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I have seen many a time on the sea-shore bits of driftwood tossed hither and thither, the helpless sport of the waves. I have seen on the same shore the black rock standing there unmoved, unshaken — opposing itself to all the might and force of the waves which fumed and seethed around it and dashed themselves in wild and savage fury against it. To be real men we must be not like the driftwood — driven about by every passing wave of opinion; we must be like the rock — able to resist and oppose the full force of the world's fashion and custom. This will not be easy. The world has never loved singularity. Loyalty to conviction, courage to say "No" to the demands made by fashion and custom, will entail upon you scorn, hardship, hate. The way of life is still the narrow path. But I have yet to learn that difficulties can daunt the young and ardent soul. Garibaldi could only promise his ragged soldiers suffering, wounds, and perhaps death if they followed him into Italy, and yet they responded to his call, and said, "General, we are the men." And I am not afraid now that those who have any love or enthusiasm for truth and right will be daunted or terrified because of the suffering wherewith the path of duty abounds.

(J. D. Jones.)

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KJV: And it came to pass the same night, that the LORD said unto him, Take thy father's young bullock, even the second bullock of seven years old, and throw down the altar of Baal that thy father hath, and cut down the grove that is by it:

WEB: It happened the same night, that Yahweh said to him, "Take your father's bull, even the second bull seven years old, and throw down the altar of Baal that your father has, and cut down the Asherah that is by it;