tless inability to
let well alone. It was not in harshness or in ill-nature that he
worried me so much; on the contrary, it was all part of his too-
anxious love. He was in a hurry to see me become a shining light,
everything that he had himself desired to be, yet with none of
his shortcomings.

It was about this time that he harrowed my whole soul into
painful agitation by a phrase that he let fall, without, I
believe, attaching any particular importance to it at the time.
He was occupied, as he so often was, in polishing and burnishing
my faith, and he was led to speak of the day when I should ascend
the pulpit to preach my first sermon. 'Oh! if I may be there, out
of sight, and hear the gospel message proclaimed from your lips,
then I shall say, "My poor work is done. Oh! Lord Jesus, receive
my spirit".' I cannot express the dismay which this aspiration
gave me, the horror with which I anticipated such a nunc
dimittis. I felt like a small and solitary bird, caught and hung
out hopelessly and endlessly in a great glittering cage. The
clearness of the personal image affected me as all the texts and
prayers and predictions had failed to do. I saw myself imprisoned
for ever in the religious system which had caught me and would
whirl my helpless spirit as in the concentric wheels of my
nightly vision. I did not struggle against it, because I believed
that it was inevitable, and that there was no other way of making
peace with the terrible and ever-watchful 'God who is a jealous
God'. But I looked forward to my fate without zeal and without
exhilaration, and the fear of the Lord altogether swallowed up
and cancelled any notion of the love of Him.

I should do myself an injustice, however, if I described my
attitude to faith at this time as wanting in candour. I did very
earnestly desire to follow where my Father led. That passion for
imitation, which I have already discussed, was strongly developed
at this time, and it induced me to repeat the language of pious
books in godly ejaculations which greatly edified my grown-up
companions, and were, so far as I can judge, perfectly sincere. I
wished extremely to be good and holy, and I had no doubt in my
mind of the absolute infallibility of my Father as a guide in
heavenly things. But I am perfectly sure that there never was a
moment in which my heart truly responded, with native ardour, to
the words which flowed so readily, in such a stream of unction,
from my anointed li