not occur to us that all this must be changed; that much of it must be
reversed, that life is the finest of the Fine Arts, that it has to be
learned with lifelong patience, and that the years of our pilgrimage are
all too short to master it triumphantly.

Yet this is what Christianity is for--to teach men the Art of Life.
And its whole curriculum lies in one word--"Learn of me." Unlike most
education, this is almost purely personal; it is not to be had from
books or lectures or creeds or doctrines. It is a study from the life.
Christ never said much in mere words about the Christian graces. He
lived them, He was them. Yet we do not merely copy Him. We learn His art
by living with Him, like the old apprentices with their masters.

Now we understand it all? Christ's invitation to the weary
and heavy-laden is a call to begin life over again upon a new
principle--upon His own principle. "Watch My way of doing things," He
says. "Follow Me. Take life as I take it. Be meek and lowly and you will
find Rest."

I do not say, remember, that the Christian life to every man, or to any
man, can be a bed of roses. No educational process can be this. And
perhaps if some men knew how much was involved in the simple "learn" of
Christ, they would not enter His school with so irresponsible a heart.
For there is not only much to learn, but much to unlearn. Many men never
go to this school at all till their disposition is already half ruined
and character has taken on its fatal set. To learn arithmetic is
difficult at fifty--much more to learn Christianity. To learn simply
what it is to be meek and lowly, in the case of one who has had no
lessons in that in childhood, may cost him half of what he values most
on earth. Do we realize, for instance, that the way of teaching humility