poverty, or the weariness of pain, and to win for ourselves wealth or
prominence, we must be on our guard against the indulgence of defiant
self-will, like that of him who said, "I _will_ be king."

Adonijah's motive in aspiring to the throne was not that he might the
better care for the welfare of others, but that he might selfishly
enjoy wealth and honour. He cared much for outward show, while he
failed to cultivate inward worth, preparing for himself chariots,
horsemen, and a retinue of servants, but never displaying a love of
justice or ability in statesmanship. And such little motives as his
never make greatness.

Adonijah was not the last to be attracted by glitter and tinsel, and to
live for earthly things which perish in the using. The candidate who
cares much for honour and nothing for learning, the professional man
who will sacrifice reputation to win a fortune, and all who wrong
others in order to better themselves, only gain what is transient and
unsatisfying. It would be well for all to learn the lesson (not least
he for whom the ceremony is primarily intended), which is symbolically
taught when a Pope is crowned. The Master of the Ceremonies takes a
lighted taper in one hand, and in the other a reed with a handful of
flax fastened to it. The flax flares up for 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_."