we pray unto him?[1]

[Footnote 1: Job, chap. XXI.]

In contrast, in the religious experience man feels himself to
be a part of a world scheme in which justice and righteousness
are assured by an incontestable and invulnerable power;
"God's in his Heaven; all's right with the world." Despite
the grounds he has for doubt, Job robustly avers: "Though
he slay me, yet will I trust in him." Calamities are but
temporary; God will bring all things to a beautiful fruition.

Or a man may feel that the evils he or others experience
here are not real evils, that, seen _sub specie oeternitatis_, they
would cease to be regarded as such. He may feel that God
moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform, that
"somehow good may come of ill." He may feel, as does the
Christian believer, that all the evils and pains unjustly
experienced in this world will be adjusted in the next. Whatever
be my privations from earthly good, "in my Father's house
are many mansions." Immortality is, indeed, the religious
man's faith in a second chance. The surety of a world to
come, in which the blessed shall live in eternal bliss, is a
compensation and a redress for the ills and frustrations of life in
this world. Whatever be the seeming ills or injustices of life,
there is eventual retribution, both to the just and the unjust.
Once more to quote Emerson:

And yet the compensations of calamity are made apparent to the
understanding also, after long intervals of time. A fever, a mutilation,
a cruel disappointment, a loss of wealth, a loss of friends, seems
at the moment unpaid loss, and unpayable. But the sure years
reveal the deep remedial force that underlies all facts. The death
of a dear friend, wife, brother, lover, which seemed nothing but
privation, somewhat later assumes the aspect of a guide or genius; for
it commonly operates revolutions in our way of life, terminates an
epoch of infancy or of youth which was waiting to be closed, breaks
up a wonted occupation, or a household, or style of living, and
allows the formation of new ones more friendly to the growth of
character. It permits or constrains the formation of new acquaintances,
and the reception of new influences that prove of the first
importance to the next years; and the man or woman who would
have remained a sunny garden flower, with no room for its roots and
too much sunshine for its head, by the falling of the walls and the
neglect of the gardener, is made the banian of the