eturned Lady Belfield; "but I
feel also my utter inability to set about it."

"My dear madam," said Mr. Stanley, "this is the best and most salutary
feeling you can have. That very consciousness of insufficiency will, I
trust, drive you to the fountain of all strength and power: it will
quicken your faith, and animate your prayer; faith, which is the
habitual principle of confidence in God; and prayer, which is the
exercise of that principle toward him who is the object of it."

"But Dr. Barlow," said Lady Belfield, "was so discouraging! He seemed to
intimate, as if the conflict of a Christian with sin must be as lasting
as his life; whereas, I had hoped that victory once obtained, was
obtained forever."

"The _strait gate_," replied Mr. Stanley, "is only the entrance of
religion; the _narrow way_ is a continued course. The Christian life, my
dear Lady Belfield, is not a point but a progress. It is precisely in
the race of Christianity as in the race of human glory. Julius Caesar and
St. Paul describe their respective warfares in nearly the same terms.
_We should count nothing done, while any thing remains undone_,[2] says
the Warrior. _Not counting myself to have attained--forgetting the
things which are behind, and pressing forward to those which are
before_, says the Apostle. And it is worth remarking, that they both
made the disqualifying observation after attainments almost incredible.
As there was no being a hero by any idler way, so there is no being a
Christian by any easier road. The necessity of pursuit is the same in
both cases, though the objects pursued differ as widely as the vanities
of time from the riches of eternity.

[Footnote 2: Nil actum reputans dum quod superesset agendum. LUCAN.]

"Do not think, my dear madam," added Mr. Stanley, "that I am erecting
myself into a censor, much less into a model. The corruptions which I
lament, I participate. The deficiencies which I deplore, I feel. Not
only when I look abroad, am I persuaded of the general prevalence of
evil by what I see; but when I look into my own heart, my conviction is
confirmed by what I experience. I am conscious, not merely of frailties,
but of sins. I will not hypocritically accuse myself of gross offenses
which I have no temptation to commit, and from the commission of which,
motives inferior to religion would preserve me. But I am continually
humbled in detecting mixed motives in almost all I do. Such strugglings
of pride with my