IN the old days of blind striving after that which was tangible in religion, the writer used to feel that something should be done, taken up, in order to gain a nearer approach to God, but this helplessness arose in the doubt as to what to do. Certain standards set up by traditional religious systems lay open to follow. There was the literal interpretation of the Scriptural analysis of "pure religion;" but the effort to fulfil this ideal, of visiting "the fatherless and widows in their affliction," was, after all, open to doubt as to the advantage, both to one's self and to those ministered to. In short, something more was behind that ideal than what appeared on the face of it. Then, again, there were the recognized avenues by which man was supposed to approach his Maker,—the church and its sacraments; exercises of devotion, including forms of prayer and penitence,—the barrenness of their effect upon her spiritual life revealed their inability to help. If "faith without works is dead," as the apostle James declares, so also are works without faith. The writer often took comfort in Milton's words, implying as they do the failure of his own search after righteousness: "They also serve who only stand and wait."
Thronging troubles at length brought the blessing of waiting on God, yet in the end there was nothing done but waiting and bearing. Gradually, however, all had been narrowed down to the pinpoint, as it were, of thought, the straining for light beyond the blinded sight of the moment, which light was to come suddenly at last. Something was said, a few scientific words were uttered by some one, and lo! the light began to dawn,—a door to open upon immeasurable possibilities of satisfaction and progress. The solution seemed here, the enigma solved, and all appeared at first so simple that it was a wonder it had not been seen before.
And what was this secret which was revealed, and why was it new? Was it indeed new? Surely it had been heard before! Familiar sentences in the Bible came to mind, assuming new meanings. What was changed? Not the words, but the mental attitude that apprehended them. And what had changed that mental attitude? Just the spoken word, the Christ, the truth. It was the falling apple of Newton, the key that opened the Scriptures and made them plain. And so, when the truth comes to us, it is never startling; it is so evidently true, so reasonable and logical, that the waiting heart receives it as a child accepts and eats the good things its mother offers.
