e amount of
Divine thought revealed to him therein. . . .

_Glaucus_. 1855.

The Masses. August 4.

Though permitted evils should not avenge themselves by any political
retribution, yet avenge themselves, if unredressed, they surely will.
They affect masses too large, interests too serious, not to make
themselves bitterly felt some day. . . . We may choose to look on the
masses in the gross as objects for statistics--and of course, where
possible, for profits. There is One above who knows every thirst, and
ache, and sorrow, and temptation of each slattern, and gin-drinker, and
street-boy. The day will come when He will require an account of these
neglects of ours--not in the gross.

_Miscellanies_. 1851.

We sit in a cloud, and sing like pictured angels,
And say the world runs smooth--while right below
Welters the black, fermenting heap of life
On which our State is built.

_Saint's Tragedy_, Act ii. Scene v.

Love and Knowledge. August 5.

He who has never loved, what does he know?

_MS._

Siccum Lumen. August 6.

How shall I get true knowledge? Knowledge which will be really useful,
really worth knowing. Knowledge which I shall know accurately and
practically too, so that I can use it in daily life, for myself and
others? Knowledge too, which shall be clear knowledge, not warped or
coloured by my own fancies, passions, prejudices, but pure and calm and
sound; Siccum Lumen, "Dry Light," as the greatest of philosophers called
it of old.

To all such who long for light, that by the light they may live, God
answers through His only begotten Son: "Ask and ye shall receive, seek
and ye shall find."

_Westminster Sermons_. 1873.

This World. August 7.

What should the external world be to those who truly love, but the garden
in which they are placed, not so much for sustenance or enjoyment of
themselves and each other, as to dress it and to keep it--_it_ to be
their subject-matter, not they its tools! In this spirit let us pray
"Thy kingdom come."

_MS._ 1842.

The Life of the Spirit. August 8.

The old fairy superstition, the old legends and ballads, the old
chronicles of feudal war and chivalry, the earlier moralities and
mysteries--these fed Shakespeare's youth. Why should they not feed our
children's? That inborn delight of the young in all that is marvellous
and fantastic--has that a merely evil root? No, surely! it is a most
pure part of their