As soon as he
ceases to look practically on the phenomena with which he is surrounded,
he is enveloped in storm and darkness, and sees only in the far distance
the disappearing skirt of his Lord's garment. God's care is over all, he
goes on to say; I must do _my part_. If I look speculatively on the
world, there is nothing but dimness and mystery. If I look practically
on it,
"No mere mote's-breadth, but teems immense
With witnessings of Providence."
And whether the world which I seek to help censures or praises me--that
is nothing to me. My life--how is it with me?
"Soul of mine, hadst thou caught and held
By the hem of the vesture....
And I caught
At the flying robe, and, unrepelled,
Was lapped again in its folds full-fraught
With warmth and wonder and delight,
God's mercy being infinite.
And scarce had the words escaped my tongue,
When, at a passionate bound, I sprung
Out of the wandering world of rain,
Into the little chapel again."
Had he dreamed? how then could he report of the sermon and the preacher?
of which and of whom he proceeds to give a very external account.
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