To draw near
to the One All-Beautiful Being, Christ, to know Him as our
spirits may know The Spirit, to receive the breath of his
infinitely loving Life into mine, that I might breathe out that
fragrance again into the lives around me--this was the longing
wish that, half hidden from myself, lay deep beneath all other
desires of my soul. This was what religion grew to mean to me,
what it is still growing to mean, more simply and more clearly as
the years go on.
The heart must be very humble to which this heavenly approach is
permitted. It knows that it has nothing in itself, nothing for
others, which it has not received. The loving Voice of Him who
gives his friends his errands to do whispers through them
constantly, "Ye are not your own."
There may be those who would think my narrative more
entertaining, if I omitted these inner experiences, and related
only lighter incidents. But one thing I was aware of, from the
time I began to think and to wonder about my own life--that what
I felt and thought was far more real to me than the things that
happened.
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