a moment, and then the flame dies away into thin, almost imperceptible, ashes, which fall at the Pontiff’s feet, as the choir chant the refrain “Pater sanctus, sic transit gloria mundi.”  No earthly honour is worth having except it is the result or the reward of character.  Even in Pagan Rome the Temple of Honour could only be reached through the Temple of Virtue.  And over the gateway of the greatest of all kingdoms in which Christ Jesus is supreme, this motto is inscribed indelibly—­“He that humbleth himself shall be exalted, and he that exalteth himself shall be abased.”

How often such ambition is accompanied by disregard of the rights of others!  What did Adonijah care for his father’s dignity, or his brother’s claims?  David was still on the throne, and Solomon’s right to succeed him had been authoritatively proclaimed, and yet, with inbred selfishness, this ambitious prince declared, “I will be king!” The lawfulness of any ambition may often be tested by the amount of selfishness which inheres in it.  If desire for distinction, or wealth, leads one to crush a competitor to the wall without ruth, or to refuse all help to others in a struggle where every man seems to fight for his own hand, its lawfulness may well be questioned.  Our Lord taught us to love even our enemies, and surely competitors have a still stronger claim on our consideration, and certainly all who belong to a church which is based on sacrifice, and symbolised by a cross, should even in such matters deny themselves, and seek every man his neighbour’s good.

All sin is the worse when it is committed, as Adonijah’s was, in defiance of warning.  He deliberately repeated his brother’s offence.  Yet he knew the tragic story of his death, and how his brilliant life had been ended by violence in a wood, where he perished without a friend; and he must often have seen his father brooding alone over the trouble thus caused, as if he was still whispering to himself:  “O Absalom, my son, would God I had died for thee!  O Absalom, my son, my son!” Yet the very sin of Absalom which had been so terribly punished, Adonijah boldly committed.

History is crowded with examples of ambitious men who died in disappointment and despair,—­Alexander, who conquered a world, and then wept because there were no more worlds to conquer, perished in a scene of debauchery, after setting fire to the city.  Hannibal, who filled three bushel measures with the gold rings of fallen knights, at last, by poison self-administered, died unwept in a foreign land.  Caesar, who had practically the whole world at his feet, was stabbed to the heart by so-called friends, even Brutus being among them.  Napoleon, the scourge and conqueror of Europe, died, a heart-broken exile, in St Helena.  Indeed, it is written in letters of blood on the pages of history, “The expectation of the wicked shall perish.”

Happily, angels’ voices are calling us to higher things.  Conscience whispers to us of duty and love.  Christ Himself, from the Cross, which was the stepping-stone to His throne, still cries to every one who will listen, “Follow me.”