y and serve and employ, making up the fabric of a busy
life, if I attain a very real happiness, I am tormented by the desire to
know why I am doing it, and I am not satisfied with the answer I
usually get. The patient may not be cured when he is relieved of his
anaemia, or when his emaciation has given place to the plumpness and
suppleness and physical strength that we call health. The man whom we
look upon as well, and who has never known physical illness, is not well
in the larger sense until he knows why he is working, why he is living,
why he is filling his life with activity. In spite of the elasticity and
spring of the world's interests, there must come often, and with a kind
of fatal insistence, the deep demand for a cause, for a justification.
If there is not an adequate significance behind it, life, with all its
courage and accomplishment, seems but a sorry thing, so full of pathos,
even in its brightest moments, so shadowed with a sense of loss and of
finality that the bravest heart may well fail and the truest courage
relax, supported only by the assurance that this way lies happiness or
that right is right.

What is this knowledge that the world is seeking, but can never find?
What is this final justification? If we seek it in its completeness, we
are doomed always to be ill and unsatisfied. If we are willing to look
only a little way into the great question, if we are willing to accept a
little for the whole, content because it is manifestly part of the final
knowledge, and because we know that final knowledge rests with God
alone, we shall understand enough to save us from much sorrow and
painful incompleteness.

There is, in the infinitely varied and beautiful world of nature, and in
the hearts of men, so much of beauty and truth that it is a wonder we do
not all realize that these things of common life may be in us and for us
the daily and hourly expression of the infinite being we call God. We do
not see God, but we do feel and know so much that we may fairly believe
to be of God that we do not need to see Him face to face. It is
something more than imagination to feel that it is the life of God in
our lives, so often unrecognized or ignored, that prompts us to all the
greatness and the inspiration and the accomplishment of the world. If we
could know more clearly the joy of such a conception, we should dry up
at its source much of the unhappiness which is, in a deep and subtle
way, at the bottom of ma