soft luxurious flow,
Shrinks when hard service must be done,
And faints at every woe."

It would be rather that the brightest and tenderest human life must have
a stern background, must carry with it the possibility of infinite
sacrifice, of bearing the cross and the crown of thorns.'[16]

(2) The second charge, the charge of hedonism, though seemingly opposed
to the first, comes into line with it in so far as it is alleged that
Christianity, while inculcating renunciation in this world, does so for
the sake of happiness in the next. It is contended that in regard to
purity of motive the Ethics of Christianity falls below the Ethics of
philosophy.[17] This statement, so often repeated, requires some
examination.

3. While it may be acknowledged that unselfishness and disinterestedness
are the criterion of moral sublimity, it must be noted at the outset that
considerable confusion of thought exists as to the meaning of motive.
Even in those moral systems in which virtue is represented as wholly
disinterested, the motive may be said to reside in the object itself.
The maxim, 'Virtue for virtue's sake,' really implies what may be called
the 'interest of achievement.' If virtue has any meaning it must be
regarded as a 'good' which is desirable. Perseverance in the pursuit of
any good implies the hope of success; in other words, of the reward which
lies in the attainment of the object desired. The reward sought may not
be foreign to the nature of virtue itself, but none the less, the idea of
reward is present, and, in a sense, is the incentive to all virtuous
endeavour. This is, indeed, implied by a no less rigorous {168} moralist
than Kant. For as he himself teaches, the question, 'What should I do?'
leads inevitably to the further question, 'What may I hope?'[18] The end
striven after cannot be a matter of indifference, if virtue is to have
moral value at all. It must be a real and desirable end--an end which
fulfils the purpose of a man as a moral being.

(1) But though Kant insists with rigorous logic that reverence for the
majesty of the moral law must be the only motive of duty, and that all
motives springing from personal desire or hope of happiness must be
severely excluded, it is curious to find that in the second part of his
_Critique of Practical Reason_ he proceeds, with a strange inconsistency,
to make room for the other idea, viz., that virtue is not without its
reward, and is indeed united