of the old, and the sunny tresses of youth. It is
covered by the soldier's helmet, or the peer's coronet, or the widow's
cap; but the crown of thorns is there. Specially is this world a
prison-house to those who strive to do their duty, and help their
fellow men. For them in all ages there have been prison bars, and
chains of persecution. Joseph resists temptation, and he is cast into
prison. But the iron of his chain made his soul as iron, and changed
the spoiled darling of his father into the wise ruler of Egypt. He was
the prisoner of the Lord, and this suffering was the way to glory.
Truly says a great poet (Milton), "who best can suffer, best can do."
If we would look on some of the greatest teachers, philosophers, and
benefactors of mankind, we must look for them in a prison-house.
Socrates, when seventy-two years old, was a prisoner, and condemned to
drink poison, because he taught higher lessons than the mob could
understand. He died discussing the immorality of the soul, and his
farewell to his judges was full of quiet dignity. "It is now time," he
said, "that we depart--I to die, you to live; but which has the better
destiny is unknown to all, except to God." Bruno was burnt at Rome,
because he exposed the false philosophy of the day. When Galileo, an
old man of seventy, taught the truth about the earth's motion, they
cast him into the dungeons of the Inquisition, and after death the Pope
refused a tomb for his body. And so for many others who dared to do
their duty and to speak the truth,--reformers in religion, in science,
in politics,--there was a prison-house, there was a chain. But the
stone walls could not confine the mind; the iron chain could not bind
the truth. Some of the most glorious works in literature were composed
in prison. The prison-house at Rome has given us some of those
Epistles of S. Paul which have gone far to convert the world; and the
finest allegory in the English language was written in Bedford gaol.
"If we suffer for righteousness' sake, happy are we." If we are the
prisoners of the Lord, let us welcome the chain of trial, of sorrow, of
self-denial, of persecution. There are prisoners who are not the
Lord's. There are some fast bound in the misery and iron of bad
habits, and habitual sin. These are lying in the condemned cell, bound
hand and foot with the devil's chain. The drunkard, the impure man,
the unbeliever, these are prisoners, but not the Lord's. I do not