st physical world itself disheartens us. Who
are we, in the midst of this unheeding universe, that we can claim for
ourselves so supreme a heritage; that we can assert for ourselves other
laws than those which seem to be all-pervading, and that we can dream
of breaking through them into a something else beyond?

And yet it may be that faith will succeed and conquer sight--that the
preciousness of the treasure we cling to will nerve us with enough
strength to retain it. It may be that man, having seen the way that,
unaided, he is forced to go, will change his attitude; that, finding
only weakness in pride, he will seek for strength in humility, and will
again learn to say, '_I believe, although I never can comprehend_.' Once
let him say this, his path will again grow clearer for him. Through
confusion, and doubt, and darkness, the brightness of God's countenance
will again be visible; and by-and-by again he may hear the Word calling
him. From his first assent to his own moral nature he _must_ rise to a
theism, and he _may_ rise to the recognition of a Church--to a visible
embodiment of that moral nature of his, as directed and joined to its
one aim and end--to its delight, and its desire, and its completion.
Then he will see all that is high and holy taking a distinct and helping
form for him. Grace and mercy will come to him through set and certain
channels. His nature will be redeemed visibly from its weakness and from
its littleness--redeemed, not in dreams or in fancy, but in fact. God
Himself will be his brother and his father; he will be near akin to the
Power that _is_ always, and _is_ everywhere. His love of virtue will be
no longer a mere taste of his own: it will be the discernment and
taking to himself of the eternal strength and of the eternal treasure;
and, whatever he most reveres in mother, or wife, or sister--this he
will know is holy, everywhere and for ever, and is exalted high over all
things in one of like nature with theirs, the Mother of grace, the
Parent of sweet clemency, who will protect him from the enemy, and save
him in the hour of death.

Such is the conception of himself, and of his place in existence, that,
always implicit in man, man has at last developed. He has at last
conceived his race--the faithful of it--as the bride of God. Is this
majestic conception a true one, or is it a dream only, with no abiding
substance? Is it merely a misty vision rising up like an exhalation from
the eart