selfishness; and what
self-loving soul is there that could or would, left alone to herself,
conceive of following such a way of cruel necessities, of such hard
endurance without an Example before her? For the way is a hard
way, a toiling way, at times an awful way, and as we pursue it the
burden grows heavier, the pain sharper: then it grows lighter as the
soul becomes renewed; and the pain is no longer the pain of
loneliness, of sin and sorrow, but becomes the pain of Love, waiting
in certainty for an ultimate Reunion: it becomes pain which is being
forgotten in the returning happiness of God.

But first must come the abandonment of Self-will, bit by bit, to the
death. So we see upon the Cross Christ stripped of everything, and
at the last stripped even of Union with the Father: consenting to bear
the pains of even Spiritual Death: "My God, my God, why hast
Thou forsaken Me?" If there could be any greater depth of pain, He
would have shared that also with the wandering soul. So we are
indeed one with Him in everything: and He with us.

In Spirit-life we meet the Ideas of God uncrystallised into any form.
They penetrate the soul--she flashes to them, she becomes them, she
reaches unimaginable heights of bliss by "becoming." This form of
joy is incomprehensible until experienced: it is stupendous living, if
it may be so expressed it is happiness at lightning velocity; but it is a
lightning happiness which must flash to God. When it ceases to do
this in a full manner, it ceases to be full happiness. When it becomes
further perverted, diverted, and, finally, inverted, it ceases to be any
happiness whatever. It is independent of surroundings: what it
depends on is a perfect reciprocity with its own Source. That the
laws which govern this Divine living will not be altered to suit
wandering souls is not to be wondered at; but a new system may be
called into being, and we may be able to perceive it in this world,
evolved from first to last with its substance, forms, creatures, flesh,
and time, in order to assist such wanderers. God _spends Himself_
for every wandering soul.

XII

Directly this world ceases to afford us pleasure, we wonder why we
were born. The soul longs for happiness; feels certain she was
created for it. So she is. Looking at the masses of drab, ugly, and
unsuccessful lives around us, we may well ask what purpose and
what progress is there in the lives of all these hopeless-looking
people. But there is