of casual observers. In the first place he seems anxious, of set purpose, to make his life quiet, unobtrusive, and commonplace. He does not seem to be consumed with a zeal for testifying; he probably belongs to few societies, and does not press forward as the spokesman of a cause or as a champion of righteousness; he does not appear to cast about for opportunities of usefulness, nay, he seems sometimes to neglect them when they stare him in the face. We should describe him as a rather disappointing person, good and respectable, no doubt, but very much lacking in in dash and enthusiasm. But if we could penetrate beneath the surface we should discover an underlying principle. He is a man who believes intensely in prayer as the strongest and most beneficent power in the universe, and in some form or other his life is largely made up of prayer. He is deeply impressed with the amount of harm done by good people, with the extent to which beneficent activity is ruined by selfassertion, with the futility of zeal unaccompanied by charity and humility, with the impossibility of exerting a spiritual influence without leading a spiritual life. On the other hand, he feels that if he prays for people he must do them good and cannot do them harm, and that, if he lives himself in communion with God, he will help his neighbour more thereby than by much exhortation and instruction and reproof. If people ask his advice, he will spare no time or trouble in trying to help them. If he sees some one who needs assistance, he will grudge no sacrifice to render it. As Rusbrock quaintly puts it, "If you are carried as high in ecstasy as St. Peter and St. Paul, and learn that a sick man requires some hot broth, I advise you to wake up for a moment from ecstasy and heat up the broth." If his calling is that of a "pastor and teacher," he will be careful to make his own spiritual experience the basis of all his utterances, in order that he may know what he talks about, and may talk only of what he knows. He hopes that if Christ really dwells within him, Christ will shine out through him and guide men's feet into the way of peace; that if he has honestly offered his life to Christ, Christ will show him what to do or say, or, rather, will Himself say and do what is right by means of His servant's lips and hands. Thus there will be nothing showy about his life; the world will not ring with his achievements; he will not be widely known; it will be enough if, through contact with his character, the characters of others are strengthened, deepened, and purified. (b) Secondly, besides being quiet and reticent, he strikes the careful observer as extraordinarily happy. There is nothing grudging or reluctant or half-hearted about his morality. Goodness, in his eyes is not a grumbling sacrifice to the proprieties, but Christ dwelling in him. And as the Christ who thus dwells in him is also the Eternal Word, the archetype of truth, the moral life is, to him, the true or rational life, the life in accordance with the reason 'Hello, p. 121 of things, the life which conforms to the supreme and eternal law of love. In being moral he feels that he is not being stupid or boorish, but is in harmony with the ultimate truth of things, the supreme intelligence of the universe. Again, since the Eternal Word is not only the treasure-house of wisdom but also of beauty and glory, it follows that this morality, inspired by the indwelling Word, is an intrinsically beautiful thing, not something to be apologised for, but something prized as noble and glorious in itself and inherently attractive to others; something that brings gladness and serene happiness to its possessor. Thus the morality of the spiritually minded man is linked with truth and beauty. It is a precious possession, not gained by his own effort, but the gift of the indwelling Spirit of Christ. He will be tempted, certainly, to give it up; but he knows that if he did so he would be sacrificing not only what is right but what is essentially true and beautiful, and thereby defacing and ruining his life. He knows that in maintaining his moral principles he is living a full, coherent, and noble life; hence his happiness. The Greek conception of morality as "the beautiful"-which is the most precious legacy of Aristotle to the Church-is thus adopted and expanded by the Christian mystic. Goodness is beautiful in his eyes, not because it consists in a romantic and patriotic devotion to the welfare of his city, but because Goodness is inseparably united with beauty and truth in the life of the Word of God. The beauty of goodness is founded on cosmical, not municipal, relationships; and because the union of the two qualities is based on eternal verities, not on transient social conditions, goodness will still be always and everywhere beautiful, however dull and unpromising or repellent the circumstances under which it is exhibited. THE CHAPTER XIV SYMBOL AND SACRAMENT HE spiritual man sees in the Eternal Word the unity and the perfection of all things. It follows that he will discover features of affinity and bonds of union between all the objects that come before him. Beauty, truth, and goodness are each of them symbolical of the others, because all exist together as a living unity in the Word. So, in whatever department of things the spiritual man may be engaged, he is always in touch with the whole.1 He knows that the minute subsection of knowledge in which he is engaged is an integral portion of perfect truth, and is thereby also allied to beauty and goodness. • Cf. Dante's beautiful metaphor: "Nel suo profondo vidi che s'interna, "Within its depths I saw ingathered, bound by love in one volume, the scattered leaves of all the universe" (Temp. Cl. Tr.). |