He had too much
respect for sorrow to approach it with curiosity. He had learned to
put off his shoes when he drew nigh the burning bush of human pain.
Robert had not settled at any of the universities, but had moved
from one to the other as he saw fit, report guiding him to the men
who spoke with authority. The time of doubt and anxious questioning
was far from over, but the time was long gone by--if in his case it
had ever been--when he could be like a wave of the sea, driven of
the wind and tossed. He had ever one anchor of the soul, and he
found that it held--the faith of Jesus (I say the faith of Jesus,
not his own faith in Jesus), the truth of Jesus, the life of Jesus.
However his intellect might be tossed on the waves of speculation
and criticism, he found that the word the Lord had spoken remained
steadfast; for in doing righteously, in loving mercy, in walking
humbly, the conviction increased that Jesus knew the very secret of
human life. Now and then some great vision gleamed across his soul
of the working of all things towards a far-off goal of simple
obedience to a law of life, which God knew, and which his son had
justified through sorrow and pain. Again and again the words of the
Master gave him a peep into a region where all was explicable, where
all that was crooked might be made straight, where every mountain of
wrong might be made low, and every valley of suffering exalted.
Ever and again some one of the dark perplexities of humanity began
to glimmer with light in its inmost depth.
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