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There is a story of an Italian nobleman, who took this terrible revenge on one whom he hated. He set him alive in a niche in the palace he was building, and piled row upon row of bricks and stones about him, until the wall closed over his head, and shut him in his dark and awful living tomb.
Horrible as this story is, it is just what many men are doing with their souls. They are piling bricks and stones about them, walling them in, and leaving them there to die. In the very core of many a great fortune which men have gathered; in the inner chamber of many a beautiful palace which men have built; in the deepest shrine of many a temple of honor which men have reared in their own praise; hidden away out of sight is a grave over which God’s angels weep – the grave of a soul. Many a man has buried his manhood in his business. Many a poor slave has dug a deep grave for his soul with the wine cup for a spade. Fashion has woven the shroud and pall for many a poor girl’s soul. In many a garden of beauty and pleasure, hidden among the flowers, is a grave where innocence, faith, purity, virtue, honor, and truth lie buried.