第55部分(第2/7 頁)

lt。　Here　are　the　words：　I　cannot　better　them　after　all　these　years；　and　they　are　as　true　to　me　now　as　they　were　then。

Ah！　we　think　much　of　the　sorrows　of　our　youth；　and　should　a　sweetheart　give　us　the　go…by；　we　fill　the　world　with　moans　and　swear　that　it　holds　no　fort　for　us。　But　when　we　bend　our　heads　before　the　shrouded　shape　of　some　lost　child；　then　it　is　that　for　the　first　time　we　learn　how　terrible　grief　can　be。　Time；　they　tell　us；　will　bring　consolation；　but　it　is　false；　for　such　sorrow　time　has　no　salves。　I　say　it　who　am　old　—　as　they　are　so　shall　they　be。　There　is　no　hope　but　faith；　there　is　no　fort　save　in　the　truth　that　love　which　might　have　withered　on　the　earth　grows　fastest　in　the　tomb；　to　flower　gloriously　in　heaven；　that　no　love　indeed　can　be　perfect　till　God　sanctifies　and　pletes　it　with　His　seal　of　death。

I　wrote　just　now　that；　for　reasons　I　hope　to　set　out　later　in　this　book；　I　believed　my　faith；　which　amongst　other　things　promises　reunion　of　the　death…divided；　to　be　a　true　faith。　Indeed；　if　it　be　otherwise；　what　a　hell　is　this　in　which　we　live。　Thrusting　from　the　memory　all　other　trials　and　sorrows；　not　for　any　finite　earthly　life　that　could　be　promised　me　would　I　endure　again　from　year　to　year　the　agony　I　have　suffered　on　the　one　count　of　this　bereavement；　which　is　after　all；　so　mon　and　everyday　a　thing。　If　ever；　in　some　dread　hour；　faith　in　all　its　forms　should　be　proved　a　dream　and　mockery；　surely　in　the　same　hour　will　sound　the　death…knell　of　all　that　is　best　in　the　educated　world。　Brutes　which　guess　of　nothing　better　can　live　happy　till　the　butcher　finds　them：　men　who　believe　can　endure　till　God　consoles　or　calls　them。　But　will　the　much…developed　man　whose　heart…strings；　like　those　of　the　Aeolian　harp；　must　thrill　and　sob　in　every　w