and divine
energy as with knowledge of the saw, plane, and hoe."

And, of his broader outlook on life, these: "I am convinced of the
necessity of organizing pleasure as well as religion in order to sustain
Christian morality."

"The chief comfort in life is babies."

"Politics and philanthropy are a grind; only when one is at the post of
duty and knows it, there is a sensation of being lifted and lifting (_et
teneo et teneor_) which sometimes comes gradually over one. Detail is
grinding, the whole inspiring. God's kings and priests must drudge in
seedy clothes before they can wear the purple."

"From the deep human heart to the infinite heart there is a line along
which will pass the real cry and the sympathetic answer--a double flash
from the moral magnetism that fills the universe. Its conditions are not
found in theological belief, but in the spirit of a little child. We can
no more understand our human brother than our Father in heaven without
bringing faith--the evidence of things unseen, the substance of things
hoped for--to our aid."

"All progress of strong hearts is by action and reaction. Human life is
too weak to be an incessant eagle flight toward the Sun of
Righteousness. Wings will be sometimes folded because they are wings....
The earthly struggle must be enduring--that is all. There must be no
surrenders; we can't expect much of victory here."

"The longer I live, the less I think and fear about what the world calls
success; the more I tremble for true success, for the purity and
sanctity of the soul, which is as a temple."

"Doing what can't be done is the glory of living."

"What are Christians put into the world for but to do the impossible in
the strength of God?"

In the contemplation of such a spirit we rest for a little from the
turmoils of politics, the mixture of motives, the half-successes. Here
is what glorified the whole business,--the development of souls like
this; and in such is the promise of the future. Fitly to Armstrong
belongs what Matthew Arnold has written of his father, a kindred soul:--

Servants of God!--or sons
Shall I not call you? because
Not as servants ye knew
Your Father's innermost mind,
His, who unwillingly sees
One of his little ones lost--
Yours is the praise, if mankind
Hath not as yet in its march
Fainted, and fallen, and died!

See! In the rocks of the world
Marches the host of mankind
A feeble, wavering line.
Where are t