g it or trying to beguile it or forget
it, we can get to the end of our probation quicker; if, that is, we let
the truth burn into us, instead of timidly shrinking away from it.

This seems to me the essence of true religion; the people who cling
very close to particular creeds and particular beliefs seem to me to
lose robustness; it is like trying to go to heaven in a bath-chair! It
retards rather than hastens the apprehension of the truth. Here lies,
to my mind, the unreality of mystical books of devotion and piety,
where one is instructed to practise a servile sort of abasement, and to
beg forgiveness for all one's noblest efforts and aspirations. Neither
can I believe that the mystical absorption, inculcated by such books,
in the human personality, the human sufferings of Christ, is wholesome,
or natural, or even Christian. I cannot imagine that Christ Himself
ever recommended such a frame of mind for an instant. What we want is a
much simpler sort of Christianity. If a man had gone to Christ and
expressed a desire to follow Him, Christ, I believe, would have wanted
to know whether he loved others, whether he hated sin, whether he
trusted God. He would not have asked him to recite the articles of his
belief, and still less have suggested a mystical and emotional sort of
passion for His own Person. As least I cannot believe it, and I see
nothing in the Gospels which would lead me to believe it.

In any case this belief in our experience being sent us for our far-off
ultimate benefit has helped me greatly of late, and will, I am sure,
help me still more. I do not practise it as I should, but I believe
with all my heart that the truth lies there.

After all, the truth IS there; it matters little that we should know
it; it is just so and not otherwise, and what we believe or do not
believe about it, will not alter it; and that is a comfort too.

April 24, 1891.

After I had gone upstairs to bed last night, I found I had left a book
downstairs which I was reading, and I went down again to recover it. I
could not find any matches, and had some difficulty in getting hold of
the book; it is humiliating to think how much one depends on sight.

A whimsical idea struck me. Imagine a creature, highly intellectual,
but without the power of sight, brought up in darkness, receiving
impressions solely by hearing and touch. Suppose him introduced into a
room such as mine, and endeavouring to form an impression of the kind