But it was not the Articles of Faith I was thinking of, although
there was a long list of them, to which we all bowed assent, as
was the custom. It was the homecoming to the "house not made with
hands," the gladness of signifying that I belonged to God's
spiritual family, and was being drawn closer to his heart, with
whom none of us are held as "strangers and foreigners."
I felt that I was taking up again the clue which had been put
into my childish hand at baptism, and was being led on by it into
the unfolding mysteries of life. Should I ever let it slip from
me, and lose the way to the "many mansions" that now seemed so
open and so near? I could not think so. It is well that we cannot
foresee our falterings and failures. At least I could never
forget that I had once felt my own and other lives bound together
with the Eternal Life by an invisible thread.
The vague, fitful desire I had felt from my childhood to be
something to the world I lived in, to give it something of the
the inexpressible sweetness that often seemed pouring through me,
I knew not whence, now began to shape itself into a definite
outreach towards the Source of all spiritual life.
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