ay that God
has worked it out!

It is one of His usual paradoxes.

The thing in a man that makes it possible for him to get things more
than other people can get them is his margin of unselfishness.

He gets things by seeing with the thing that he wants all that lies
around it. With equal clearness he is seeing all the time the people and
the things that are in the way of what he wants; how the people look or
try to look, how they feel or try to make him think they feel, what they
believe and do not believe or can be made to believe; he sees what he
wants in a vast setting of what he cannot get with people, and of what
he can--in a huge moving picture of the interests of others.

The man who, in fulfilling and making the most of himself, can get
outside of himself into his class, who, in being a good class-man, can
overflow into being a man of the world, is the man who gets what he
wants.

I am hopeful about Labour and Capital to-day because in the industrial
world, as at present constituted in our cooeperative age, the men who can
get what they want, who get results out of other people, are the men who
have the largest, most sensitive outfits for wanting things for other
people.

If there is one thing rather than another that fills one with courage
for the outlook of labouring men to-day it is the colossal failure Ben
Tillett makes in leading them in prayer.

Even the dockers, perhaps the most casually employed, the most spent and
desperate class of Labour of all, only prayed Ben Tillet's prayer a
minute and they were sorry the day after.

And it was Ben Tillett's prayer in the end that lost them their cause--a
prayer that filled all England on the next day with the rage of
Labour--that a man like Ben Tillett, with such a mean, scared, narrow
little prayer, should dare to represent Labour.

In the same way, after the shooting in the Lawrence strike, when all
those men (Syndicalists) had streamed through the streets, showing off
before everybody their fine, brave-looking thoughtless, superficial,
guillotine feelings and their furious little banner, "No God and no
Master"--it did one good, only a day or so later, to see a vast crowd of
Lawrence workers, thirty thousand strong, tramping through the streets,
singing, with bands of music, and with banners, "In God we trust" and
"One is our Master, even Christ"--thousands of men who had never been
inside a church, thousands of men who could never have looked up a