is the only thing in the world worth caring for, the thing before
which every ambition of man is folly, and all lower achievement
vain.
Those only who make this quest the supreme desire and passion of
their lives can ever begin to hope to reach it. If, therefore, it
has seemed up to this point as if all depended on passivity, let
me now assert, with conviction more intense, that all depends on
activity. A religion of effortless adoration may be a religion
for an angel, but never for a man. No in the contemplative, but
in the active, lies true hope; not in rapture, but in reality, lies
true life; not in the realm of ideals, but among tangible things,
is man's sanctification wrought. Resolution, effort, pain,
self-crucifixion, agony--all the things already dismissed as
futile in themselves, must now be restored to office, and a tenfold
responsibility laid upon them. For what is their office? Nothing
less than to move the vast inertia of the soul, and place it, and
keep it where the spiritual forces will act upon it. It is to rally
the forces of the will, and keep the surface of the mirror bright
and ever in position. It is to uncover the face which is to look
at Christ, and draw down the veil when unhallowed sights are near.
You have, perhaps, gone with an astronomer to watch him photograph
the spectrum of a star. As you enter the dark vault of the
observatory you saw him being by lighting a candle. To see the
star with? No; but to adjust the instrument to see the star with.
It was the star that was going to take the photograph; it was,
also, the astronomer. For a long time he worked in the dimness,
screwing tubes and polishing lenses and adjusting reflectors, and
only after much labor the finely focused instrument was brought
to bear. Then he blew out the light, and left the start to do its
work upon the plate alone.
The day's task for the Christian is to bring his instrument to bear.
Having done that he may blow out his candle. All the evidences of
Christianity which have brought him there, all aids to Faith, all
acts of worship, all the leverages of the Church, all Prayer and
Meditation, all girding of the Will--these lesser processes, these
candle-light activities for that supreme hour, may be set aside.
But, remember, it is but for an hour. The wise man will be he who
quickest lights his candle; the wisest he who never lets it out.
Tomorrow, the next moment, he, a poor, darkened, blurred soul, may
need it again to focus the Image better, to take a mote off the
lens, to clear the mirror from a breath with which the world has
dulled it.
No readjustment is ever required on behalf of the Star. That is
one great fixed point in this shifting universe. But THE WORLD
MOVES. And each day, each hour, demands a further motion and
readjustment for the soul. A telescope in an observatory follows
a star by clockwork, but the clockwork of the soul is called THE
WILL. Hence, while the soul in passivity reflects the Image of
the Lord, the Will in intense activity holds the mirror in position
lest the drifting motion of the world bear it beyond the line of
vision. To "follow Christ" is largely to keep the soul in such
position as will allow for the motion of the earth. And this
calculated counteracting of the movements of the world, this holding
of the mirror exactly opposite to the Mirrored, this steadying of
the faculties unerringly through cloud and earthquake, fire and
sword, is the stupendous co-operating labor of the Will. It is
all man's work. It is all Christ's work. In practice it is both;
in theory it is both. But the wise man will say in practice, "It
depends upon myself."
In the Gallerie des Beaux Arts in Paris there stands a famous
statue. It was the last work of a great genius, who, like many a
genius, was very poor and lived in a garret, which served as a studio
and sleeping-room alike. When the statue was all but finished, one
midnight a sudden frost fell upon Paris. The sculptor lay awake
in the fireless room and thought of the still moist clay, thought
how the water would freeze in the pores and destroy in an hour the
dream of his life. So the old man rose from his couch and heaped
the bed-clothes reverently round his work. In the morning when the
neighbors entered the room the sculptor was dead, but the statue
was saved!
The Image of Christ that is forming within us--that is life's one
charge. Let every project stand aside for that. The spirit of
God who brooded upon the waters thousands of years ago, is busy
now creating men, within these commonplace lives of ours, in the
image of God. "Till Christ be formed," no man's work is finished,
no religion crowned, no life has fulfilled its end. Is the infinite
task begun? When, how, are we to be different? Time cannot
change men. Death cannot change men. Christ can. Wherefore PUT
ON CHRIST.
Dealing With Doubt.
There is a subject which I think workers amongst young men cannot
afford to keep out of sight--I mean the subject of "Doubt." We are
forced to face that subject. We have no choice. I would rather
let it alone; but every day of my life I meet men who doubt, and I
am quite sure that most Christian workers among men have innumerable
interviews every year with men who raise skeptical difficulties
about religion.
Now it becomes a matter of great practical importance that we should
know how to deal wisely with these. Upon the whole, I think these
are the best men in the country. I speak of my own country. I speak
of the universities with which I am familiar, and I say that they
men who are perplexed,--the men who come to you with serious and
honest difficulties,--are the best men. They are men of intellectual
honesty, and cannot allow themselves to be put to rest by words,
or phrases, or traditions, or theologies, but who must get to the
bottom of things for themselves. And if I am not mistaken,