In a word, He came to provide all our deficiency — from the root outward ; for what is it we need but more life? What does the infant demand but more life? What does the bosom of his female parent give him but life in copiousness? What does the old adult male demand, whose limbs are weak and whose pulsation is low, but more of the life which seems ebbing from him? Aweary with infirmity, he calls upon decease, but in world it is life he wants. It is but the infringing decease in him that desires decease. He longs for remainder, but decease can non rest ; decease would be every bit much an terminal to rest as to weariness: even failing can non rest ; it takes strength every bit good as fatigue to rest. How different is the fatigue of the strong adult male after labour unduly drawn-out, from the fatigue of the ill adult male who in the forenoon cries out, ‘Would God it were flushing! ‘ and in the eventide, ‘Would God it were forenoon! ‘ Low-sunk life imagines itself weary of life, but it is decease, non life, it is weary of. Never a call went out after the antonym of life from any psyche that knew what life is. Why does the hapless, worn, out-worn self-destruction seek decease? Is it non in world to get away from decease? — from the decease of homelessness and hungriness and cold ; the decease of failure, letdown, and distraction ; the decease of the exhaustion of passion ; the decease of lunacy — of a family he can non govern ; the decease of offense and fright of find? He seeks the darkness because it seems a safety from the decease which possesses him. He is a animal possessed by decease ; what he calls his life is but a dream full of atrocious apparitions.
‘More life! ‘ is the unconscious supplication of all creative activity, moaning and laboring for the salvation of its Godhead, the boy who is non yet a boy. Is non the dense call to be read in the faces of some of the animate beings, in the expression of some of the flowers, and in many an facet of what we call Nature? All things are possible with God, but all things are non easy. It is easy for him to be, for there he has to make with his ain perfect will: it is non easy for him to make — that is, after the expansive manner which entirely will fulfill his glorious bosom and will, the manner in which he is now making us. In the very nature of being — that is, God — it must be difficult — and godly history shows how difficult — to make that which shall be non himself, yet like himself. The job is, so far to divide from himself that which must yet on him be of all time and ever and utterly dependant, that it shall hold the being of an person, and be able to turn and see him — choose him, and say, ‘I will originate and travel to my Father, ‘ and so develop in itself the highest Godhead of which it is capable — the will for the good against the immorality — the will to be one with the life whence it has come, and in which it still is — the will to shut the unit of ammunition of its emanation in its return, so working the flawlessness of reunion — to determine in its ain life the ring of infinity — to populate instantly, consciously, and active-willingly from its beginning, from its ain really life — to reconstruct to the get downing the terminal that comes of that beginning — to be the thing the shaper idea of when he willed, ere he began to work its being.
I imagine the trouble of making this thing, of set uping this creative activity, this separation from himself such that will in the animal shall be possible — I imagine, I say, the trouble of such creative activity so great, that for it God must get down inconceivably far back in the minute parts of beginnings — non to state before anything in the least resembling adult male, but ageless stat mis beyond the last farthest-pushed find in living substance — to put in gesture that division from himself which in its expansive consequence should be individualism, consciousness, pick, and witting pick — pick at last pure, being the pick of the right, the true, the divinely harmonious. Hence the concluding terminal of the separation is non individualism ; that is but a means to it ; the concluding terminal is oneness — an impossibleness without it. For there can be no integrity, no delectation of love, no harmoniousness, no good in being, where there is but one. Two at least are needed for unity ; and the greater the figure of persons, the greater, the lovelier, the richer, the diviner is the possible integrity.
God is life, and the will-source of life. In the outflowing of that life, I know him ; and when I am told that he is love, I see that if he were non love he would non, could non make. I know nil deeper in him than love, nor believe there is in him anything deeper than love — nay, that there can be anything deeper than love. The being of God is love, hence creative activity. I imagine that from all infinity he has been making. As he saw it was non good for adult male to be entirely, so has he ne’er been entirely himself ; — from all infinity the Father has had the Son, and the never-begun being of that Son I imagine an easy outgoing of the Father ‘s nature ; while to do other existences — existences like us, I imagine the labor of a God, an ageless labor. Speaking after our hapless human manners of idea — the lone manners possible to us — I imagine that God has ne’er been contented to be entirely even with the Son of his love, the premier and perfect thought of humanity, but that he has from the first willed and laboured to give being to other animals who should be blessed with his beatitude — animals whom he is now and ever has been developing into similitude with that Son — a similitude for long to be distant and little, but a similitude to be for of all time turning: possibly ne’er one of them yet, though ineffably blessed, has had even an approximative thought of the beatitude in shop for him.
Let no psyche think that to state God set about a difficult labor in willing that many boies and girls should be partakers of the godly nature, is to slake his glorification! The greater the trouble, the greater is the glorification of him who does the thing he has undertaken — without shadow of via media, with no half-success, but with a victory of absolute satisfaction to countless beaming psyche! He knew what it would be! — non energy of will alone, or simply that vocalization and separation from himself which is but the first of creative activity, though that may well itself be pain — but sore enduring such as we can non conceive of, and could merely be God ‘s, in the conveying out, name it birth or development, of the God-life in the single psyche — a agony still renewed, a labor thwarted of all time by that psyche itself, obliging him to take, still at the cost of agony, the non perfectly best, merely the best possible agencies left him by the opposition of his animal. Man finds it difficult to acquire what he wants, because he does non desire the best ; God finds it difficult to give, because he would give the best, and adult male will non take it. What Jesus did, was what the Father is ever making ; the agony he endured was that of the Father from the foundation of the universe, making its flood tide in the individual of his Son. God provides the forfeit ; the forfeit is himself. He is ever, and has of all time been, giving himself to and for his animals. It lies in the really kernel of his creative activity of them. The worst unorthodoxy, following to that of spliting faith and righteousness, is to split the Father from the Son — in idea or feeling or action or purpose ; to stand for the Son as making that which the Father does non himself do. Jesus did nil but what the Father did and does. If Jesus suffered for work forces, it was because his Father suffers for work forces ; merely he came near to work forces through his organic structure and their senses, that he might convey their liquors near to his Father and their Father, so giving them life, and losing what could be lost of his ain. He is God our Jesus: it is because God is our Jesus that Jesus is our Saviour. The God and Father of Jesus Christ could ne’er perchance be satisfied with less than giving himself to his ain! The disbeliever may easy conceive of a better God than the common divinity of the state offers him ; but non the lovingest bosom that of all time beat can even reflect the length and comprehensiveness and deepness and tallness of that love of God which shows itself in his Son — one, and of one head, with himself. The whole history is a Godhead torment to give godly life to animals. The result of that torment, the triumph of that originative and once more originative energy, will be beaming life, whereof joy indefinable is the flower. Every kid will look in the eyes of the Father, and the eyes of the Father will have the kid with an infinite embracing.
The life the Lord came to give us is a life transcending that of the highest undivine adult male, by far more than the life of that adult male exceeds the life of the animate being the least human. More and more of it is for each who will have it, and to infinity. The Father has given to the Son to hold life in himself ; that life is our light. We know life merely as visible radiation ; it is the life in us that makes us see. All the growing of the Christian is the more and more life he is having. At first his faith may barely be distinguishable from the mere prudent desire to salvage his psyche ; but at last he loses that really psyche in the glorification of love, and so saves it ; self becomes but the cloud on which the white visible radiation of God divides into harmoniousnesss indefinable.
‘In the thick of life we are in decease, ‘ said one ; it is more true that in the thick of decease we are in life. Life is the lone world ; what work forces call decease is but a shadow — a word for that which can non be — a negation, owing the really thought of itself to that which it would deny. But for life there could be no decease. If God were non, there would non even be nil. Not even nothingness preceded life. Nothingness owes its really thought to existence.
One signifier of the inquiry between affair and spirit is, which was foremost, and caused the other — things or ideas ; whether things without idea caused idea, or thought without things caused things. To those who can non doubt that idea was foremost, causally predating the earliest stuff show, it is easy plain that decease can be the remedy for nil, that the remedy for everything must be life — that the ailments which come with being, are from its imperfectness, non of itself — that what we need is more of it. We who are, have nil to make with decease ; our dealingss are entirely with life. The thing that can mourn can mourn merely from deficiency ; it can non mourn because of being, but because of non adequate being. We are vass of life, non yet full of the vino of life ; where the vino does non make, there the clay clefts, and achings, and is distressed. Who would therefore pour out the vino that is at that place, alternatively of make fulling to the lip with more vino! All the being must partake of indispensable being ; life must be assisted, upheld, comforted, every portion, with life. Life is the jurisprudence, the nutrient, the necessity of life. Life is everything. Many doubtless mistake the joy of life for life itself ; and, hankering after the joy, languish with a thirst at one time hapless and inextinguishable ; but even that thirst points to the one spring. These love ego, non life, and self is but the shadow of life. When it is taken for life itself, and set as the adult male ‘s Centre, it becomes a unrecorded decease in the adult male, a Satan he worships as his God ; the worm of the decease eternal he clasps to his bosom as his one joy!
The psyche compact of harmoniousnesss has more life, a larger being, than the psyche consumed of attentions ; the sage is a larger life than the buffoon ; the poet is more alive than the adult male whose life flows out that money may come in ; the adult male who loves his chap is boundlessly more alive than he whose enterprise is to laud himself above him ; the adult male who strives to be better, than he who longs for the congratulations of the many ; but the adult male to whom God is all in all, who feels his life-roots hid with Christ in God, who knows himself the heir of all wealth and universes and ages, yea, of power indispensable and in itself, that adult male has begun to be alive so.
Let us in all the problems of life remember — that our one deficiency is life — that what we need is more life — more of the life-making presence in us doing us more, and more mostly, alive. When most oppressed, when most weary of life, as our disbelief would give voice it, allow us bethink ourselves that it is in truth the inroad and presence of decease we are weary of. When most inclined to kip, allow us bestir ourselves to populate. Of all things let us avoid the false safety of a weary prostration, a hopeless giving to things as they are. It is the life in us that is discontented ; we need more of what is discontented, non more of the cause of its discontent. Discontent, I repeat, is the life in us that has non plenty of itself, is non plenty to itself, so calls for more. He has the triumph who, in the thick of hurting and failing, cries out, non for decease, non for the rest of forgetfulness, but for strength to battle ; for more power, more consciousness of being, more God in him ; who, when sorest wounded, says with Sir Andrew Barton in the old lay: —
Battle on my work forces, says Sir Andrew Barton, I am hurt, but I am non slain ; I ‘ll put me down and shed blood awhile, And so I ‘ll lift and contend once more ;
— and that with no cockamamie impression of playing the hero — what have animals like us to make with gallantry who are non yet hardly honorable! — but because so to battle is the truth, and the lone manner.
If, in the extreme of our exhaustion, there should come to us, as to Elijah when he slept in the desert, an angel to bestir us, and demo us the waiting staff of life and H2O, how would we transport ourselves? Would we, in swoon involuntariness to lift and eat, answer, ‘Lo I am weary unto decease! The conflict is gone from me! It is lost, or unworth gaining! The universe is excessively much for me! Its forces will non mind me! They have worn me out! I have wrought no redemption even for my ain, and ne’er should work any, were I to populate for of all time! It is adequate ; allow me now return whence I came ; allow me be gathered to my male parents and be at remainder! ‘ ? I should be loth to believe that, if the enemy, in recognizable form, came howling upon us, we would non, like the red-cross knight, lurch, heavy blade in cool arm, to run into him ; but, in the infirmity of defeated attempt, it wants yet more religion to lift and partake of the nutrient that shall convey back more attempt, more parturiency, more fatigue. The true adult male trusts in a strength which is non his, and which he does non experience, does non even ever desire ; believes in a power that seems far from him, which is yet at the root of his weariness itself and his demand of remainder — remainder as far from decease as is labour. To swear in the strength of God in our failing ; to state, ‘I am weak: so allow me be: God is strong ; ‘ to seek from him who is our life, as the natural, simple remedy of all that is awry with us, power to make, and be, and live, even when we are weary, — this is the triumph that overcometh the universe. To believe in God our strength in the face of all looking denial, to believe in him out of the bosom of failing and unbelief, in malice of numbness and fatigue and lassitude ; to believe in the unsleeping existent, through all the stupefying, enervating, falsifying dream ; to will to wake, when the really being seems athirst for a godless rest ; — these are the broken stairss up to the high Fieldss where rest is but a signifier of strength, strength but a signifier of joy, joy but a signifier of love. ‘I am weak, ‘ says the true psyche, ‘but non so weak that I would non be strong ; non so sleepy that I would non see the Sun rise ; non so feeble but that I would walk! Thankss be to him who perfects strength in failing, and gives to his beloved while they sleep! ‘
If we will but allow our God and Father work his will with us, there can be no bound to his expansion of our being, to the inundation of life with which he will overrun our consciousness. We have no construct of what life might be, of how huge the consciousness of which we could be made capable. Many can remember some minute in which life seemed richer and fuller than of all time earlier ; to some, such minutes arrive largely in dreams: shall soul, wake up or asleep, infold a cloud nine greater than its Life, the life God, can seal, perpetuate, enlarge? Can the human dusk of a dream be capable of bring forthing or keeping a Fuller life than the forenoon of Godhead activity? Surely God could at any minute spring to a psyche, by a word to that psyche, by take a breathing afresh into the secret caves of its being, a sense of life before which the most exulting rapture of earthly victory would blanch to ashes! If of all time sunlit, sail-crowded sea, under bluish Eden flecked with wind-chased white, filled your psyche as with a new gift of life, think what sense of being must be yours, if he whose idea has but fringed its garment with the effusion of such a show, take his residence with you, and while believing the gladfulness of a God inside your being, allow you cognize and experience that he is transporting you as a male parent in his bosom!
I have been talking as if life and the consciousness of it were one ; but the consciousness of life is non life ; it is merely the result of life. The existent life is that which is of and by itself — is life because it wills itself — which is, in the active, non the inactive sense: this can merely be God. But in us there ought to be a life letter writer to the life that is God ‘s ; in us besides must be the life that wills itself — a life in so far resembling the self-existent life and partaking of its image, that it has a portion in its ain being. There is an original act possible to the adult male, which must originate the world of his being. He must populate in and by willing to populate. A tree lives ; I barely doubt it has some obscure consciousness, known by but non to itself, merely to the God who made it ; I trust that life in its lowest signifiers is on the manner to believe and blessedness, is in the procedure of that separation, so to talk, from God, in which consists the creative activity of life psyches ; but the life of these lower signifiers is non life in the high sense — in the sense in which the word is used in the Bible: true life knows and regulations itself ; the ageless life is life come awake. The life of the most elevated of the animate beings is non such whatever it may go, and nevertheless I may decline to believe their destiny and being fixed as we see them. But every bit small as any adult male or adult female would be inclined to name the being of the Canis familiaris, looking unusual deficiency out of his pensive eyes, an being to be satisfied with — his life an terminal sufficient in itself, as small could I, looking on the human pleasance, the human polish, the common human enterprise around me, consent to see them as worthy the name of life. What in them is true dwells amidst an undisputed corruptness, demanding penitence and labor and supplication for its devastation. The status of most work forces and adult females seems to me a life in decease, an residence in unwhited burial chambers, a ownership of shriveling signifiers by liquors that sleep, and babble in their dreams. That they do non experience it so, is nil. The sow wallowing in the quag may justly asseverate it her manner of being clean, but theirs is non the life of the God-born. The twenty-four hours must come when they will conceal their faces with such shame as the good adult male yet feels at the memory of the clip when he lived like them. There is nil for adult male worthy to be called life, but the life ageless — God ‘s life, that is, after his grade shared by the adult male made to be ageless besides. For he is in the image of God, intended to partake of the life of the most high, to be alive as he is alive. Of this life the result and the visible radiation is righteousness, love, grace, truth ; but the life itself is a thing that will non be defined, even as God will non be defined: it is a power, the formless cause of signifier. It has no bounds whereby to be defined. It shows itself to the psyche that is hungering and thirsting after righteousness, but that psyche can non demo it to another, salvage in the polishing of its ain visible radiation. The nescient psyche understands by this life eternal merely an eternal elongation of consciousness ; what God means by it is a being like his ain, a being beyond the onslaught of decay or decease, a being so indispensable that it has no relation whatever to nothingness ; a something which is, and can ne’er travel to that which is non, for with that it ne’er had to make, but came out of the bosom of Life, the bosom of God, the fountain of being ; an being partaking of the godly nature, and holding nil in common, any more than the Eternal himself, with what can go through or discontinue: God owes his being to no 1, and his kid has no Godhead but his Father.
This life, this ageless life, consists for adult male in absolute unity with God and all godly manners of being, unity with every stage of right and harmoniousness. It consists in a love every bit deep as it is cosmopolitan, every bit witting as it is indefinable ; a love that can no more be reasoned about than life itself — a love whose presence is its all-sufficing cogent evidence and justification, whose absence is an eliminating defect: he who has it non can non believe in it: how should decease believe in life, though all the birds of God are singing jubilant over the empty grave! The delectation of such a being, the luster of a consciousness hotfooting from the broad unfastened doors of the fountain of being, the rapture of the religious sense into which the rush of life indispensable, immortal, increate, flows in soundless fulness from the bosom of Black Marias — what may it, what must it non be, in the great twenty-four hours of God and the single psyche!
What so is our practical relation to the life original? What have we to make towards the attaining to the Resurrection from the dead? If we did non do, could non hold made ourselves, how can we, now we are made, make anything at the unknown roots of our being? What relation of witting integrity can be betwixt the self-existent God, and existences who live at the will of another, existences who could non decline to be — can non even discontinue to be, but must, at the will of that other, travel on life, weary of what is non life, able to asseverate their relation to life merely by declining to be content with what is non life?
The self-existent God is that other by whose will we live ; so the links of the integrity must already be, and can but necessitate to be brought together. For the nexus in our being wherewith to shut the circle of immortal unity with the Father, we must of class hunt the deepest of adult male ‘s nature: there merely, in all confidence, can it be found. And there we do happen it. For the will is the deepest, the strongest, the divinest thing in adult male ; so, I presume, is it in God, for such we find it in Jesus Christ. Here, and here merely, in the relation of the two volitions, God ‘s and his ain, can a adult male come into critical contact — on the ageless thought, in no nonreversible integrity of completest dependance, but in willed harmoniousness of double unity — with the All-in-all. When a adult male can and does wholly state, ‘Not my will, but thine be done ‘ — when he so wills the will of God as to make it, so is he one with God — one, as a true boy with a true male parent. When a adult male wills that his being be conformed to the being of his beginning, which is the life in his life, doing and bearing his life, hence perfectly and merely of its sort, one with it more and deeper than words or figures can state — to the life which is itself, merely more of itself, and more than itself, doing itself — when the adult male therefore accepts his ain causation life, and sets himself to populate the will of that doing life, meekly eager after the privileges of his beginning, — therefore having God, he becomes, in the act, a sharer of the godly nature, a true boy of the life God, and an inheritor of all he possesses: by the obeisance of a boy, he receives into himself the really life of the Father. Obedience is the connection of the links of the ageless unit of ammunition. Obedience is but the other side of the creative will. Will is God ‘s will, obeisance is adult male ‘s will ; the two make one. The root-life, cognizing good the 1000 troubles it would convey upon him, has created, and goes on making other lives, that, though incapable of self-being, they may, by willed obeisance, portion in the cloud nine of his indispensable self-ordained being. If we do the will of God, ageless life is ours — no mere continuity of being, for that in itself is worthless every bit snake pit, but a being that is one with the indispensable Life, and so within his range to make full with the abundant and eternal out-goings of his love. Our souls shall be vass of all time turning, and of all time as they grow, filled with the more and more life proceeding from the Father and the Son, from God the ordaining, and God the obedient. What the delectation of the being, what the copiousness of the life he came that we might hold, we can ne’er cognize until we have it. But even now to the sanctum fancy it may sometimes look excessively glorious to back up — as if we must decease of really life — of more being than we could bear — to wake up to a yet higher life, and be filled with a vino which our psyches were so far excessively weak to keep! To be for one minute aware of such pure simple love towards but one of my chaps as I trust I shall one twenty-four hours hold towards each, must of itself conveying a sense of life such as the extreme attempt of my imaginativeness can but feebly shadow now — a mighty glorification of consciousness! — non to be ever present, so, for my love, and non my glorification in that love, is my life. There would be, even in that one love, in the simple pureness of a individual fondness such as we were created to bring forth, and intended to care for, towards all, an enlargement of life unexpressible, ineffable. For we are made for love, non for ego. Our neighbor is our safety ; self is our demon-foe. Every adult male is the image of God to every adult male, and in proportion as we love him, we shall cognize the sacred fact. The cherished thing to human psyche is, and one twenty-four hours shall be known to be, every human psyche. And if it be so between adult male and adult male, how will it non be betwixt the adult male and his shaper, between the kid and his ageless Father, between the created and the making Life? Must non the glorification of being be infinitely redoubled in the infinite love of the animal — for all love is infinite — to the infinite God, the great one life, than whom is no other — merely shadows, lovely shadows of him!
Reader to whom my words seem those of rising prices and foolish exhilaration, it can be nil to thee to be told that I seem to myself to talk merely the words of truth and sobriety ; but what if the cause why they seem other to thy head be — non simply that thou art non whole, but that thy being nowise thirsts after harmoniousness, that thou art non of the truth, that 1000 hast non yet begun to populate? How should the reveler, publishing worn and wasted from the hangouts where the violent seize joy by force to happen her perish in their weaponries — how should such reveler, I say, break Forth and sing with the boies of the forenoon, when the ocean of light explosions from the fountain of the E? As small canst 1000, with thy head full of junior-grade attentions, or still more junior-grade aspirations, understand the groaning and travailing of the creative activity. It may so be that thou art candidly wishful of salvaging thy ain deplorable psyche, but as yet thou canst know but small of thy demand of him who is the first and the last and the populating one.