is working through us, in us, in those
whom we least understand, in those in whom we should least expect it, in
those who are almost repulsive to us, in all--working out one big purpose
through the ages, the purpose of the Eternal.

Remember me at my ordination as priest, please. Remember me, for I need
it so much, you do not know how much. It is such an important time, and
I cannot understand or enter into its significance, as I long to do.
Discipline, discipline, discipline, {86} self-discipline--obedience to
'orders.' Oh! how I long to have the power to realise these! Pray for
me that I may; that you may, pray also. Be very strict with yourself.
Compel yourself to obey rules. You are hurting so many besides yourself
when you are not strict with yourself. For we are 'one body.' You are
injuring those whom you like best, for you have less power over them,
when you have less power over yourself--less power to influence, to pray,
to thank for them.

Do remember how marvellously sacred a schoolmaster's work is: it is not
enough to be able to play games--how I sometimes wish I could!--it is not
enough to be able to teach Latin and Greek: a schoolmaster should be so
much more. He represents the authority of God. He can be _so_ much, he
may be _so_ little to boys. We can never enter into a boy's life, into
his deepest thoughts, his 'long, long thoughts,' unless we too become
little children, unless we become young and fresh and simple--and all
young life comes from Him, who makes all the little children who ever
come into this big world. Let us enter into His life. Do not become a
schoolmaster simply to fill up time, to have something to do.

_To W. A. B._

Christ's College, Cambridge: November 20, 1902.

. . . I am glad that you like your school, that you like your
boys. . . . Think of the weak chaps, those who are 'out of the way,'
those who are not naturally {87} attractive, those who positively repel
you. They often most need your sympathy, your prayers.

And now about your ordination. Do you know I am doubtful whether it
would be a good thing for you to be ordained to a school chaplaincy. I
am almost more than doubtful. You would, I suppose, have no parish work,
nor anything to do with poor folk. Your work would be reading prayers,
and preaching about three times a year, I suppose. You would scarcely
care to be a curate in a country or poor town parish later on, would you,
if you began thu