t and peaceable; let him take freely the comfort of the holy
influences which Churches, for all their complex fabric of traditions
and ceremony, still hold out to the spirit; let him drink largely from
all sources of beauty, both natural and human; the Churches themselves
have gained, by age, and gentle associations, and artistic perception,
a large treasure of things that are full of beauty--architecture and
music and ceremony--that are only hurtful when held to be special and
peculiar channels of holiness and sweetness, when they are supposed to
have a definite sanctification which is opposed to the sanctification
of the beauty exterior to them. Let the Christian be grateful for the
beauty they hold, and use it freely and simply. Only let him beware of
thinking that what is the open inheritance of the world is in the
possession of any one smaller circle. Let him not even seek to go
outside of the persuasion, as it is so strangely called, in which he
was born. Christ spoke little of sects, and the fusion of sects,
because He contemplated no Church, in the sense in which it is now too
often used, but a unity of feeling which should overspread the earth.
The true Christian will recognize his brethren not necessarily in the
Church or sect to which he belongs, but in all who live humbly, purely,
and lovingly, in dependence on the Great Father of all living.

For after all, disguise it from ourselves as we will, we are all girt
about with dark mysteries, into which we have to look whether we dare
or not. We fill our life as full as we can of occupation and
amusements, of warmth and comfort; yet sometimes, as we sit in our
peaceful room, the gust pipes thin and shrill round the corners of the
court, the rain rustles in the tree; we drop the book which we hold,
and wonder what manner of things we indeed are, and what we shall be.
Perhaps one of our companions is struck down, and goes without a word
or sign on his last journey; or some heavy calamity, some loss, some
bereavement hangs over our lives, and we enter into the shadow; or some
inexplicable or hopeless suffering involves one whom we love, from
which the only deliverance is death; and we realize that there is no
explanation, no consolation possible. In such moments we tend to think
that the world is a very terrible place, and that we pay a heavy price
for our share in it. How unsubstantial then appear our hopes and
dreams, our little ambitions, our paltry joys! In such