hich we
can hardly detect a flaw, and upon which already rests a foregleam of
the presence of God.

For one secret source of the influence which such a life may exercise,
undoubtedly lies in its contrast to men's common and more active
existence. I have just indicated one element of that contrast; the
completeness with which a comparatively narrow place may be filled, over
against the want of balance, and symmetry, and thoroughness, of which
all day-workers in the world must be conscious. But this is not all.
There is a great charm in the difference between the heated air in which
we fight our battles even for goodness, and the still atmosphere which
environs these quiet lives: we come back to them from the struggle, and
find that while they too are full of all fine aspiration for right, and
thrill with a divine indignation against wrong, their aspiration is
without restlessness, their indignation has no root of bitterness in it;
they are not unduly elated by successes which have turned our heads, nor
daunted by failures which have utterly cast us down; their faith is, as
ours should be, far more in God than in any of His human instruments.
Their characteristic excellences answer in many respects to our
weaknesses, and we admire and love them all the more: we cannot wait,
and their existence is one long patience: the noise and the light of
publicity are our life, and God has hidden them in His pavilion from the
strife of tongues: we argue, and wrangle, and fight, while they but love
and pray: health and energy are the very conditions of our activity, and
their life is rooted in weakness and in pain: we converse continually
with men, and it is a familiar thing with them to be alone with God. And
so it often happens that the chamber of long and disabling sickness, or
the sofa from which the invalid rarely moves, is the fountain of the
finest influence, and the centre of the noblest activities. For there
the charities of life may be all astir, and the quick affections thence
make their far journeys of sympathy; thither may come the workers, now
for the refreshment of peace, now for the balm of consolation, now,
again, for the inspiration of a purer dutifulness; while over all
constantly broods the presence of God, who gives and who denies the
power of active service; who bids this child toil and struggle, while
from that He asks only that she should "stand and wait." So in the
weakness of one many are made strong; and the