But with God, when one once begins to draw near to Him, one need have no such poignant regrets or overshadowing memories; one may say to Him in one’s heart, as simply as a child, that He knows what one has been and is, what one might have been and what one desires to be; and one may cast oneself at His feet in the overwhelming hope that He will make of oneself what He would have one to be.

In the parable of the Prodigal Son, it is not the poor wretch himself, whose miserable motive for returning is plainly indicated—­ that instead of pining in cold and hunger he may be warmed and clothed—­who is the hero of the story; still less is it the hard and virtuous elder son.  The hero of the tale is the patient, tolerant, loving father, who had acted, as a censorious critic might say, foolishly and culpably, in supplying the dissolute boy with resources, and taking him back without a word of just reproach.  A sad lack of moral discipline, no doubt!  If he had kept the boy in fear and godliness, if he had tied him down to honest work, the disaster need never have happened.  Yet the old man, who went so often at sundown, we may think, to the crest of the hill, from which he could see the long road winding over the plain to the far-off city, the road by which he had seen his son depart, light-heartedly and full of fierce joyful impulses, and along which he was to see the dejected figure, so familiar, so sadly marred, stumbling home—­he is the master-spirit of the sweet and comforting scene.  His heart is full of utter gladness, for the lost is found.  He smiles upon the servants; he bids the household rejoice; he can hardly, in his simple joy of heart, believe that the froward elder brother is vexed and displeased; and his words of entreaty that the brother, too, will enter into the spirit of the hour, are some of the most pathetic and beautiful ever framed in human speech:  “Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine; it was meet that we should make merry, and be glad:  for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again, and was lost, and is found.”

And this is, after all, the way in which God deals with us.  He gives us our portion to spend as we choose; He holds nothing back; and when we have wasted it and brought misery upon ourselves, and return to Him, even for the worst of reasons, He has not a word of rebuke or caution; He is simply and utterly filled with joy and love.  There are a thousand texts that would discourage us, would bid us believe that God deals hardly with us, but it is men that deal hardly with us, it is we that deal hardly with ourselves.  This story, which is surely the most beautiful story in the world, gives us the deliberate thought of the Saviour, the essence of His teaching; and we may fling aside the bitter warnings of jealous minds, and cast ourselves upon the supreme hope that, if only we will return, we are dealt with even more joyfully than if we had never wandered at all.