perity, shamefully forget the starving multitudes below. Selfishly they take their ease, wallowing in luxury, with never a thought of their sacred obligations. Christ stands between them and the throng, and begs with outstretched hands for bread that His poor may eat. What answer does He get? Do they with childlike faith place at His feet their all? Do they remember that their riches should constitute them Christ's disciples? Do they return the wealth He gave them that He may bless and break and distribute to the needy? Alas! alas! They turn their backs on Him and them. " Send them away," they say to Him, " this horrid rabble, bid them begone and get a meal as best they may. It is an outrage to bring them clamoring here, disturbing our aristocratic quiet, marring the beauty of the landscape, trampling our parks and lawns. What! feed a throng like that! Consider the expenses of my city palace and my country villa, my crowded stables and my kennel of dogs; see the outlay for my wine-cellar, our dinners, our theatre-parties, our trips abroad, our jewels and finery — why, I have not a cent to spare nor a crumb for your ragged mob." Thus once on a time spoke Dives to the starving Lazarus, and Dives in consequence was buried in hell. So acted Judas when he clutched the purse and tied the strings and swore his Master should not have two hundred pennies wherewith to purchase bread, — and Judas, you know, was a thief, and presently betrayed his Master for money and finally hanged himself. So, too, the uncharitable rich are thieves who appropriate the
