be frightened from the duties because the
consequences are unwelcome to us.

Prudence is all right, but when prudence takes command and presumes to
guide conscience, then it is all wrong. In some courts of law and in
certain cases, the judge has an assessor sitting beside him, an expert
about some of the questions that are involved. Conscience is the
judge, prudence the assessor. But if the assessor ventures up on the
judgment-seat, and begins to give the decisions which it is not his
business to give--for _his_ only business is to give advice--then