noble impulses they are following the will of their Maker; but that in yielding to cruel, sensual, low impulses they are acting contrary to the will of the Creator.  And this intuition is one which many of us do not doubt, though it is a principle, which cannot be scientifically proved.  Indeed, it is incontestable that, though we believe the will of God to be on the side of what is good, yet He puts many obstacles, or permits them to be put, in the, way of the man who desires to act rightly.

The only way, I believe, in this last region, in which we can hope to improve, to win victories, is the way of a quiet and sincere submission.  It is easy to submit to the Will of God when it sends us joy and peace, when it makes us courageous, high-hearted, and just.  The difficulty is to acquiesce when He sends us adversity, ill-health, suffering; when He permits us to sin, or if that is a faithless phrase, does not grant us strength to resist.  But we must try to be patient, we must try to interpret the value of suffering, the meaning of failure, the significance of shame.  Perhaps it may be urged that this too is a temptation of egotism in another guise, and that we grow thus to conceive of ourselves as filling too large a space in the mind of God.  But unless we do this, we can only conceive of ourselves as the victims of God’s inattention or neglect, which is a wholly despairing thought.

In one sense we must be egotistic, if self-knowledge is egotism.  We must try to take the measure of our faculties, and we must try to use them.  But while we must wisely humiliate ourselves before the majesty of God, the vast and profound scheme of the Universe, we must at the same time believe that we have our place and our work; that God indeed purposely set us where we find ourselves; and among the complicated difficulties of sense, of temptation, of unhappiness, of failure, we must try to fix our eyes humbly and faithfully upon the best, and seek to be worthy of it.  We must try not to be self-sufficient, but to be humble and yet diligent.

I do not think that we practise this simple resignation often enough; it is astonishing how the act of placing our own will as far as possible in unison with the Will of God restores our tranquillity.

It was only a short time ago that I was walking alone among fields and villages.  It was one of those languid days of early spring, when the frame and the mind alike seem unstrung and listless.  The orchards were white with flower, and the hedges were breaking into fresh green.  I had just returned to my work after a brief and delightful holiday, and was overshadowed with the vague depression that the resumption of work tends to bring to anxious minds.  I entered a little ancient church that stood open; it was full of sunlight, and had been tenderly decked with an abundance of spring flowers.  If I had been glad at heart it would have seemed a sweet place, full of peace and beautiful mysteries.  But it had no voice, no message for me.  I was overshadowed too by a sad anxiety about one whom I loved, who was acting perversely and unworthily.  There came into my mind a sudden gracious thought to commit myself to the heart of God, not to disguise my weakness and anxiety, not to ask that the load should be lightened, but that I might endure His will to the uttermost.