But with it all there will be a shame and a humiliation and a deep inward pain that will escape into a cry of prayer for him and for yourself and for all such sinners on the same street.

If you do not find an escape from your sharp resentment in ejaculatory prayer and in a heart-cleansing great good-will, your heart, before you are a hundred steps on, will be as black with ill-will as his is.

But that must not again be.

Would you hate or strike back at a blind man who stumbled and fell against you on the street?
Would you retaliate at a maniac who gnashed his teeth and shook his fist at you on his way past you to the madhouse?
Or at a corpse being carried past you that had been too long without burial?
And shall you retaliate on a miserable man driven mad with diabolical passion?
Or at a poor sinner whose heart is as rotten as the grave?
Ill-will is abroad in our learned and religious city at all hours of the day and night.

He glares at us under the sun by day, and under the street lamps at night.