."

* * *

On every side we hear complaints against the Church. It is suggested
that we are falling away from God because of some lack in the
Church. But this fault of the Church is exactly the same fault which
is to be found in the members of the congregation which compose it--a
tepid love for a dimly known Lord. When the priest and every
member of the congregation in his own heart worships the beloved
Christ, then the Church will be found to have gained just that which
is now lacking, and which we attribute to some priestly failure and
not our own also.

Of Church ceremonials it is hard to speak, for the lover of God can
have no eyes for them: he is all heart, but sees it this way--that set
rules, regulations, and ceremonials in prayers and worship are most
right and proper for the creature publicly worshipping its Creator.
That the assembling together in church is the outward and visible
acknowledgment of the creature's worship of God and also a looking
for the fulfilling of the promise "where two or three are gathered
together in My name." The redeemed creature worships very
ardently with all its little heart and mind and all its tiny strength,
learning in its own self the words of David: "I was glad when they
said unto me, We will go into the house of the Lord." But the soul
cannot worship in set words, neither can she have need or use for the
ceremonials invented by and for the creature, but worships God in
another manner altogether, as she is taught by the Holy Spirit, and in
the greatness of her worship mounts to God, and closes with God.
For holy love cannot long be divided.

Often when the creature is alone, and eating, its Lord will visit it,
causing the soul and the mind and the heart of it to cry out: "But of
what use to me is this meat and drink which is before me? I have no
need of it, I can do nothing other than sip of the holy beauty of my
Lord." And immediately we are so pressed the earthly cup must be
set down, and in very great ecstasy we sup in spirit with the Lord.
The unnameable Elixir of God is the Wine, and Love is the Bread.

When holy love grows great in us we wonder that we ever thought
that human love was love at all, for no matter how great it may once
have seemed it now seems so small it is no greater than the
humming of a bee around a flower in summer time. But holy
love--who can commence to describe it? It rides upon great wings, it
burns like a devouring fire, it makes nothing of