See how beautiful is holiness; see how rapturous is pleasure.

Surely these are worth seeking for their own sakes, without any "reward or punishment looming in the future."_' They find, in fact, the interests and the sentiments of the world's present life--all the glow and all the gloom of it--lying before them like the colours on a painter's palette, and think they have nothing to do but set to work and use them.

But let them wait a moment; they are in far too great a hurry.
The palette and its colours are not nearly ready for them.
One of the colours of life--religion, that is--a colour which, by their own admission, has been hitherto an important one, they have swept clean away.

They have swept it clean away, and let them remember why they have done so.

It may be a pleasing colour, or it may not: that is a matter of taste.