Thousands--millions--of books have been written about the Christian
theology, and half of European mankind cannot claim to have any fixed
and certain belief which leads to right conduct. Some of the noblest and
sweetest souls on earth have given way to chill hopelessness, and only a
very bold or a very thick-sighted man could blame them; we must be
tender towards all who are perplexed, especially when we see how
terrible are the reasons for perplexity. Nevertheless, dark as the
outlook may be in many directions, men are slowly coming to see that the
service of God is the destruction of enmity, and that the religion of
tenderness and pity alone can give happiness during our dark pilgrimage.
Far back in last winter a man was forcing his way across a dreary marsh
in the very teeth of a wind that seemed to catch his throat in an icy
grip, stopping the breath at intervals and chilling the very heart.
Coldly the grey breakers rolled under the hard lowering sky; coldly the
western light flickered on the iron slopes of far-off hills; coldly the
last beams struck on the water and made chance wavelets flash with a
terrible glitter. The night rushed down, and the snow descended
fiercely; the terrified cattle tried to find shelter from the scourge of
the storm; a hollow roar rang sullenly amid the darkness; stray
sea-birds far overhead called weirdly, and it seemed as if the spirit of
evil were abroad in the night.
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