Part 10 (2/2)

Do you expect to fare better, when you are exercising faculties which have been for long more or less dormant? The same man goes on to say--and I {130} think it is a comforting truth--that G.o.d sees further than we do, sees what we mean:

These surface troubles come and go, Like rufflings of the sea; The deeper depth is out of reach To all, my G.o.d, but Thee.

Even if your conscience condemns you, remember that G.o.d is greater than your conscience. He sees that you _want_ to pray, and the battle is half won when there is even the want. I like these old words of the hymn:

Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees,

even if he can't collect his thoughts. I find it usually easier to pray for others than for myself. I believe in beginning by praying for what is easiest. I don't kneel down. I find it more possible to concentrate my attention when I am walking about or sitting down. And I tell G.o.d what I know about a man, and how I want him to live a better life. Sometimes I seem to struggle for him as though for very life. I go on and on and on--sometimes repeating the same request. I try to copy the poor widow who wearied out the dishonest judge. I am not distressed when my thoughts wander, I know that they will always wander without G.o.d's help. The distress occasioned by wandering thoughts, and the attempt to trace the stages by which they wandered, I regard as temptations of the devil. . . . I go back as calmly as possible to the matter in hand.

Excuse my 'egoism.' I put it in the first person, {131} because I believe my own experience will help you more than rules derived from the experience of others.

Suppose you spend half an hour in this way, and only really pray for three or four minutes, your efforts will be more than rewarded. You will have done more than you know for the person for whom you have prayed. And the next half-hour you will find that you can concentrate your attention for a minute or two longer. Don't think too much about yourself when you pray. You must lose your soul if you would save it.

There is probably some one thing or some one person easier than others for you to pray for. Begin with that.

I never try, as some people do, to cla.s.sify and enter into details about my sins. I bring the whole contradictory, weary, and unintelligible ma.s.s of them to G.o.d, and leave them with Him. I am quite sure I shall never do better without Him. But I know that He believes in me, and will help me in spite of myself. He believes in you too, dear old fellow! May G.o.d bless you for your kindness to me!

Write me just a short note to tell me that you don't despise me in spite of what must seem to you rather unintelligible and ridiculous confessions.

I can't help it. And if you can bring yourself to do it, call me too by my Christian name.

_To the same._

Christ's College, Cambridge: September 28, 1900.

I feel more and more the necessity of being alone occasionally for some time--to get time enough to {132} pray. I think my supreme desire is to be a man of prayer. You must help me to accomplish the desire: 'Gutta cavat lapidem non vi, sed saepe cadendo.'

So it is with prayer. As the stone gets worn away, not by the force of the drop of water but by its constant trickling, so prayer often renewed must at length attain its end. It is a wonderful privilege to be able to state all one's wishes and hopes for others in prayer--to know that there can be there no possibility of misunderstanding--to tell to G.o.d the incomprehensible depth of one's love, and to feel that He knows what it means, because He Himself is love. It is glorious to be made in His image, and to be sure that all one's highest yearnings are a reflection--however broken, partial, and unsightly--of His own marvellous life.We have indeed cause to be grateful for our 'creation.' I often look at the poor dumb creatures, and thank G.o.d that He has given me such full powers of love, which they cannot understand: for I would rather have the pains of love than any other pleasure.

_To F. S. H., a chaplain in the Navy._

Cambridge: November 4, 1900.

I ought to have written before this. The fact that I did not answer at once is partly accounted for by my having a good deal of work to do, and partly by physical weakness. I have not been very well this term.

It is cruel of you to suspect me of having forgotten all about you. I am not that sort. I owe too much to you in the past ever to forget you. {133} I don't think that you really suspected me of inconstancy.

I am so sorry that you are sometimes lonely and very miserable. I feel at times weak, physically weak. I think that at such times one can lean back, as it were, on the Divine arms. He understands our weakness and weariness. He knows what loneliness and sadness mean. And He is not extreme to mark what we do amiss. He knows that we are but flesh.

And He 'dwells not in the light alone, but in the darkness and the light.' Even when the darkness hides Him and we cannot find where He is, we can, as it were, reach out our hands to Him, and we are safe.

G.o.d has much to teach us while we are teaching others. And life is not exactly the same as we thought at the beginning. He teaches us by unexpected experiences. But the comfort is that He never changes; we may be weary, but He never slumbers nor sleeps. Sometimes we feel very fit and capable. Then is the time to pray and to rise to the heights.

Later, when we are incapable, although it is hard to rise, we need not fall. When the mist clears we can go on again, and it may be that we shall find that even in the mist we had gone further than we thought.

The deep snow and the long dark rainy days are necessary for the perfecting of the fruit, as well as the suns.h.i.+ne. And we do need suns.h.i.+ne. I feel more and more grateful and thankful to G.o.d for His goodness. He has been so good to me, and I don't deserve it. And I think that if you look back and look forward you will feel more and more His marvellous sympathy and affection. I am glad you have been reading Robertson's Life. Though he {134} may have been almost morbid at times, he was a great man and did a great work. . . . You will find later that your work has been far more effective than you expected.

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