ourselves. In dealing with ourselves we shall only desire to be
faithful, fearless and sincere; in dealing with others we shall try to
be patient, tender, appreciative, and hopeful. If we have to blame, we
shall blame without bitterness, without the outraged sense of personal
vanity that brings anger with it. If we can praise, we shall praise
with generous prodigality; we shall not think of ourselves as a centre
of influence, as radiating example and precept; but we shall know our
own failures and difficulties, and shall realise as strongly that
others are led likewise, and that each is the Father's peculiar care,
as we realise it about ourselves. There will be no thrusting of
ourselves to the front, nor an uneasy lingering upon the outskirts of
the crowd, because we shall know that our place and our course are
defined. We may crave for happiness, but we shall not resent sorrow.
The dreariest and saddest day becomes the inevitable, the true setting
for our soul; we must drink the draught, and not fear to taste its
bitterest savour; it is the Father's cup. That a Christian, in such a
mood, can concern himself with what is called the historical basis of
the Gospels, is a thought which can only be met by a smile; for there
stands the record of perhaps the only life ever lived upon earth that
conformed itself, at every moment, in the darkest experiences that life
could bring, entirely and utterly to the Divine Will. One who walks in
the light that I have spoken of is as inevitably a Christian as he is a
human being, and is as true to the spirit of Christ as he is
indifferent to the human accretions that have gathered round the august
message.

The possession of such a secret involves no retirement from the world,
no breaking of ties, no ecclesiastical exercises, no endeavour to
penetrate obscure ideas. It is as simple as the sunlight and the air.
It involves no protest, no phrase, no renunciation. Its protest will
be an unconcerned example, its phrase will be a perfect sincerity of
speech, its renunciation will be what it does, not what it abstains
from doing. It will go or stay as the inner voice bids it. It will
not attempt the impossible nor the novel. Very clearly, from hour to
hour, the path will be made plain, the weakness fortified, the sin
purged away. It will judge no other life, it will seek no goal; it
will sometimes strive and cry, it will sometimes rest; it will move as
gently and simply in unison