“Yes,” I said, “all that is true and good; it is the exclusive claim and not the inclusive which one regrets.  It is the voice which says, ’Accept my exact faith, or you have no part in the inheritance,’ which is wrong.  The real voice of religion is that which says, ’You are my brother and my sister, though you know it not.’  And if one says, ’We are all at fault, we are all far from the truth, but we live as best we can, looking for the larger hope and for the dawn of love,’ that is the secret.  The sacrament of God is offered and eaten at many a social meal, and the Spirit of Love finds utterance in quiet words from smiling lips.  One cannot teach by harsh precept, only by desirable example; and the worst of the correct profession of religion is that it is often little more than taking out a licence to disapprove.”

“Yes,” said Amroth, “you are very near a great truth.  The mistake we make is like the mistake so often made on earth in matters of human government—­the opposing of the individual to the State, as if the State were something above and different to the individual—­like the old thought of the Spirit moving on the face of the waters.  The individual is the State; and it is the same with the soul and God.  God is not above the soul, seeing and judging, apart in isolation.  The Spirit of God is the spirit of humanity, the spirit of admiration, the spirit of love.  It matters little what the soul admires and loves, whether it be a flower or a mountain, a face or a cause, a gem or a doctrine.  It is that wonderful power that the current of the soul has of setting towards something that is beautiful:  the need to admire, to worship, to love.  A regiment of soldiers in the street, a procession of priests to a sanctuary, a march of disordered women clamouring for their rights—­if the idea thrills you, if it uplifts you, it matters nothing whether other people dislike or despise or deride it—­it is the voice of God for you.  We must advance from what is merely brilliant to what is true; and though in the single life many a man seems to halt at a certain point, to have tied up his little packet of admirations once and for all, there are other lives where he will pass on to further loves, his passion growing more intense and pure.  We are not limited by our circle, by our generation, by our age; and the things which youthful spirits are divining and proclaiming as great and wonderful discoveries, are often being practised and done by silent and humble souls.  It is not the concise or impressive statement of a truth that matters, it is the intensity of the inner impulse towards what is high and true which differentiates.  The more we live by that, the less are we inclined to argue and dispute about it.  The base, the impure desire is only the imperfect desire; if it is gratified, it reveals its imperfections, and the soul knows that not there can it stay; but it must have faced and tested everything.  If the soul, out of timidity and conventionality, says