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not renounce all higher and nobler sentiments, nor dismiss from his mind the thought of the Godhead and the divine (which indeed for its mere preservation requires no outward ordinance or loss of time), as belonging to the boy, and suitable only for the unripe years of youth. Or to regard life under its passive aspect, let us think of the happy wife by the side of a husband she loves, and living only in her children, and possessing of worldly good as much as she wishes or requires: suddenly, by one of those changes and chances which prevail in this transitory life, she is bereaved of all—the partner of her joys and cares, the children of her bosom, and perhaps, too, of her rank and consideration, while beneath the repeated strokes of affliction her very health sinks. Who would check her tears or blame her natural sorrow if she feels and tells her woes? No one: for holier eyes than man’s look upon her with compassion. One thing, however, may fairly and reasonably be expected of her—that she do not give way entirely to despair, nor murmur against Providence. More, therefore, than man requires of man in the ordinary relations of life, God requires not of the human will; and on that alone does He make any requisition, in respect to that free assent and internal concurrence which alone can bind us in personal union with the Godhead, and bring us near to Him; a consummation which no mere intellectual apprehension of all possible revelations, whether written on the pages of inspiration, or on the open tablets of nature, or engraven on the imperishable annals of history, is sufficient to bring about.

      So much and nothing more is required for this essential concurrence of the human will with the divine, in the general relations of life. But, in the case of any special vocation and profession—if, for instance, a man feels himself disposed to become a minister of the revealed Word, an instrument and messenger of the divine communications—then, no doubt, higher and sterner requisitions must come into consideration. To men of native courage, what vocation can be more universal than that of a soldier and defender of his country? but does not it require, besides undaunted courage and contempt of death, the patient and enduring fortitude which bears up under countless hardships and privations? What vocation, again, can be simpler and more fully founded in nature, than that of the softer sex to become a mother? but how many sufferings, and fears, and dangers, compass it about, and how infinite are the great and little anxieties to which a mother’s love—that purest and truest of all earthly affections—is exposed? And it is even herein that human love most betrays its weakness; it may suffice for some one determinate direction, some transitory period of life, for some single effort of magnanimity or self-sacrifice, but it rarely survives the changes of time and fortune, and its faith and ardor too often are extinguished amid the petty trials of every-day life, and its numberless cares and anxieties.

      And as with the love, so also is it with the faith of men: it enters not sufficiently into minutiæ; it is not personal enough, nor sufficiently childlike and confiding; it is not made to refer enough to ourselves. Most men, indeed, have only too high an opinion of their own worth—an overweening confidence in their own powers; at least, the opposite fault of extreme diffidence is a rare exception. But yet, it is true, men generally take far too low an estimate of their true vocation and proper destiny; they believe not in its high dignity; and as viewed in its place among the vast universe, they hold it and themselves as comparatively insignificant. But this is a total misconception. Every man is an individual entity—an inner world of his own, full of life—a true microcosm (as has already been said in a different sense) in the eye of God and in the scheme of creation: every man has a vocation of his own, and an appropriate destiny. Could men’s eyes be but once opened to see it, how would they be amazed at the infinity which they have neglected, and might have attained to, and which generally in the world remains neglected and unattained. But of the many thousands whom this remark concerns, how very few ever attain to a clear cognition of their real destination! And the reason of this is simply the fact, that the faith of men is all too weak, and, above all, that it is too vaguely general, too superficial, too little searching or profound—not sufficiently personal and childlike.

      A childlike faith, and a love that endureth unto the end—these are the true bonds to hold the soul of man in intimate union with God. But it is in hope, such as is at present found among men, that the chief defect lies; for hope ought to be strong and heroic, otherwise it is not that which the name expresses. Few men, perhaps, are entirely devoid of faith and love, only they are not sufficiently carried into the details and trifles of life, as human wants require; for it is exactly to these that all that is divine in men’s thoughts and deeds ought to be directed. In hope, on the contrary, the inner man must raise himself and ascend up to God: it must, therefore, be strong and energetic, if it is to be efficacious. On this account we might well expect it to be far more rare, comparatively, than faith and love, considered according to the human scale of reasoning; on the other hand, probably, there are many men who, internally, are almost totally destitute of hope.

      The longing after the eternal and divine, which has been already described, is the seeking of God; but this calm, inward assent of the will, whenever, with a childlike faith and enduring love, and in steadfast hope, it is carried through and maintained with unwavering fidelity throughout life, is the actual finding of Him within us, and a constant adherence to Him when once we have found Him. As the root and principle of all that is best and noblest in man, this divine longing can not be too highly estimated, and nowhere is it so inimitably described, and its excellence so fully acknowledged, as in Holy Writ itself. A remarkable instance of it is the fact that a prophet who was set apart and called by God Himself to his office, and was for that purpose endued with miraculous gifts, is expressly called in Holy Writ the man of longings.[27] And yet this longing is nothing but the source, the first root, from which springs that triple flower in the lovely symbol of faith, hope, and charity, which afterward, spreading over every grade and sphere of moral and intellectual existence, expands into the richest and most manifold fruits.

      Now, it is very possible in some serious and intellectual work to feel a pleasure in this triple union of holy thoughts and sentiments, as with any deeply-significant picture in general, without duly entering the while into its precise requisitions and profound meaning. But from one particular end of a philosophy of life, i.e., of a thorough knowledge of the human consciousness, the psychological aspect of the subject assumes a peculiar importance, and essentially demands our attention. With this view, I venture to assert that the human consciousness, which otherwise and in itself is entirely a prey to discord, and split into irreconcilable contraries, is, by faith, hope, and love, redeemed from this dissension—is raised from its innate law, of an erring and dead thought, and of an absolute will, which is no less dead and null, being restored gradually to a perfect state of unison and harmony. Under the influence of faith—and by this term I understand, not the cold and heartless repetition of a customary formulary, but a living and personal faith in a living and personal God and Savior—under the influence of such a faith, the living spirit of truth steps into that place of the consciousness which before was usurped by the mere abstract thinking of a degraded understanding. And whenever, on the other hand, a refined goodness and love have in patient endurance become the soul of existence, there is no room for the stormy obstinacy or passionate wildness of an absolute will. Even in the will itself all is now life; discord is banished from it, and all the threatening elements of strife are forever appeased. And in that trusting confidence with which the loving soul leans upon God—in the strong godlike hope which takes its stand upon the Eternal, the reason, with its ordering, regulating, and methodical processes, and the fancy, with its dreams of the infinite, are again completely reconciled, and thereby the harmony of the human consciousness restored. Fancy, I remarked formerly, is the characteristic property of man, as distinguished by it from other spiritual intelligences; for reason, as a mere faculty of negation, affords only a negative distinction of his nature as compared with irrational creatures. But now, in a more comprehensive view, and, at the same time, with profounder significance and greater truth of description, we may say of man, in the same sense and in the same relation, hope forms his characteristic property and his inmost essence.

      Here, then, in this holy hope, is longing, that marvelous flower of the soul, expanded into its perfect and noblest fruit. If, in judging of the three, man looks to the end to which he is to attain—if, in thought, he places himself at this point of view, then assuredly will love appear the highest and the best; for hope ceases when fulfillment comes in, and sight enters into the place of faith, but love abideth forever.[28] As long, however, as man has not

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