The context displays the miserable weakness of a mighty king. Placed in a position of immense responsibility, he might well have been overwhelmed with anxiety lest his conduct should prove detrimental to the millions under his rule. But no considerations of this nature seem to have exercised his mind; on the contrary, he was animated only with the vainglorious wish of exhibiting to the world "the riches of his glorious kingdom, and the honour of his excellent majesty." And he could think of no better way of gratifying this wish than by making an extravagant feast. Doubtless there was poverty, and wretchedness, and suffering enough in his vast dominions, and to have used his abundant resources to alleviate these evils would have reflected immortal glory upon his name; but he preferred to squander his substance in riotous revelry, a proceeding which must soon have necessitated the levying of fresh imposts, in order to replenish his impoverished exchequer. A right feeling may have a wrong development. The desire of excelling is truly laudable; but when it is alloyed with unworthy motives it becomes most despicable. Let us notice, in the first place, wrong ambition, of which we have an instance in the text; and, in the second place, right ambition, of which the former is but a perversion.

I. WRONG AMBITION. The most common forms of this are -

1. An immoderate love of fame. We have instances of this in every walk of life; some of the most brilliant characters in history have been victims of it. There have been authors who prostrated their divine gifts to gain the admiration of the world. There have been orators whose chief aim was to secure the applause of the multitude. And there are men now who will face danger, endure hardship, sacrifice property, for the sake of world-wide renown - or even a paltry distinction in the narrow sphere in which they move.

2. An immoderate love of power. Men hasten to be rich not because of the inherent value of riches themselves, but because rather of the power which riches enable them to command; for at the word of the rich luxury, gratification, service spring up as if at the touch of a magic wand. The thirst for power is insatiable. The amount enjoyed, however great, only begets a craving for more. It has led to the most sanguinary wars that have defiled the earth in ancient and modern times. Alexander, Caesar, Buonaparte, whom Christian enlightenment has taught us to regard with horror, are but types of all conquerors, however exalted their professed aims.

3. An immoderate love of display. This is the most contemptible form of all, and to this King Ahasuerus became a willing victim. Think of the sumptuousness of this feast, the number of the guests, the magnificence of the palace, the costliness of the furniture, the gorgeousness of the drapery, by which he sought to impress the world with the "honour of his excellent majesty" on this occasion. The morbid desire among the well-to-do classes of outshining each other in the grandeur of their mansions, and the splendour of their entertainments, is a standing reproach upon modern civilisation. In spite of the gigantic frauds and disastrous bankruptcies - the natural results of this spirit - which occasionally startle society, the evil seems as flagrant as ever.

II. RIGHT AMBITION. It does not follow that a feeling is essentially wrong because it is sometimes allowed to flow in wrong directions. Thus ambition, however uncomely in certain connections, may be in itself healthy, and conducive to our highest welfare. Ambition, then, is commendable when it is -

1. A desire to cultivate the powers with which we are endowed. These powers are various: physical, mental, spiritual. A man cannot lay claim to the highest virtue simply because he strives to have strong nerves and well-developed muscles; still perfect manhood is not independent of these things. The struggle for intellectual distinction is certainly more dignified, and has a more ennobling influence upon those who are engaged in it. The chief glory of man, however, is his spiritual nature, his ability to hold communion with the unseen; hence spiritual pursuits are the most exalted. However strong man may be physically, or great intellectually, if his spiritual powers be dwarfed, he comes miserably short of the true ideal.

2. A desire to make the most of our outward circumstances. No man's circumstances have been so adverse as to make all excellence unattainable to him. The most barren and desolate life has some spots which, by cultivation, may yield glorious results. In the majority of cases unfruitfulness is due to culpable negligence rather than external difficulties. Just think of the numerous instances in which formidable disadvantages have been conquered. Poor boys have worked their way up into the presence of kings, blind men have mastered the intricacies of optics, the children of profane parents have been renowned for their saintliness. All honour to those who have wrestled with fortune and defied her opposition! The circumstances of most men, however, are more or less favourable to their advancement, and to make the most of them is not only allowable, but a positive duty.

3. A desire to benefit the world. The best ambition is that which is furthest removed from self. The men who will be held in everlasting remembrance are those who have contributed their quota to the progress of their kind. When the names of the most potent warriors shall have perished, the names of philosophers like Newton, inventors like Stephenson, and reformers like Luther, shall live in the affections of a grateful world. But usefulness does not depend upon eminence; every man in his own sphere may do something for the common good. - R.

All the wives too are included, for they are all "to give honour to their husbands, both to the great and small." Well, the great, the really great, will get the honour easily, and could do very well probably without the helpful edict. Where there is real greatness, which, in Christian speech, we may translate into real goodness, it is the wife's joy to render what it is the husband's pride to wear. But the honour is to be given "both to the great and small!" "Ay, there's the rub." If this insurrectionary torch should go through the land, what will become of the small ones? — the selfish, the spiteful, the meddlesome, the rude, the mean, the silly, the helpless, the good-for-nothing? They are all to have honour! As if a decree could really get it, or keep it from them. Wouldn't the better plan be, in that case, and in many a case besides, that the small shall try to grow larger? Let them be ashamed of their littleness, and rise out of it into something like nobleness. Let them love and help their wives, and care for their children, and honour will come as harvest follows sowing. But unless they do something like that, one fears that all the edicts that can be devised and promulgated will leave them as it finds them — "small."

(A. Raleigh, D. D.)