"loft," somewhere apart by itself. The distinctive feature of this room was that its windows opened toward Jerusalem. Into this room Daniel was accustomed to go three times a day, throw open the lattice windows, look toward Jerusalem, and then in the thought of all that Jerusalem represented, kneel and talk with God.

Such was his custom. If the matters of his life were comparatively comfortable, he did this; and if those matters were seriously unpleasant, he did the same. Should, then, an occasion much out of the ordinary arise, an occasion involving a crisis in his life, it would be perfectly natural that he should, as he had invariably done, go into his retired chamber and open the windows.

Such an extraordinary occasion arose when Darius issued the decree that the man who prayed to other than himself should be cast into a den of lions. In itself the decree seemed justifiable. It was customary for the Persians to worship their kings as gods. Ormuzd was said to dwell in every Persian king. Accordingly, divine authority was attributed to Persian kings, and whenever one of them issued a law, it had the force of infallibility. So it was "that the law of the Medes and the Persians published by a king altereth not."

At this particular time a decree commanding all people to bow to the king was perhaps a matter of state policy. The kingdom of the Medes and Persians had just been established. Here was an opportunity of testing the loyalty of the entire realm to the new king, Darius. If the people far and wide would bow to him, then they were loyal; but if they refused so to bow, then they evidently were disloyal.

There was, however, an ulterior motive lying back of this seemingly rational decree. Many of the state officials envied Daniel. He was a foreigner, and still he held higher place than they. They desired to bring him into disrepute. They could not accomplish their purposes through charges of malfeasance of office, for his actions were absolutely faultless. They therefore resorted to the securing of this decree, believing, from what they knew of Daniel's habits and character, that he would, as he always had done, pray to Jehovah and not to Darius. In such case he would violate the decree and expose himself to the penalty of death.

Daniel knew that the decree had been issued. What would he do about it? The envious officials watched to see. When Daniel went to his palace their eyes followed him. Perhaps they had spies in the palace. In any case, some eyes tracked him as he passed from room to room until he came into his "loft," his "upper room," and then they saw him open the windows toward Jerusalem and kneel before Jehovah! So much was it a part of Daniel's life to keep the windows of his soul open to the best, that the direst threat had no power to divert him for an instant from his wonted course.

Daniel kept the windows of his soul open to the best religion. To him Jerusalem stood for the best religion on earth. From the time, as a boy of fourteen, he first went away from home, he had lived among peoples having different faiths. He had known the religion of the Chaldeans, and had seen its phases under Nebuchadnezzar and Belshazzar. It had much in its favor: its temples were beautiful, its ceremonies ornate, its feasts imposing. It had much however that was not in its favor: its heartlessness, its impurity, and its deceit. He had known, too, the fire-worshiping religion of the Persians. Many of its features appealed to him. The sun then as always was an object of admiration. As it rises above the horizon, moving with a stately progress that no cloud can check, no force of nature can retard, and no hand of man can withstand, it is the personification of majesty. As it causes the birds to sing, the beasts of the field to bestir themselves, and mankind to issue forth to labor, it is the emblem of power. As it makes the grass to grow and the flower to bloom, and as it draws skyward the moisture of lake and ocean that, like a great benefactor, it may send accumulated showers to refresh the parched earth, the sun is a very life-giver. It was no wonder that the Persians of Daniel's day, with their imperfect knowledge, bowed before that sun and worshiped it; nor was it a wonder that they worshiped all fire that has within itself such transforming and beautifying and energizing power.

But though Daniel knew this religion, and the many other religions that in his time had their votaries in Babylon, he kept his windows open toward Jerusalem. Other religions might attempt the answer to the soul's inquiries concerning the meaning of life, other religions might have their beauties and their deformities, other religions might help him very materially in his political career, but to him one religion was the highest and the best, and to the influence of that religion he opened his soul. Jerusalem stood for one God—an invisible Creator who formed all things and was Lord over the sun itself as well as over man. This God, an unseen Spirit, was spotless in his character, and would dwell in the heart of man as man's friend and helper. To Daniel there was no such religion anywhere as the religion that taught this incomparable God—a God without a vice, a God who forgives sin, a God who never disdains the weakest soul that comes to him in penitence—and still is "Lord of lords and King of kings," the only wise and only Eternal One.

Once a distinguished thinker, addressing students, said: "I have found great benefit in my own experience by emphasizing a very simple principle, one which never fails me when it is applied to questions of the spiritual life: 'It is always best to believe the best.'"

Then he illustrated his meaning. The religion that teaches that all events are guided by intelligence toward a goal of love, rather than by blind and remorseless force, enables us to live in hope. It makes existence, not a prison-house, but a place of broad and splendid horizons; it makes the service of humanity a prophecy of blessing for all; it makes the discipline of the race a means toward a beneficent end. The religion that also teaches that we all are children of a good God, and that to the weakest and humblest of us there may be deliverance from all evil, transformation into all holiness, and finally reception to immortality in the presence and service of regnant perfection, such a religion is the best—the best in its hopes, the best in its inspiration, the best in its purposes, and the best in its results. Because it is the best, it is best to believe it; best to believe it, because through believing it we are helped toward the noblest manhood and are enabled to face life and death alike, with bravery.

All this Daniel realized. Accordingly, amid all the distractions and appeals, and even temptations, of other religions, he kept his heart's windows open to the influences of God's religion. That was the wise attitude for him. It is the wise attitude for all. It is a man's duty, if he be true to his own soul, to keep an open mind to the best religion. Christianity claims to be the best, and asks acceptance on that ground alone. It welcomes study of every other religion. It rejoices in a "Parliament of Religions," wherein the advocates of different religions may present the claims of their religions in the strongest language possible. It listens as one religion is praised because it can secure calmness of mind, and as another is praised because it can secure heroism of life. As it listens, it delights in every word of encomium, so long as each speaker and hearer keeps an open heart toward the best religion. Then, when its own opportunity comes, Christianity presents