THESE times touch monied Worldlings with dismay:
Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air
With words of apprehension and despair:
While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray,
Men unto whom sufficient for the day,
And minds not stinted or untilled are given,
Sound, healthy Children of the God of Heaven,
Are cheerful as the rising Sun in May.
What do we gather hence but firmer faith
That every gift of noble origin
Is breathed upon by Hope’s perpetual breath;
That virtue, and the faculties within,
Are vital, and that riches are akin
To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death?
I CANNOT call riches better than the baggage of virtue; the Roman word is better, itupedi-menta; for as the baggage is to an army, so is riches to virtue; it cannot be spared nor left behind, but it hindereth the march; yea, and the care of it sometimes loseth or disturbeth the victory; of great riches there is no real use, except it be in the distribution; the rest is but conceit.
IT is not the fact that a man has riches which keeps him from the Kingdom of Heaven, but the fact that riches have him.