the great mystery of death.
Why this or another conception of God should produce such a profound
result upon any one, I do not know, except that in some obscure way it
connects the individual with the divine plan, and does not leave him
outside in despair and loneliness. However that may be, it will be
conceded that a religious conception of some kind does much toward
justifying life, toward making it strong and livable, and so has
directly to do with certain important problems of illness and health.
The most practical medical man will admit that any illness is made
lighter and more likely to recover in the presence of hope and serenity
in the mind of the patient.

Naturally the great bulk of medical practice calls for no handling other
than that of the straight medical sort. A man comes in with a crushed
finger, a girl with anaemia--the way is clear. It is only in deeper, more
intricate departments of medicine that we altogether fail. The
bacteriologist and the pathologist have no use for mental treatment, in
their departments. But when we come to the case of the nervously
broken-down school teacher, or the worn-out telegrapher, that is another
matter. Years may elapse before work can be resumed--years of dependence
and anxiety. Here, a new view of life is often more useful than drugs, a
view that accepts the situation reasonably after a while, that does not
grope blindly and impatiently for a cure, but finds in life an
inspiration that makes it good in spite of necessary suffering and
limitations. Often enough we cannot promise a cure, but we must be
prepared to give something better.

A great deal of the fatigue and unhappiness of the world is due to the
fact that we do not go deep enough in our justification for work or
play, or for any experience, happy or sad. There is a good deal of a
void after we have said, "Art for art's sake," or "Play for the joy of
playing," or even after we have said, "I am working for the sake of my
family, or for some one who needs my help." That is not enough; and
whether we realize it or not, the lack of deeper justification is at the
bottom of a restlessness and uncertainty which we might not be willing
to acknowledge, but which nevertheless is very real.

I am not satisfied when some moralist says, "Be good and you will be
happy." The kind of happiness that comes from a perfunctory goodness is
a thing which I cannot understand, and which I certainly do not want. If
I work and pla