selfishness and affection, guarded and secured in
material contentment. Let any one run over in his mind the memories of
his own circle, fill up the gaps, and ask himself bravely and frankly
whether he can trace a wise and honest and beneficent design all
through. He may try to console himself by saying that the disasters of
good people, after all, are the exceptions, and that, as a rule, courage
and purity of heart are rewarded, while cowardice and filthiness are
punished. But what room is there for exceptions in a world governed by
God Whom we must believe to be all-powerful, all-just, and all-loving?
It is the wilful sin of man, says the moralist, that has brought these
hard things upon him. But that is no answer, for the dark shadow lies
as sombrely over irresponsible nature, which groans over undeserved
suffering. And then, to make the shadow darker still, we have all the
same love of life, the same inalienable sense of our right to happiness,
the same inheritance of love. If we could but see that in the end pain
and loss would be blest, there is nothing that we would not gladly bear.
Yet that sight, too, is denied us.

And yet we live and laugh and hope, and forget. We take our fill of
tranquil days and pleasant companies, though for some of us the thought
that it is all passing, passing, even while we lean towards it smiling,
touches the very sunlight with pain. "How morbid, how self-tormenting!"
says the prudent friend, if such thoughts escape us. "Why not enjoy the
delight and bear the pain? That is life; we cannot alter it." But not on
such terms, can I, for one, live. To know, to have some assurance--that
is the one and only thing that matters at all. For if I once believed
that God were careless, or indifferent, or impotent, I would fly from
life as an accursed thing; whereas I would give all the peace, and
joy, and contentment, that may yet await me upon earth, and take up
cheerfully the heaviest burden that could be devised of darkness and
pain, if I could be sure of an after-life that will give us all the
unclouded serenity, and strength, and love, for which we crave every
moment. Sometimes, in a time of strength and calm weather, when the
sun is bright and the friend I love is with me, and the scent of
the hyacinths blows from the wood, I have no doubt of the love and
tenderness of God; and, again, when I wake in the dreadful dawn to the
sharp horror of the thought that one I love is suffering and crying