Suffocating the Soul

Not long ago, in the wall of an old castle in Italy where some repairs were being made, the workmen found a relic that told a tale of ancient barbarity and crime. Some baron of the old days put an enemy in a little niche in the wall, just large enough to hold a man, and then set the masons at work building the wall around him. Slowly the masonry crept up, as stone was laid on stone, until at last it arose and left the man standing there in his living tomb. “Ah,” you say, “such horrible forms of torture were only possible in days of darkness, when men exercised their ingenuity inventing new modes of cruelty.” Shall I tell you of something worse that is modern? A man starts out to build a structure, which he calls “Success.” Slowly, as the years pass, he walls in his soul. Duty calls, and he answers, “I cannot sacrifice my interests for you.” Pity pleads, and he says: “I really cannot afford to do anything for you.” Righteousness rings out with its prophetic demands, and he says: “It will injure the stock market if I join in these agitations.” Day by day, year by year, every lofty ideal, every summons of sympathy, every project of truth, every purpose of purity, finds him making the same old excuse: “Beware of going too far!” “Keep your eye on the main chance!” “Look out for number one!” “Be just good enough to gain your ends!” “Use men, use your city, use the world to advance those plans of material prosperity and commercial power that minister to your own self-aggrandizement!” So he builds his living tomb. So he suffocates his soul.
—Rev. George H. Ferris