in it—­nothing but ambition.  It is simply selfishness that would be proud if it could.  Fame is the applause of the many, and the judgment of the many is foolish; therefore the greater the fame, the more is the foolishness that swells it, and the worse is the foolishness that longs after it.  Aspiration is the sole escape from ambition.  He who aspires—­that is, does his endeavour to rise above himself—­neither lusts to be higher than his neighbour, nor seeks to mount in his opinion.  What light there is in him shines the more that he does nothing to be seen of men.  He stands in the mist between the gulf and the glory, and looks upward.  He loves not his own soul, but longs to be clean.

    Out of the gulf into the glory,
      Father, my soul cries out to be lifted. 
    Dark is the woof of my dismal story,
      Thorough thy sun-warp stormily drifted!—­
    Out of the gulf into the glory,
    Lift me, and save my story.

    I have done many things merely shameful;
      I am a man ashamed, my father! 
    My life is ashamed and broken and blameful—­
      The broken and blameful, oh, cleanse and gather! 
    Heartily shame me, Lord, of the shameful! 
    To my judge I flee with my blameful.

    Saviour, at peace in thy perfect purity,
      Think what it is, not to be pure! 
    Strong in thy love’s essential security,
      Think upon those who are never secure. 
    Full fill my soul with the light of thy purity;
    Fold me in love’s security.

    O Father, O Brother, my heart is sore aching
      Help it to ache as much as is needful;
    Is it you cleansing me, mending, remaking,
      Dear potter-hands, so tender and heedful? 
    Sick of my past, of my own self aching—­
    Hurt on, dear hands, with your making.

    Proud of the form thou hadst given thy vessel,
      Proud of myself, I forgot my donor;
    Down in the dust I began to nestle,
      Poured thee no wine, and drank deep of dishonour! 
    Lord, thou hast broken, thou mendest thy vessel! 
    In the dust of thy glory I nestle.

O Lord, the earnest expectation of thy creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God.

THE HOPE OF THE UNIVERSE.

For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God.—­Romans viii. 19.

Let us try, through these words, to get at the idea in St Paul’s mind for which they stand, and have so long stood.  It can be no worthless idea they represent—­no mere platitude, which a man, failing to understand it at once, may without loss leave behind him.  The words mean something which Paul believes vitally associated with the life and death of his Master.  He had seen Jesus with his bodily eyes, I think, but he had not seen him with those alone; he had seen and saw him with the real eyes, the eyes that do not see except they understand; and the sight of him had uplifted his whole nature—­first his pure will for righteousness, and then his hoping imagination; and out of these, in the knowledge of Jesus, he spoke.