"piety" would make a new-comer distrusted; the money-
lender would look more carefully to his collateral security.
At Blenheim and at Windsor you will find clipped yew-trees, cut into the shape of hearts and diamonds, nay, of lions and eagles, looking like anything but trees. So in Boston, in all New England, every where in Christendom, you will find clipped men, their piety cut into various artificial forms, looking like anything but men. The saints of the popular theology, what are they good for? For belief and routine,—for all of religion save only real piety and morality.
Persons of this stamp continually disappoint us. You expect manly work, and cannot get it done. Did you ever see little children play "Money?" They clasp their hands together and strike them gently on their knee; the elastic air compressed by this motion sounds like the jingling of small silver coin. You open the hand: there is nothing in it,—not small money enough to buy a last year's walnut or a blueberry. It was only the jingle of the money,—all of money but the money's worth. So is this unnatural form of piety; it has the jingle of godliness, and seems just as good as real piety, until you come to spend it; then it is good for nothing,—it will not pass anywhere amongst active men. A handful of it comes to nothing. Alas me! the children play at "Money," and call it sport; men grown play with a similar delusion, and call it the worship of God.
Now there is much of this false piety in the world, produced by this false notion, that there are only these two tests of piety. It leads to a great deal of mischief. Men are deceived who look to you for work ; you yourself are deceived in hoping for peace, beauty, comfort, and gladness, from such a deception.
"So, floating down a languid stream,
The lily-leaves oft lilies seem,
Eeflecting back the whitened beam
Of morning's slanting sun;—
But as I near and nearer came,
I missed the lily's fragrant flame,—
The gay deceit was done.
No snow-white lily blossomed fair,
There came no perfume on the air;
Only an idle leaf lay there,
And wantoned in the sun."
