I am not.  But I am convinced that no mere intellectual opinion is a sin.  If Mr. Gear is in darkness it is because he neglects some known if not some recognized duty.  My work is not to convince him of the error of his opinions.  I probably never could do that.  And his opinions are not of much consequence.  My work is to find out what known duty he is neglecting, and press it home upon his conscience.  And so far I have not discovered what it is.  He is one of the most conscientious men I ever knew.  Yet something is wanting in Mr. Gear.  I believe he half thinks so himself.  He is mentally restless and uneasy.  He seems to doubt his own doubts, and to want discussion that he may strengthen himself in his own unbelief.  But still I make no progress.  Since that first night I have got no farther into his heart.

“John,” said Jennie, “I wish you would call and see Mr. Gear.  He has not been in church for six or eight weeks.”

“It is no use,” said I, “I have asked him once or twice, and he always says that he is not coming till we get a Pastor.  He says he does not care to hear candidates; he does not consider himself a good judge of the article.  ‘Hardcap,’ says he is a ministerial expert, but I am not.”

“How is he getting on?” said Jennie.

“To tell the truth, Jennie, I don’t know,” I replied.  “I don’t see that he gets on at all.  He seems to be just where he was.”

Jennie drew a long sigh.

“Patience, Jennie, patience,” said I, “time works wonders.”

“No, John,” said Jennie, “time never works.  It eats, and undermines, and rots, and rusts, and destroys.  But it never works.  It only gives us an opportunity to work.”

Perhaps Jennie is right.  Perhaps we expect time to work for us, when time is only given us that we may work.

“Besides,” said Jennie, “there is that volume of Theodore Parker’s sermons which you borrowed of him the other day, you have never returned it.”

No!  And I had never read it.  Our theme in Bible class had touched on prayer.  After the class Mr. Gear had tried to get me into a theological discussion about prayer.  I had been silent as to my own views, but had asked him for his.  And he had handed me this volume in reply.  It contained a sermon by Theodore Parker on the subject which Mr. Gear said expressed his own views exactly.  Jennie’s remark brought this volume to mind, I took it down from the shelf, opened to the sermon, and read it aloud to Jennie.

We both agreed that it was a good sermon, or rather, to speak more accurately, a sermon in which there was good.  It is true that in it Mr. Parker inveighed against the orthodox philosophy of prayer; he denied that God could really be influenced or his plans changed.  But on the duty of prayer he vehemently insisted.  Mere philanthropy and humanity, he said, are not religion.  There must also be piety.  The soul must live in the divine presence; must inhale the Spirit of God; must utter its contrition, its weaknesses, its wants, and its thanks-givings to its Heavenly Father.