n_--epsilon,
pi, alpha, theta, epsilon, nu]

This letter may appear cold to you. It is not. I feel more deeply
than I write. . . . Some day, if {125} you care to hear, I will tell
you something about my own imperfect life. I can't write it down.
Later the day will dawn. But God sends the darkness that we may learn
to trust Him, I have never yet found Him to fail. We cannot trust Him
too much.

_To the mother of a friend, after having been present at his funeral._

Cambridge: April 22, 1900.

I feel I must write and tell you how grateful I am to you for your
kindness in allowing me to be present on Thursday. Whenever I think of
your son who has passed away, that text comes into my mind: 'Blessed
are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.' He was pure in heart,
and I cannot think of him as lifeless, but as actually seeing
God. . . . I am thankful to have been allowed to be his friend. I
shall never forget him; his life remains a source of strength and
inspiration to me. It comforts me now to know that he is sinking
deeper and deeper into the peace of God, which passeth all
understanding. You were talking to me about W----; I could not say all
that I wished to say. . . . I am very, very slow to suggest ordination
to a man. I realise the responsibility of doing so, but there is no
man whom I desire to see ordained more than W----; he has been to me
more help than I can possibly say. I dare not try to tell you all that
he has done for me, because you would think I was exaggerating. I
cannot help feeling that, if he helps me so much, he might help others
also, and that, if he were ordained, {126} he would have singular
opportunities for rendering such help. But I do not press him in the
matter, because I might do wrong; but I pray again and again that, if
God wishes him to be ordained, He will make His purpose clear, and I am
quite sure that He will not leave us in the dark.

_To C. T. W._

Cambridge: July 1900.

I was delighted to read in the paper yesterday of your election to a
fellowship. . . . The life will be a harder one than that of an
ordinary parish clergyman; it will be easier to lose sight of ideals.
But the importance of the work is in proportion to its difficulty.
Blessed is the man who finds his work, and does it; and you will be
blessed. . . .

You should read St. Patrick's 'Confession,' a genuine work of my
distinguished countryman. It is full of humility and zeal.