erything I possessed, suddenly whelmed themselves in
shame, and staggered out into the dark. It is an experience that makes
a man feel that the very earth is rocking beneath him; it makes him
wonder if it is possible for a good man to be somehow caught in a hot
gust of devilry and swept clean off his feet. But the thing that has
impressed me as I have counted such names sadly on my fingers is that,
without an exception, they were all in the forties, most of them in the
early forties. Youth, of course, often sins, and sins grievously; but
youth recovers itself, and frequently emerges chastened and ennobled by
the bitter experience; but I can recall no instance of a man who fell
in the forties and who ever really recovered himself. Wherefore let
him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall. I remember that,
some time ago, Sir W. Robertson Nicoll quoted a brilliant essayist as
saying that 'the most dangerous years are the forties--the years when
men begin to be rich, when they have opportunities of gratifying their
passions, when they, perhaps, imagine that they have led a starved and
meagre existence.' And so, as I let my mind play about these old and
saddening memories, and as I reflect upon the essayist's corroboration
of my own conclusion, I fancy I could utter, from the very heart of me,
a particularly timely and particularly searching word to those who had
just attained their fortieth birthdays. Or, if I felt that the
occasion was too solemn for speech, I could at least lead them in
prayer. And when I led them in prayer, it would certainly be
Habakkuk's prayer: 'O Lord, revive Thy work in the midst of the years;
in the midst of the years make Thyself known!' It is a prayer for
revival and for revelation.

The real significance of that prayer lies in the fact that the supreme
tendency of middle life is towards prosiness. Young people write
poetry and get sentimental: so do old people. But people in the
forties--never! A man of forty would as soon be suspected of picking
his neighbour's pocket as of writing poetry. He would rather be seen
walking down the street without collar or necktie than be seen shedding
tears. Ask a company of young people to select some of their favourite
hymns or songs. They will at once call for hymns about heaven or songs
about love. So will old people. But you will never persuade
middle-aged people to sing such songs. They are in the practical or
prosy stage of life