ee
again the mist, the ark, the cup, the gleaming drop, and recalling the
sight of the world below, the earth and all its fulness, you say to
yourself,--

"These are thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Almighty, thine this universal frame,
Thus wondrous fair; Thyself how wondrous then!
Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens."

And finding the burden too heavy even for these glorious lines, you
take refuge in the Psalms--

"Praise ye the Lord.
Praise ye the Lord from the heavens: praise him in the heights.
Praise him in the firmament of his power.
Praise ye him, all his angels: praise ye him, all his hosts.
Praise ye him, sun and moon: praise him, all ye stars of light.
Praise the Lord from the earth, ye dragons, and all deeps;
Fire and hail; snow and vapour; stormy wind fulfilling his word:
Mountains, and all hills; fruitful trees, and all cedars;
Beasts, and all cattle; creeping things, and flying fowl:
Kings of the earth, and all people; princes and all judges of the
earth:
Both young men and maidens; old men and children:
Let them praise the name of the Lord:
For his name alone is excellent; his glory is above the earth and
heaven.
Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord.
Bless the Lord, O my soul!"

I need hardly draw the moral of this, our somewhat _fancical_
exercitation and exegesis. You can all make it out, such as it is. It
is the toil, and the joy, and the victory in the search of truth; not
the taking on trust, or learning by rote, not by heart, what other men
count or call true; but the vital appropriation, the assimilation of
truth to ourselves, and of ourselves to truth. All truth is of value,
but one truth differs from another in weight and in brightness, in
worth; and you need not me to tell you that spiritual and eternal
truth, the truth as it is in Jesus, is the best. And don't think that
your own hand has gotten you the victory, and that you had no unseen,
and it may be unfelt and unacknowledged hand guiding you up the hill.
Unless the Lord had been at and on your side, all your labour would
have been in vain, and worse. No two things are more inscrutable or
less uncertain than man's spontaneity and man's helplessness,--Freedom
and Grace as the two poles. It is His doing that you are led to the
right hill and the right road, for there are other Tintocks, with
other kists, and other drops