of virtue, it will matter little to us by what strange and weary
ways, or through what painful and humiliating processes, we have arrived
thither. If God has loved us, if God will receive us, then let us submit
loyally and humbly to His law--"Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth, and
scourgeth every son whom He receiveth."

_All Saints' Day Sermons_.

I believe that the wisest plan of bearing sorrow is sometimes not to try
to bear it--as long as one is not crippled for one's every-day duties--but
to give way to sorrow, utterly and freely. Perhaps sorrow is sent that
we _may_ give way to it, and, in drinking the cup to the dregs, find some
medicine in it itself which we should not find if we began doctoring
ourselves, or letting others doctor us. If we say simply, "I am
wretched, I ought to be wretched;" then we shall perhaps hear a voice,
"Who made thee wretched but God? Then what can He mean but thy good?"
And if the heart answers impatiently, "My good? I don't want it, I want
my love!" perhaps the voice may answer, "Then thou shalt have both in
time."

_Letters and Memories_.

After all, the problem of life is not a difficult one, for it solves
itself--so very soon at best--by death. Do what is right, the best way
you can, and wait to the end to _know_. . . .

If, in spite of wars, and fevers, and accidents, and the strokes of
chance, this world be green and fair, what must the coming world be like?
Let us comfort ourselves as St. Paul did (in infinitely worse times),
that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared
with the glory that shall be revealed. It is not fair to quote one text
about the creation groaning and travailing without the other, that it
will not groan and travail long. Would the mother who has groaned and
travailed and brought forth children--would she give up those children
for the sake of not having had that pain? Then believe that the day will
come when the world, and every human being in it who has really groaned
and travailed, would not give up its past pangs for the sake of its then
present perfection, but will look back on this life, as the mother does
on past pain, with glory and joy.

_Letters and Memories_.

I write to you because every expression of human sympathy brings some
little comfort, if it be only to remind such as you that you are not
alone in the world. I know nothing can make up for such a loss as yours.
{26} But you will still have love