What is the hard way over which the feet go that carry the burdens of mankind, that bear the load of the world?
But, though it is the easy way for a while, there comes a time when it is no longer the easy way. When in his little room above the gate the old king bowed his gray head in his hands and with breaking heart sobbed out: "O my son Absalom! my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!"—it was no longer the easy way. When Adonijah rose up in insurrection against his old father as he lay on his dying bed, gathering his little company of sycophants around him and setting himself up in his father's place, then it was no longer the easy way that the old man had pursued.
And to-day still, fathers and mothers who for a little while thought the easy way was never to ask their children why they had done so, but to let them go their own way with no imposition of outward authority or control, find after a while that the easy way has turned bitterly hard. I have a friend, a leading merchant in one of our large cities. Some time ago another friend was visiting him, and as they walked down the street together, suddenly a large car whizzed around the corner, full of young people, among them the merchant's son. This was the middle of the forenoon and the boy was supposed to be at work
