rtable?

As the curate stepped in, a grizzled head turned toward him a haggard
face with dry, bloodshot eyes, and a long hand came from the bed to
greet him.

"Ah, Mr. Wingfold!" cried the minister, "God has forsaken me. If He had
only forgotten me, I could have borne that, I think; for, as Job says,
the time would have come when He would have had a desire to the work of
His hands. But He has turned His back upon me, and taken His free Spirit
from me. He has ceased to take His own way, to do His will with me, and
has given me my way and my will. Sit down, Mr. Wingfold. You can not
comfort me, but you are a true servant of God, and I will tell you my
sorrow. I am no friend to the church, as you know, but--"

"So long as you are a friend of its Head, that goes for little with me,"
said the curate. "But if you will allow me, I should like to say just
one word on the matter."

He wished to try what a diversion of thought might do; not that he
foolishly desired to make him forget his trouble, but that he knew from
experience any gap might let in comfort.

"Say on, Mr. Wingfold. I am a worm and no man."

"It seems, then, to me a mistake for any community to spend precious
energy upon even a just finding of fault with another. The thing is, to
trim the lamp and clean the glass of our own, that it may be a light to
the world. It is just the same with communities as with individuals. The
community which casts if it be but the mote out of its own eye, does the
best thing it can for the beam in its neighbor's. For my part, I confess
that, so far as the clergy form and represent the Church of England, it
is and has for a long time been doing its best--not its worst, thank
God--to serve God and Mammon."

"Ah! that's my beam!" cried the minister. "I have been serving Mammon
assiduously. I served him not a little in the time of my prosperity,
with confidence and show, and then in my adversity with fears and
complaints. Our Lord tells us expressly that we are to take no thought
for the morrow, because we can not serve God and Mammon. I have been
taking thought for a hundred morrows, and that not patiently, but
grumbling in my heart at His dealings with me. Therefore now He has cast
me off."

"How do you know that He has cast you off?" asked the curate.

"Because He has given me my own way with such a vengeance. I have been
pulling, pulling my hand out of His, and He has let me go, and I lie in
the dirt."

"But you have not