rowd, in this sense of isolation from our fellows, if
never before, do we feel, with sickness of heart, that we are alone.
There is a solitude of sickness,--the solitude of the watcher or of the
patient,--a solitude to which, at times, duty and Providence call us
all. There are, in brief, countless circumstances of life when we shall
realize that we are indeed alone, and sad enough will be that solitude
if we have no inner resource,--no Celestial companionship;--if we cannot
say and feel as we say it, that we are not alone, for the Father is with
us.

But, while I cannot specify all these forms of solitude, let me dwell
upon two or three of the experiences of life in which we are peculiarly
alone.

First, then, I would say, that we must be alone in the pursuit of Truth
and the work of Duty. Others may aid me in these, but I must decide and
act for myself. I must believe for myself. I must do right for myself;
or if I do wrong, it is also for myself, and in myself I realize the
retribution. By my own sense of right and wrong-by my own standard of
truth and falsehood-I must stand or fall. There is in this world
nothing so great and solemn as the struggles of the solitary soul in its
researches after the truth,--in its endeavors to obey the right. We may
be indifferent to these vital questions,--it is to be feared that many
are; we may glide along in the suppleness of habit, and the ease
of conventionalism; we may never trouble ourselves with any pungent
scruples; we may never pursue the task of introspection, or bring to
bear upon the fibres of motive and desire within us the intense focus
of God's moral law; we may never vex our souls with tests of faith, but
rest contented with the common or hereditary standard;--but he who will
be serious in the work of spiritual discipline, who will act from a
vital law of duty, must endure struggles and conflicts than which, I
repeat, there is nothing more solemn under the sun. He will often find
himself opposed to the general current of human faith and action. His
position will be singular. His principle will be tried. Interest will
direct him another way; his strictness will be ridiculed, his motives
questioned, his sincerity misunderstood and aspersed. Alone must he
endure all this,--along cling to the majestic ideal of right as it rises
to his own soul. And thus he must wage a bitter conflict with fear and
with seduction,--with sophistries of the heart, and reluctance of the
wi