Chapter V: Two Appreciations (3)

One thing you must learn to do. Whatever you leave undone you must not leave this undone. Your work will be stunted and half developed unless you {97} attend to it. You must force yourself to be alone and to pray. Do make a point of this. You may be eloquent and attractive in your life, but your real effectiveness depends on your communion with the eternal world. You will easily find excuses. Work is so pressing, and work is necessary. Other engagements take time. You are tired. You want to go to bed. You go to bed late and want to get up late. So simple prayer and devotion are crowded out. And yet, T----, the necessity is paramount, is inexorable. If you and I are ever to be of any good, if we are to be a blessing, not a curse, to those with whom we are connected, we must enter into ourselves, we must be alone with the only source of unselfishness. If we are of use to others, it will chiefly be because we are simple, pure, unselfish. If we are to be simple, pure, unselfish, it will not be by reading books or talking or working primarily, it will be by coming in continual contact with the ground of simplicity, purity, selfishness. Heaven is the possibility of fresh acts of self-sacrifice, of a fuller life of unselfishness. You are a man and a minister in so far as you are unselfish. You cannot learn unselfishness save from the one Source. Definite habits of real devotion--these we must make and keep to and renew and increase. Then we shall gradually find that we are less dependent on self--that even in the busiest scenes we dare not act on our own responsibility--that, be the act ever so small and trifling, when we are in difficulty we shall naturally, inevitably, spontaneously turn to that place whence help alone can come. But it is a wonderful help again and again to feel that we have been {98} alone with Him, that we are not working on our own responsibility, that He is the 'Living Will' that rises and flows 'through our deeds and makes them pure.'

_To D. D. R._

8 Alexandra Gardens, Ventnor: Jan. 2, 1894.

While holding as firmly and unreservedly to the belief that a revelation is a possibility that has actually been realised, I am becoming more aware of the partial and limited view which any single individual can have of the significance of such a revelation; and with this conviction comes a desire not to hinder by any words or prejudices of mine the education of one to whom I owe more than I at present know. Yet, as I believe that no individual life is beyond the wise ordering of a Divine economy, I am sure that he must have lessons to learn from me as well as I to learn from him. Hence I dare not refrain from suggesting to him--often in answer to questions that he puts to me--sides of truth which, as I believe, I have been allowed to apprehend. The knowledge of truth (in however small a degree) is a trust that we hold for the sake of others. What I fear for him and for you--for you even more than for him--is not that you will form wrong opinions on religious or ethical subjects, but that you will lack that moral earnestness that forces a man, whether he will or not, to look the facts of life in the face, that deadly earnestness that refuses to allow us to contemplate creeds as works of art, but forces us to ask whether these things be so. Life as a whole must be faced. What has induced men to {99} believe this and that tenet? Why have men craved for a knowledge of an unseen Being? Why have systems of priestcraft arisen? How is it that those who most revolt against such systems are slaves to other systems bearing different names, but in substance the same? Is there a Deliverer? Is there a unity beneath all this confusion? Can man know such a unity if there be one? Can such a unity be revealed? Has it been revealed? Why do men think it has been revealed if it has not? While I am slow to force upon those whom I most respect and love lessons which I believe that I have slowly learnt in a school in which perhaps they have not been, and never will be, educated, yet I am sure that I cannot be wrong in praying for them and in urging them to be increasingly earnest in the search for and the practice of truth. You are a man in so far as you live. You live in so far as you are self-sacrificing. You are self-sacrificing in so far as you unswervingly practise the truth you know and follow after that which you do not yet apprehend. And I am sure, if there be a unity beneath our lives, if there be One who is educating us when we are most wayward, we shall eventually be led by, it may be, very different paths to a single goal. Meanwhile each failure to be earnest, each relapse into sentimentality, unmanliness, morbidness, despair, unreality, laziness, passiveness, may itself be a discipline, making us utterly mistrust ourselves, whether at our worst or at our best, and forcing us to inquire whether there be any help elsewhere, any power that can sweep through our lives and force us to be human.

For this reason I would impress on you the {100} necessity of trying to think out your position, of asking yourself how you may be most human and best serve God (if, indeed, you believe that this is possible) and your generation. There are around you social forces making for good. Ought you to be--nay, can you be--isolated? Does isolation give greater strength? Does it enable you to do more or to be better? These questions are not merely suggested by me. They have already suggested themselves in one form or another to you. I am frightened of their not receiving the attention they merit.

_To T. H. M._

8 Alexandra Gardens, Ventnor: January 3, 1894.

The fact that you have not all the sympathy and manly help and advice that you could wish for from those around you will, I trust, force you to depend with simpler confidence upon the unchanging Ground of all human sympathy. You will, I hope, take all these experiences without grumbling as a real and necessary stage in your education; remembering that if you find yourself repining at the distressful circumstances in which you are placed, you may be dishonouring Him who has placed you where you are. I do not, of course, mean that such reflection will make you condone and excuse the lukewarmness of others, but you will grasp the truth that God uses even the sin of this world as an instrument in the education of His people, and that you yourself may have your character formed partly through the faults of others, for whom you are still bound to pray. {101} This great Christmas festival that is past must be a power to us in the year that is coming on. We must enter into and be penetrated by the Life that has been manifested. For it is life that you and I need. Our own puny individualistic life of morbid self-consciousness and sensibility must be transformed by the fuller Life in which all may have a share; and thus we shall come to think less of ourselves, our successes, our failures, what others think about us and what others ought to think about us--we shall forget all this because we shall share in the Universal Life, which penetrates through all and which makes men forget themselves and their ills, and be pure, simple, healthy, unselfish. And this life has been realised and men have seen it, and it is still with us to-day. In so far as we share in it we shall become natural, unaffected, human. Nay, more. Because the life there manifested is divine as well as human, we shall realise also with fuller force what it is to be a child of a Father who is in heaven. It is life, not a system, that we need. It is life which is given us when we are adopted as sons; it is life that we receive when the Source of all life gives us Himself to feed upon; it is life that Christ bestows upon us when we gradually realise our position as members of a society in which no man can live for himself alone. Life is life in so far as it is unselfish. May He who has called us and given to us all our privileges teach us to live out that which we know and believe!

{102}

_To F. S. H._

Cambridge: August 4, 1895.

Life will not be the same without having you up here. I am very dependent upon others, and I soon begin to be downcast if I have not some one to help or to be helped by. But happily He who takes away is the same as He who gives, and His great heart of affection understands our manifold and seemingly contradictory needs. Life would be intolerable if we had no one who knew us perfectly, not simply the outside part of our life, but that inside and apparently incommunicable part. Those who are least able to express themselves in words, or who (if they did express themselves) fear that they would be misunderstood, find in Him an unspeakable consolation. But I must not look at things from the individualistic standpoint. No problem can ever be solved until we have in some measure realised that the Life which flows through us is larger than our own individual life. We get morbid, and our reason becomes warped, when we think of our own future alone. Every obstacle in our path, every interruption to the course which we have planned for ourselves, every rough discipline, tells us that our life and future are not our own, that they are intimately connected with a larger life, a greater future. I have been thinking of those words--so like Jesus Christ to have uttered them--_me merimnesete_. We are always anxious about a set of circumstances which will soon be upon us--engagements which we tremble to meet. Jesus Christ tells us, _me merimnesete_. I believe that work in the {103} present world would be far more free and effective if we would obey the command. We cannot enter into life as it comes, because we are living in an imaginary future. The man of God lives in the present; he leaves the future to God, _me merimnesete_. If God has conducted us so far, He will not leave us. It is easy to talk, hard to act. I think we gain the power to act, we gain the calm peace of God, by compelling ourselves to remain at certain times in His presence. Habits of prayer are slowly formed, but when formed are hard to break. Talking may be a great snare when it takes the place of prayer--and how easily it does! It is easier to talk with a man than to pray for him--in many cases.

[Transcriber's note: The Greek phrases in the above paragraph were transliterated as follows: _me_--mu, eta; _merimnesete_--mu, epsilon, rho, iota, mu, nu, eta, sigma, eta, tau, epsilon]

_To F. S. H._

Clovelly: September 11, 1895.

I am reading 'The Newcomes': have you ever read it? I find it hard to appreciate Thackeray as much as some people do. Occasionally he says some very true things and shows that he is acquainted with human nature in its brighter and darker aspects. But, on the whole, the story of marriage and giving in marriage--selling your daughter for money or a title--the picture of young men who sow their wild oats and then repent and marry innocent ladies and live virtuously and die in the odour of sanctity--on the whole the story does not seem to correspond to the ideals which haunt me, even though I do not act up to them. Surely life is something utterly different from all this. Surely somewhere there is a picture of {104} human life, somewhere in the mind of God Himself, where the young man grows up without any harvest of wild oats, with clear and unselfish ideals, with a longing to make the world purer and diviner than he found it, a picture which is in some measure realised around us to-day. May God deliver us not only from vicious but from selfish thoughts! I believe Thackeray saw something of that picture, but he didn't draw it with the colours I could have wished. There is a solemn text in Ezekiel, which came in the lesson lately, 'The righteousness of the righteous shall not deliver him in the day of his transgression.' Past religious experiences are of little value without present righteousness.

_To his cousin G. F._

Clovelly, N. Devon: September 12, 1895.

I am in perhaps the quaintest and one of the loveliest villages in England, just doing nothing, and enjoying the simple life around me. You would like this village, with its one steep, narrow, picturesque street, the great sea far down below, the little stone pier jutting out and helping to form a small harbour. Then on either side of the village are woods reaching down to the cliffs--beautiful woods, where oaks, and in places heather, are glad to grow. St. Paul says in the lesson to-day that the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal. And one feels how true are his words--how the trees, woods, flowers fade and die; how the old sea wears slowly away the cliffs; how men and {105} their dwellings pass away; how all these things which are seen are temporal; and yet the beauty, the love, the joy, the purity, are more permanent than the particular manifestations of them are. The beauty which is manifested in the country around is eternal. The life which is seen in man has a future beyond this world.

As we enter in behind the veil, as we see that life and love which are expressing themselves in objects around us, we are already in the eternal, in that which endures.

It is not, as we are constantly thinking, the things that are _present_ which are temporal, and the things that are _future_ which are eternal. No; the things which are present have an eternal side to them--the unseen side.

The man who is a slave to the seen has least of the eternal about him: the man who despises not the seen, but who through the seen rises to the unseen, is partaking of eternal life. . . .

_To F. S. H._

Cambridge: October 23, 1895.

Let me congratulate you on the way you ran against Yale.[1] I was delighted to read of your 'romping' home!! . . . . It seems to me that every unfulfilled longing is no accidental part of life. The longing, in so far as it is genuinely human, is derived from Him in whose image man is made. When it is hard to see why it is not gratified, yet we {106} may confidently believe that this is part of our training. Is it not a noble work to enter into and, in some measure, bear the burdens of other men's lives, even if they have only imperfect sympathy with ours? May we not sometimes even learn more in this way--or at least learn different lessons--than if they were so similar to ourselves that they could at once understand us? I am afraid that you have a hard struggle before you. You must take care not to act upon first impressions, or impulse--not even if those impressions are favourable . . . your best 'pearls' must be used carefully.

[1] In the international athletic sports in U.S.A.

_To F. S. H. on his going to a curacy in Liverpool._

Cambridge: October 18, 1896.

In some respects I am glad to hear of your change of plans. I think you will be more in your element working in a poor part of a large town. . . . Our dean has just been preaching on the words 'One soweth, and another reapeth.' It is a help to realise the continuity of work. We enter into the work of many a man who has passed away, and who, while he worked, often despaired and thought that he was achieving nothing. No work is lost. The obscure and petty--these are relative terms. We use them, but we are told on the best authority that there is nothing secret which shall not be made manifest. The consciousness of the continuity and perpetuity of work quiets and calms us; we need not hurry over anything. When we have left off sowing, others will reap. God give us grace to work, for the night {107} cometh when no man can work. I am so sorry that I have not been able to come up and see you. But we are working in the same field, though it is too large across to see one another!

_To C. T. W._

St. Moritz: February 1898.

Two new toboggan runs have been opened: one is a Canadian run on soft snow without turns, short and sweet; the other is part of the Crista run, an ice run, which I suppose is quite the finest in the world, with splendid corners. When it is all made it will be about a mile in length. . . . In a noisy salon it is difficult to collect my scattered thoughts. Music and other atrocities are in full swing; and as I seldom use my brain now, the works are rusty. I wish you could see this country in winter. . . . A male rival of The Brook has appeared. He is impressed with the dust and dampness of the atmosphere--takes out trays to toboggan on into Italy--sprinkles water on his bedroom floor, because he considers a damp atmosphere conducive to sleep. So far we have not fallen out altogether with one another; some of us are on speaking terms. We only confidentially discuss whether so-and-so has come here for his mind. We have an archdeacon, a canon, a curate, two captains; one Plymouth-brother-like, who takes most gloomy views about the future of us, or most of us, including the parsons; the other very noisy, who attempted the Canadian toboggan run which is supposed to be safe for ladies and {108} children, and swears that he almost broke his neck. He had an upset and went head foremost into the snow, and, according to his own account, had to be dug out. If he had been a heavier man, I understand that he would have broken his neck. As two accidents have occurred there, it is not absolutely safe. . . . This place is a splendid pick-me-up. I am a reformed character--go to bed between 6 and 10.30 P.M. I was detected last night cheating at cards. But reformation to be effective requires time. Give up, I say, one bad habit at a time, and then tackle the next. I have given up early rising as being the most patent of my evil practices.

_To J. K._

Christ's College, Cambridge: August 19, 1898.

. . . . I am sure that we have need to learn not only in the school of health but also in the school of sickness. These breaks in life, and the sense of helplessness and weakness which attend them, are not simply periods to be 'got over'--to be made the best of till we can 'start again'--but they have a meaning which we can find, if we only look with the eye of faith. It is strange how, although God sees the whole way in which we ought to go, He leaves us in comparative darkness. We need, I am sure, _revelation_. 'Lord, open the young man's eyes, that he may see.' We shall take the wrong turning if we trust to our ordinary eyes; we shall find the path if we have the eye of faith to see what God is revealing. . . . And now at this time I need your prayers. I have--and {109} this, I need hardly say, is private--an invitation from the Bishop of ---- to come and lecture to theological students, whom he hopes to gather round him. Of course the scheme is rather in the air so far. He has not yet got the men. But he has an attractive power, and he might on a smaller scale do some such work as Vaughan used to do for men who did not go to definite theological colleges. Will you pray for me that I may go if I ought, and not go if I ought not, please?

Our wills are ours, we know not how,
Our wills are ours, to make them Thine.

_To J. L. D._

Cliff Dale, Cromer: October 3, 1898.

I do not belong and I never have belonged to any of the societies or guilds which you mention. I am a member of a Church. For that reason I dare not join any party. In fact, I cannot understand what 'parties' have to do with a Church. The Church by its very existence is a witness against parties and divisions. It will take me more than a lifetime to learn what it is to be a member of a Church; and no one can learn the lesson while he persists in clinging to a party. He must be a member not of a _part_ but of a _whole_. I therefore have no time to waste in joining a party.

I feel strongly that the various societies and guilds, based upon _party_ life, are eating away the very life of the Church. But I am slow in condemning my neighbour for conscientiously joining any such {110} society. He may only be able to see one side of truth, and it is better--far better--that he should see that side than nothing at all.

_To the mother of his godchild, Margaret Forbes._

April 12, 1899.

It is such a joy to me to be allowed to be her godparent, and I shall remember her often in my prayers. What a wonderful revelation she must be to you both--making the Heavenly Home a fuller reality than ever before! It is through earthly relationships that we realise the meaning of the unseen world. I like those lines of Faber:

All fathers learn their craft from Thee:
All loves are shadows cast
By the beautiful eternal hills
Of Thine unbeginning past.

_To his mother._

Rouxville, Orange Free State; July 8, 1899.

It is a strange and somewhat terrible study in religion--this Boer religion. It seems to have little or no connection with morality. Kruger seems to have amassed great wealth by doubtful means. A man comes to him and offers him, say, 8,000_l._ on condition that he may have the right to sell mineral waters. Mrs. Kruger comes in and counts the money; and if it is right, the concession is granted. Yet he is religious, very religious. A short time ago they wanted to fire shells into the low-lying clouds during a time {111} of drought. The clouds gather, but they will not break. Firing shells was found to have a good effect in bringing the rain. But Kruger stopped it because it was wrong to 'fire shells at the Almighty.' You would think that a little state like this might be an ideal one with its simple scattered population of farmers. But it is by no means so. Corruption and injustice are only too prevalent. At the start off they were unfortunate in their choice of President. The state was at war with the Basutos at the time when he was elected; and three months after he was made President he had to be deposed, because he was discovered selling arms to the Basutos.

The Dutch don't treat the natives as well as we do. Yet in some respects their laws are wise. A native may not live in the Free State without doing some definite work, unless he pays a tax of 5_s._ a month: this is, I think, a wise rule.

We had two very nice services last Sunday at the English church; I preach twice to-morrow.

_To C. T. W._

Durban; July 1899.

I write to congratulate you most heartily on your First Class. . . . I believe you will find in a year's time that whatever your work may be, contact with others--the necessity of influencing and guiding them--will be a tremendous help to you in your own life. . . .

Good man! I am delighted to think that you may see the Bishop of Durham. Prophets' eyes are {112} needed out here to catch the glory which must be slowly--so slowly--gaining on the shade. There is so much materialism, so little refinement and spirituality.

I had a grand voyage: only three people rescued from drowning before I got on board, and two stowaways after we left Madeira, and two or three days of rough weather. I enjoyed it. . . .

I had afternoon tea, or rather coffee, with Uncle Paul. He is a strong, fine old man. He was sitting puffing away at his large pipe. It was after a long day's work in the secret Volksraad. He was tired. 'It is hard work,' he said, 'for the head.' The State attorney, a young Christ's man, explained to him that 'we were both at the same school in England.' Kruger was eloquent on the subject of the Petition. He told me that some of the 21,000 had died three years before they signed it, and some had signed it owing to a bottle of whisky. 'And I want you to let that be known in England' (I know anything said to you will circulate--by experience). He said, did the subtle old man, that he wanted to do what was right and fair irrespective of nationality.

This Transvaal question is complicated. I thought it easy at first. But now I can see no moral grounds of any sort for a war with the Boers, in spite of their iniquities. There is a great deal to be said on their side, and much iniquity concealed under such specious phrases as 'Imperialism,' 'Supremacy of Great Britain in South Africa.' I cannot see that we have a real cause for war, but it is a big question with many sides. If England goes to war and wins, she {113} will have her work cut out. 'Can she afford,' said the Attorney of the Transvaal to me, 'to have a second Ireland at the distance of some 5,000 or 6,000 miles from home? What if she had war in India?

_To W. A. B._

Lucknow Lodge, Berea, Durban: August 22, 1899.

I thank my God in my prayers on your behalf for His goodness in granting you His best gift--a human soul to love and to inspire. Together you will be able to know and love Him better than either of you could alone. You cannot make your love too sacred; as you know God you will learn to know one another.

We are inclined to think that we know all that love means. The truth is, we are only beginners. Thank God that we are in the school, although only in one of the lowest forms. He will teach us, as years go by, to sanctify ourselves for the sake of another. We have not learned to love until we are living the highest possible life, in order that the object of our affection may become a saint. God is giving you a present, the value of which you see in part now, you will realise fully hereafter. You must wrestle with God for her and for yourself. If you are true to the highest, both of you will rise together and see God. If you are not, she may not be able to mount alone.

I am filled with joy and hope as I think of you both. I believe that you will live for God more completely now than ever before, and that you will be a fuller blessing to your people. You have my prayers. {114} I want you to make your ideals higher and higher. Then, when you have gained one height, you will find that what you took for the summit from the plain was not really so: there were further peaks beyond.

It is the beginning of an endless life. If God Himself be the centre of all, the nearer we are to Him, the nearer we are to one another. I _am_ glad that your wife is one who shares in your ideals, who lives for the highest. What a life in store for you here! And there--

Before the judgment seat,
Though changed and glorified each face,
Not unremembered you will meet
For endless ages to embrace.

You will be nearer the centre then, and nearer to one another.

May God Himself bless you, dear old fellow! Forgive this poor attempt at a letter. I share in your joy, although I am not actually with you. I never remember any wedding outside my own family which has given me greater pleasure. It was good of you to ask me to be present--very good.

B----, I _am_ glad. You must thank God and ask Him to tell you what it all means, and for her sake live as good a life as you possibly can.

With best love I am your friend,

FORBES.

_To a Friend after hearing of his intended ordination._

Durban: August 1899.

Your ordination will be like my own over again. It is unutterably good of God . . . to put it into {115} your heart to live the life which I had prayed might be yours. _Meizoteran touton ouk charin, hina akouo ta ema tekna en te aletheia peripatounta_ . . .

[Transcriber's note: The Greek phrases in the above paragraph were transliterated as follows: _Meizoteran_--Mu, epsilon, iota, zeta, omicron, tau, epsilon, rho, alpha, nu; _touton_--tau, omicron, upsilon, tau, omega, nu; _ouk_--omicron, upsilon, kappa; _charin_--chi, alpha, rho, iota, nu; _hina_--(rough breathing mark) iota, nu, alpha; _akouo_--alpha, kappa, omicron, upsilon, omega; _ta_--tau, alpha; _ema_--epsilon, mu, alpha; _tekna_--tau, epsilon, kappa, nu, alpha; _en_--epsilon, nu; _te_--tau, eta; _aletheia_--alpha, lambda, eta, theta, epsilon, iota, alpha; _peripatounta_--pi, epsilon, rho, iota, pi, alpha, tau, omicron, upsilon, nu, tau, alpha]

. . . If your temptations are great it is because your nature is rich and noble; and when it is disciplined you will have tremendous power. I shall not be content until your every thought is led captive to 'the obedience of the Christ.' You are born to be a saint, and you will be wretched until you are one. You are not the kind of man who can do things by halves.

I think I have told you of my father's words spoken during his last illness: 'If I had a thousand lives, I would give them all--all to the ministry.' You will not regret your decision. If angels could envy, how they would envy us our splendid chance--to be able, in a world where everything unseen must be taken on sheer faith, in a world where the contest between the flesh and the spirit is being decided for the universe, not only to win the battle ourselves but also to win it for others! To help a brother up the mountain while you yourself are only just able to keep your foothold, to struggle through the mist together--that surely is better than to stand at the summit and beckon. You will have a hard time of it, I know; and I would like to make it smoother and to 'let you down' easier; but I am sure that God, who loves you even more than I do, and has absolute wisdom, will not tax you beyond your strength. . . . I'll pray for you, like the widow in the parable, and I have immense belief in prayer. . . . You remember what was said of Maurice, 'He {116} always impressed me as a man who was naturally weak in his will; but an iron will seemed to work through him.' That Will can work through you and transform you, but for God's sake don't trust to your own will. . . .

If you are ordained it will be because there is one who in St. Paul's words--_ho aphorisas me ek koilias metros mou_--was separating you from birth and educating you with a view to the Gospel of Christ. . . .

Tasks in hours of insight willed
Can be through hours of gloom fulfilled.[1]

[1] Matthew Arnold, _Morality_.

[Transcriber's note: The Greek phrases in the above paragraph were transliterated as follows: _ho_--(rough breathing mark) omicron; _aphorisas_--alpha, phi, omicron, rho, iota, sigma, alpha, final sigma; _me_--mu, epsilon; _ek_--epsilon, kappa; _koilias_--kappa, omicron, iota, lambda, iota, alpha, final sigma; _metros_--mu, eta, tau, rho, omicron, final sigma; _mou_--mu, omicron, upsilon]

To his mother.

Estcourt, Natal; August 18, 1899.

General Gordon came to Kokstad on his way to Basutoland. When he arrived he went to the Royal Hotel, ordered a room, threw open the window, and spent two hours in prayer and meditation. The next day was Sunday. He asked Mr. Adkin what was being done for 1,000 Cape Mounted Infantry then stationed there, and when he learnt that nothing was being done for their spiritual food, he burst into tears. On Monday morning the first telegram which he sent off to the Cape Government was a request that a chaplain should be appointed. Mr. Adkin was appointed and remained chaplain until the force was disbanded. General Gordon went on to Basutoland, and had wonderful power over the natives. He told them that no force would be brought against {117} them; he himself was without weapons. He was settling the country, when news came to him that the Cape Government was, contrary to stipulation, sending an armed force against them; so he left the country in twenty-four hours.

Cecil Rhodes was once at Kokstad. When he was near the place, he lay down on the hillside and exclaimed: 'Oh, how I wish they would let me alone--let me stay here!' However, he had to go down to be fêted. He was listless, and bored by the banquet, until the present mayor began to attack him violently in his speech, and to complain about the Cape Government, and to express a desire that Natal would take them over. Then Rhodes woke up with a vengeance and gave them a great speech. Ixopo is where Rhodes started out in South Africa. His name still figures on the magistrates' books--fined 10_l._, for selling a gun to a native.

_To his cousin, J. C. H; on the occasion of the death of his brother._

December 7, 1899.

You know, without my saying it, that you have my deep sympathy and prayers at this time. . . . We dare not and cannot sorrow as do others who have no certain hope. Our sorrow is of another kind. For I am quite sure that

In His vast world above,
A world of broader love,
God hath some grand employment for His son.[1]

{118} How real it all makes that other world, to have our own brothers there! It makes it in a deeper sense our home.

[1] Faber, _The Old Labourer_.

_To the mother of his godchild, Margaret Forbes._

Dore House, St. Leonards: January 10, 1900.

I am so glad to feel that my little godchild will have real training. I don't know how far I received such a training myself at an early age . . . I came towards the end of a large family. The only permanent instruction which I can remember imparted to me by my nursery maid was a caution not to look behind me when I passed people in the street, enforced by the biblical precept, 'Remember Lot's wife.' I know what a fascination I had to look behind, accompanied by a terrible dread of the consequences.

I have always felt that Faber's 'God of my Childhood' describes the normal and true development of a child's life. I am sure that, although the gravity of sin should be early recognised, greater stress should be laid upon the Fatherhood and kindness of God. I was noticing to-day, when reading the second lesson, how Westcott and Hort have placed the clause in the Lord's Prayer which speaks of the Fatherhood of God in a line by itself as a heading to the whole prayer, putting a colon after the clause, and beginning the first petition with a capital letter. The prayer begins with 'Fatherhood' and ends with a reference to 'Sinfulness.' I think this fact is significant. We may not all be intended to come to {119} know religious truth in that order. But I think we are intended, when we do know it, to lay even more stress on the Fatherhood of God than on our own imperfections. It is a wonderful and terrible thing to watch the development of a human spirit. We can understand so little about any life, even when it is near and dear to us. But I am not sure that we cannot learn more about others than we can about ourselves. I never think it is profitable to study oneself too closely! I never could meditate with any profit on my sins. But there, I dare say, I differ from many others.

Well, I hope that the hair of my godchild is growing, and that she has now more than her god-father. His is coming to an untimely end.

_To F. S. H; who had recently become a chaplain in the Navy._

St. Leonards: January 11, 1900.

I am thinking of you in your new, difficult, and interesting life, and wondering how you like it. Or, rather, I am sure that you like it in its main features. There are in every life drawbacks and discouragements, for we live by faith and not by sight, and faith must be perfected in the midst of perplexities and contradictions. The mists are useful. It would not do to have brilliant sunshine all the time. For in that case, where would faith come in? Steering towards our port in the fog means trusting the Pilot. 'Mercifully grant that we, which know Thee now by faith, may after this life have the fruition of Thy glorious Godhead.' I suppose that none of us fully {120} knows what this prayer means. I think that there will be more need of faith hereafter than we usually think. Can we ever apprehend the Father or the Son without faith? The deepest truths are grasped by faith not sight. The man who has learned to exercise faith here will have fuller scope for his faith hereafter. What a shock to wake up in the next world and to find that the riddles of life still need faith for their solution! Yet I imagine that it will be so. Only faith will be able to go deeper than here. The faith perfected in the mists of life will, in the sunshine of eternity, see deeper into the meaning of events. I wish I had more faith. Not sudden flights of faith annihilating time and space and rising up to the throne of heaven. But I wish I could ground all my actions on faith, and regularly see the invisible and live as one who could see always and everywhere the Unseen. We are schooled in different ways. We cannot attain to perfection in a night. As we advance in the Christian life progress seems slower. In some sense it is so. It is easier to cast off a number of definite bad habits clearly inconsistent with the ideal just at first, than to perfect self-sacrifice, humility, and self-discipline. But we are advancing, though we know it not. If the engines are always kept working, we shall reach our goal!

_To C. N. W; who had recently been ordained._

St. Leonards-on-Sea: January 12, 1900.

You must remember how much your future efficiency is dependent upon a judicious use of your {121} strength during the next two or three years. I am sure you are right in looking back upon your life and tracing in its developments a higher than human guidance. It is a helpful thing to trace now and anon God's hand in our individual life. It brings Him nearer to us, and it is an awful thought that He is actually working within us. It makes us trust Him for time to come even when the prospect is gloomy. I think that we do well to spend some time in trying to interpret details of our past life. As years go on, we should have such a firm faith founded on the rock of experience that we will not be lightly shaken. Peace should be a characteristic of our life--the joy and peace which come from a certainty that there is a Purpose in all events. The sense that God has been with us in the past is a help in interpreting the history of our nation. Even our troubles are a proof that He is disciplining us. For the service of Intercession, which my brother uses in Westminster Abbey at the time of this war, the opening sentence is 'The Lord our God be with us,' and the answer is, 'As He was with our fathers.'

The College is getting on well. You must come up and see me this year, while you still know a number of men. I have now a little evening service--compline--in my rooms at 10 o'clock; Masterman asked me to have it. He asked men to come, and they asked others. I purposely refrained from asking any one. We are sometimes a goodly number. I think it is helpful to those who come. It is, I know, to me. We have a hymn when we have sufficient musical talent!

{122}

_To G. J. C._

Christ's College, Cambridge: 1900.

Gwatkin has exploded Anthony, 'who never existed.' But for all that I think Anthony is much like Adam and Eve. The originals may 'never have existed.' Yet their story belongs to all time. And there will be Anthonies and Adams and Eves to the end of time. It comforts me to feel that that which makes for evil is not my true self, but a wretched, cunning animal existence independent of me, existing before I came into being, although capable of appealing to me--a serpent.

I am half glad and half sorry to hear of your harmonium. Public worship is a terribly difficult thing, and it is well at times that we should realise its difficulties, and have it stripped bare of many helpful accessories. Yet worship in a village church impresses me. As in a college chapel, I realise then the continuity of the race. An old church tells me of generations of men who lived my life, to whom the present was everything, and the dead almost nothing, who never could seriously believe that some day the world would whirl and follow the sun without them. It tells me more than most things of what St. Paul means when he said that we were all making one perfect man. And I am humbled and thankful to know that I in my generation can do something towards the Christ 'that is to be.'

Read the Old Testament itself. Nothing will {123} atone for lack of knowledge of the Bible. Robertson Smith's and Adam Smith's books (especially the latter's) on the Old Testament Prophets ought to prove useful. . . . When I call a man by his Christian name, I usually make it a rule to pray for him. I shall do so in your case. I will try to pray every day. I wonder whether you would sometimes pray for me: I believe immensely in the power of prayer. It is the greatest favour I can ask of you, and I know I have no right to prefer the request; but it would be kind of you if you could occasionally. One needs all the help one can get in this strange life up here. Now I will end. I have written you a strange, unreserved letter. Forgive me. How I wish this dreadful war was at an end! U----'s going was a blow to me; but I am sure he did the right thing. I admire and love that man. . . .

_To G. J. C._

Castleton, Swanage: 1900.

. . . You will not have misinterpreted my silence. I could not answer your letter until I had secured a time for quiet thought and for prayer. When I try to write, I feel the uselessness of words. I am doing better when I am praying for you than when I am writing to you. Yet I must write. . . . It is strange that God should have made us thus. To those whom He honours most He gives largest capacity for love, and therefore largest capacity for suffering. It is still more strange that we would not wish to be {124} without the love in spite of the agony which it brings. It must be because

All loves are shadows cast
By the beautiful eternal hills
Of Thine unbeginning past.

I feel this truth 'in seasons of calm weather.' But at other times I ask myself, I ask God, angrily, Why should some men have no obstacle to their love? Why should another suffer more than any one can tell--more than, it sometimes seems to me, can ever be requited? I cannot answer the question. But I often think of the great unsatisfied heart of God, and then I think of this poor unsatisfied heart made in His image, and I feel that He understands me, and that I understand Him better than I used to do, before this terrible hunger of love began.

I pray God that He will deal tenderly with you, G----, and I am sure that He will. It cuts me to the heart to think of your suffering, and I would stop it this moment if I could. So would God--for He loves you more than I do--unless it were the best thing for you. It is written of the Son of man, _emathen aph on epathen_. May the same words be true of you and of me! God bless you and give you Light and Peace!

Peace is something more than joy,
Even the joys above;
For peace, of all created things,
Is likest Him we love.

[Transcriber's note: The Greek phrase in the above paragraph was transliterated as follows: _emathen_--epsilon, mu, alpha, theta, epsilon, nu; _aph_--alpha, phi; _on_--emega, nu; _epathen_--epsilon, pi, alpha, theta, epsilon, nu]

This letter may appear cold to you. It is not. I feel more deeply than I write. . . . Some day, if {125} you care to hear, I will tell you something about my own imperfect life. I can't write it down. Later the day will dawn. But God sends the darkness that we may learn to trust Him, I have never yet found Him to fail. We cannot trust Him too much.

_To the mother of a friend, after having been present at his funeral._

Cambridge: April 22, 1900.

I feel I must write and tell you how grateful I am to you for your kindness in allowing me to be present on Thursday. Whenever I think of your son who has passed away, that text comes into my mind: 'Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.' He was pure in heart, and I cannot think of him as lifeless, but as actually seeing God. . . . I am thankful to have been allowed to be his friend. I shall never forget him; his life remains a source of strength and inspiration to me. It comforts me now to know that he is sinking deeper and deeper into the peace of God, which passeth all understanding. You were talking to me about W----; I could not say all that I wished to say. . . . I am very, very slow to suggest ordination to a man. I realise the responsibility of doing so, but there is no man whom I desire to see ordained more than W----; he has been to me more help than I can possibly say. I dare not try to tell you all that he has done for me, because you would think I was exaggerating. I cannot help feeling that, if he helps me so much, he might help others also, and that, if he were ordained, {126} he would have singular opportunities for rendering such help. But I do not press him in the matter, because I might do wrong; but I pray again and again that, if God wishes him to be ordained, He will make His purpose clear, and I am quite sure that He will not leave us in the dark.

_To C. T. W._

Cambridge: July 1900.

I was delighted to read in the paper yesterday of your election to a fellowship. . . . The life will be a harder one than that of an ordinary parish clergyman; it will be easier to lose sight of ideals. But the importance of the work is in proportion to its difficulty. Blessed is the man who finds his work, and does it; and you will be blessed. . . .

You should read St. Patrick's 'Confession,' a genuine work of my distinguished countryman. It is full of humility and zeal. I give you a quotation: 'After I had come to Ireland I used daily to feed cattle, and I often prayed during the day. More and more did the love of God and the fear of Him increase, and faith became stronger and the spirit was moved; so that in one day I said as many as a hundred prayers, and in the night nearly the same. . . . And there was no sluggishness in me, as I now see there is, for at that time the spirit was fervent within me.' Pathetic--that last part. He might have been living at Cambridge! But I hope better things for you.

{127}

_To C. T. W._

Thirlmere: September 1900.

My thoughts are with you now--and my prayers. 'He had seven stars--in His right hand,' was the thought which comforted me at my own ordination, when I felt, as seldom before, my own hollowness and incapacity. We can shed light--we are safe--because we are 'in His right hand.' 'The eternal God is our refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.' We can never go beyond His love and care. In moments of perplexity and uncertainty, although we cannot feel His presence, He is there. 'In His right hand.' 'They that turn many to righteousness shall shine as the stars for ever and ever.'

May God give you the power to love and the power to pray! Much prayer and much love are needed for a successful ministry. Good-bye, and God bless you and make you a true and faithful pastor! Remember St. Paul's words: _he dunamis en astheneia teleitai. edista oun mallon kauchesomai en tais astheneiais, hina episkenose ep eme he dunamis tou Christou; hotan gar artheno, tote dunatos eimi_.

[Transcriber's note: The Greek phrases above were transliterated as follows: _he_--(rough breathing mark) eta; _dunamis_--delta, upsilon, nu, alpha, mu, iota, final sigma; _en_--epsilon, nu; _astheneia_--alpha, sigma, theta, epsilon, nu, epsilon, iota, alpha; _teleitai_--tau, epsilon, lambda, epsilon, iota, tau, alpha, iota; _edista_--eta, delta, iota, sigma, tau, alpha; _oun_--omicron, upsilon, nu; _mallon_--mu, alpha, lambda, lambda, omicron, nu; _kauchesomai_--kappa, alpha, upsilon, chi, eta, sigma, omicron, mu, alpha, iota; _en_--epsilon, nu; _tais_--tau, alpha, iota, final sigma; _astheneiais_--alpha, sigma, theta, epsilon, nu, epsilon, iota, alpha, iota, final sigma; _hina_--(rough breathing mark) iota, nu, alpha; _episkenose_--epsilon, pi, iota, sigma, kappa, eta, nu, omega, sigma, eta; _ep_--epsilon, pi; _eme_--epsilon, mu, epsilon; _he_--(rough breathing mark) eta; _dunamis_--delta, upsilon, nu, alpha, mu, iota, final sigma; _tou_--tau, omicron, upsilon; _Christou_--Chi, rho, iota, sigma, tau, omicron, upsilon; _hotan_--(rough breathing mark) omicron, tau, alpha, nu; _gar_--gamma, alpha, rho; _artheno_--alpha, rho, theta, epsilon, nu, omega; _tote_--tau, omicron, tau, epsilon; _dunatos_--delta, upsilon, nu, alpha, tau, omicron, final sigma; _eimi_--epsilon, iota, mu, iota]

_To W. D. H._

Dale Head Post Office, Thirlmere, September 20, 1900.

My thoughts and my prayers are with you at this time. I remember how at my own ordination, when I felt as never before my own utter weakness and incapacity, the thoughts in the first chapter of the Revelation, of Christian ministers as 'stars in His {128} right hand' comforted and supported me. In His right hand--with His power we can do all things. As the lesson for to-day says, _he dunamis en astheneia teleitai_, strength is perfected in weakness. _hotan astheno tote dunatos eimi_.

[Transcriber's note: The Greek phrases above were transliterated as follows: _he_--(rough breathing mark) eta; _dunamis_--delta, upsilon, nu, alpha, mu, iota, final sigma; _en_--epsilon, nu; _astheneia_--alpha, sigma, theta, epsilon, nu, epsilon, iota, alpha; _teleitai_--tau, epsilon, lambda, epsilon, iota, tau, alpha, iota; _hotan_--(rough breathing mark) omicron, tau, alpha, nu; _astheno_--alpha, sigma, theta, epsilon, nu, omega; _tote_--tau, omicron, tau, epsilon; _dunatos_--delta, upsilon, nu, alpha, tau, omicron, final sigma; _eimi_--epsilon, iota, mu, iota]