not with us.  Draw nearer, Sun of Righteousness, and make the trees bourgeon, and the flowers blossom, and the voices grow mellow and glad, so that all shall join in praising Thee, and find thereby that harmony is better than unison.  Let it be summer, O Lord, if it ever may be summer in this court of the Gentiles.  But Thou hast told us that Thy kingdom cometh within us, and so Thy joy must come within us too.  Draw nigh then, Lord, to those to whom Thou wilt draw nigh; and others beholding their welfare will seek to share therein too, and seeing their good works will glorify their Father in heaven.”

So I walked home, hoping in my Saviour, and wondering to think how pleasant I had found it to be His poor servant to this people.  Already the doubts which had filled my mind on that first evening of gloom, doubts as to whether I had any right to the priest’s office, had utterly vanished, slain by the effort to perform the priest’s duty.  I never thought about the matter now.—­And how can doubt ever be fully met but by action?  Try your theory; try your hypothesis; or if it is not worth trying, give it up, pull it down.  And I hoped that if ever a cloud should come over me again, however dark and dismal it might be, I might be able, notwithstanding, to rejoice that the sun was shining on others though not on me, and to say with all my heart to my Father in heaven, “Thy will be done.”

When I reached my own study, I sat down by a blazing fire, and poured myself out a glass of wine; for I had to go out again to see some of my poor friends, and wanted some luncheon first.—­It is a great thing to have the greetings of the universe presented in fire and food.  Let me, if I may, be ever welcomed to my room in winter by a glowing hearth, in summer by a vase of flowers; if I may not, let me then think how nice they would be, and bury myself in my work.  I do not think that the road to contentment lies in despising what we have not got.  Let us acknowledge all good, all delight that the world holds, and be content without it.  But this we can never be except by possessing the one thing, without which I do not merely say no man ought to be content, but no man can be content—­the Spirit of the Father.

If any young people read my little chronicle, will they not be inclined to say, “The vicar has already given us in this chapter hardly anything but a long sermon; and it is too bad of him to go on preaching in his study after we saw him safe out of the pulpit”?  Ah, well! just one word, and I drop the preaching for a while.  My word is this:  I may speak long-windedly, and even inconsiderately as regards my young readers; what I say may fail utterly to convey what I mean; I may be actually stupid sometimes, and not have a suspicion of it; but what I mean is true; and if you do not know it to be true yet, some of you at least suspect it to be true, and some of you hope it is true; and when you all see it as I mean it and as you can take it, you will rejoice with a