Because all these are functionings of Love. And to democracy, love is not a side-show; it is the big tent.

Love is not something you may put on, and ought to put on, but need not if you do not choose; love is inherent in the very nature of the state.

Justice--that is God's love. Charity and almsgiving—that is man's. Under a perfect a perfect democracy all

democracy all endowed Schools, Hospitals, and other Benevolent Foundations will disappear. For at bottom they all are some sort of unjust Privilege trying to square itself with Conscience, as the robber barons of old built chapels and monasteries.

Democracy will manage its own schools, hospitals and the like, not from benevolence, but by intelligent self-interest, because they are needed by the whole people, and will support them by general taxation.

For democracy goes back to God.
The heart of the universe is democratic.

It is the purpose of the Ruler of this Universe that every born soul shall have its chance, "even unto this last”; that the State shall play fair to every one of "the least of these, my brethren"; that men shall not cry "Peace, peace, when there is no peace," nor "heal the hurt of the daughter of my people slightly." God is not on the side of the strongest battal

His name.

ions. Go on; organize your irresistible armies and your proud fleets, your Capitalistic combinations and your Proletariat tyrannies. "He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh; the Lord shall hold them in derision.”

For you don't understand the kind of a God He is. He is not a celestial satrap, a proud Tsar with His favorites, a Kaiser with an iron ambition. Fools! He is "Servant of All!" That is

He is the Giver of that mysterious law: "The meek shall inherit the earth.” He is the Omnipotent Shepherd who "shall gather the lambs in His bosom and tenderly lead them that are with young

Democracy is no less than the Will of God operative in the State through natural laws. No man devised, no man can undo it. For the stars in their courses propel it.

You cannot make it by craft, any more than you can legislate the precession of the equinoxes. Storming soldiery cannot batter it down, cunning politicians cannot set it up.

It is like a majestic ship that sails on through the storm, pushed forward by her own engines.

And thank God it is our Ship. With pardonable pride and joy we cry:

"Sail on, sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with Thee!"

So then this is the fence we have built up around our idea. This is our definition of democracy.

Democracy is (1) a force (2) of feeling (3) and opinion, (4) working within humanity, (5) and impelling the people of a given neighborhood (6) to get what they want, (7) that is, what the majority of them want, (8) by means of organization, (9) and to make this secure by laws (10) which are just and equal.

THE RELIGION OF AN EVERY DAY MAN

The Every-Day Businessman has a religion. It may not be like those we know or read about. But, such as it is, it is his religion. It holds him and moulds him. And he practises it with as much consistency as we can expect from ordinary human nature.

Let us see if we can understand it.

The Every-Day Businessman is not hostile to the church. He favors it. He contributes to its support. He regards it as a distinct business and social asset to his town. He thinks the church is fine for others.

As to the differing creeds of the churches he doesn't know what they are. When he reads them he doesn't understand them. When they are explained to him he doesn't see what difference it all makes. Why there are ten churches, mostly empty, in his town, and why they don't combine and have one prosperous organization, he doesn't know.

If he belongs to a church it is because his parents belonged, or he was caught early when all the other boys joined, or because his wife insists.

If he goes to church it is because he somehow feels that it is a good thing to do, that the church is in some way bound up with those moralities and decencies he believes in, that church people on the whole are the better class of folks, the kind he likes to have his wife and children associate with.

The distinctions between the churches he looks upon with tolerant indifference. They represent dividing lines of a former age, that mean nothing now. They are dead issues, to him.

They may be true enough, but what if they are ? He can't use them. He can go along three hundred and sixty-five days and never have occasion to call on one of them. When he hires a man he never thinks of asking whether he is a Presbyterian or a Baptist and if he wants to marry a girl he would not conceive it to be of the slightest importance whether she were a Unitarian or a Swedenborgian.

From all this emerges a paradox: The EveryDay Businessman (1) cares a deal about the church, and (2) he does not care about it at all.

And the solution of this paradox is this:

That the points whereon churches agree are, to him, vital, needful, and usable. The points whereon they differ do not interest him.

If we can find, therefore, what every church believes in, what they all teach, we can find the re

In other words, as the teachers would say: Find ligion of the Every-Day Businessman.