earing upon
my duty. Meanwhile, so far as this was certain,--I had seen the
shadow of a hand upon the wall. It was clear that I had a good deal
to learn on the question of the Churches, and that perhaps some new
light was coming upon me. He who has seen a ghost, cannot be as if he
had never seen it. The heavens had opened and closed again. The
thought for the moment had been, "The Church of Rome will be found
right after all;" and then it had vanished. My old convictions
remained as before.

At this time, I wrote my Sermon on Divine Calls, which I published in
my volume of Plain Sermons. It ends thus:--

"O that we could take that simple view of things, as to feel that the
one thing which lies before us is to please God! What gain is it
to please the world, to please the great, nay even to please those
whom we love, compared with this? What gain is it to be applauded,
admired, courted, followed,--compared with this one aim, of 'not
being disobedient to a heavenly vision'? What can this world offer
comparable with that insight into spiritual things, that keen faith,
that heavenly peace, that high sanctity, that everlasting
righteousness, that hope of glory, which they have, who in sincerity
love and follow our Lord Jesus Christ? Let us beg and pray Him day by
day to reveal Himself to our souls more fully, to quicken our senses,
to give us sight and hearing, taste and touch of the world to come;
so to work within us, that we may sincerely say, 'Thou shalt guide me
with Thy counsel, and after that receive me with glory. Whom have I
in heaven but Thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire in
comparison of Thee. My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the
strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.'"

Now to trace the succession of thoughts, and the conclusions, and the
consequent innovations on my previous belief, and the general
conduct, to which I was led, upon this sudden visitation. And first,
I will say, whatever comes of saying it, for I leave inferences to
others, that for years I must have had something of an habitual
notion, though it was latent, and had never led me to distrust my own
convictions, that my mind had not found its ultimate rest, and that
in some sense or other I was on journey. During the same passage
across the Mediterranean in which I wrote "Lead kindly light," I also
wrote the verses, which are found in the Lyra under the head of
"Providences," beginning, "When I look back." This