There is the religion of romanticism, when men of powerful intellect and strong imagination evolve their ideal and, withdrawing to some cave, give themselves to reverie.

In all such self becomes an orb, so large as to eclipse brother man and God.

Last of all there is the religion of Christ, in which love is root, blossom and fruitage.
It aims at the development and unfolding of everything that is gracious in life, whatever strikes at admiration, whether it is in school, in art, in song, in wit, in travel, in books; whatever is praiseworthy in courage or endurance, whatever has fineness and sweetness and nobility; all that belongs to the hero and patriot; all that belongs to the seer and scholar; all that belongs to leadership in trade and commerce--all these elements are to be united and carried upward into the sweetness and purity of life, until the full man, standing apart and standing above life, seems to have been informed with divine love, as with a presence.
And when love has made the most of the man himself it overflows to bless others.

Christ's disciples are not here to be ministered unto, but to minister.

Religion, says Christ, is love, and love is gentle toward those with hollow eyes and famine-stricken faces.