just say what I feel, and ask God
gradually to eliminate what is wrong. In His light I shall see light.

Life is large, and I am fearful lest, in attempting a rough and ready
asceticism, I should exclude as wrong some elements which are in
reality God-given. I feel that in the case of our affections and our
longing for beauty. They are implanted in us, and tended and watered
by One who is perfect Love and perfect Beauty. They easily lead us
into sin, but that fact does not imply that they are wrong in
themselves. We have to bring them to their source that He may
interpret them, 'Too late have I sought thee,' said Augustine, 'thou
Beauty, so ancient and so new, too late have I sought thee.' I cannot
understand the mystery of your life, dearest, but I feel that all that
craving for beauty is in some kind of way a craving for God. Only God
demands the first place in your life before He will give you any
satisfying interpretation of that aspect of His life. You must love
Him for what He is--not simply because He is Beauty.

I slept and dreamed that life was Beauty,
I woke and found that life is Duty.

{157}

They are not really contradictory conceptions. Nay, Duty has a
spiritual beauty of her own. But sometimes they seem for a moment
divergent, and then you must at all costs choose the latter, and you
will find that

The topmost crags of Duty scaled,
Are close upon that shining tableland
To which God Himself is shield and sun.

And, if I am not mistaken, that land will be utterly full of an
absolutely satisfying beauty.

But I feel that I scarcely yet understand anything about the meaning of
Beauty. All I can do is to relate it immediately to God. If I see
beautiful scenery, I am usually thinking of God and thanking Him. If I
see human beauty, I feel that I am on holy ground, and I always try to
pray for a face that attracts me. I feel that I have a duty in return
for the revelation that has been given. But, as you see, I can explain
but little. These are merely rules of practical life which we very
imperfectly carry out. I cannot explain the relation of physical and
spiritual beauty in human beings. I feel, of course, that there ought
to be, there very often is, some such relation. But sometimes there is
something utterly wrong, and apparently no such connective. The
connection, I take it, is more perfect in nature; but in man, why,
something has occurred, something anomalous, which