The immediate result of it all is that the work which I can do and
desire to do, and which, if anything, I seem to have been sent into the
world to do, is delayed and hindered. No good can come out of the
things which I am going to spend the hours in trying to mend. Neither
will any of the people concerned profit by my example in the matter,
because they will only have their confidence in my judgment and
amiability diminished.

And so I walk, as I say, along the sandy lanes, with the fresh air and
the still sunlight all about me, kept by my own unquiet heart from the
peace that seems to be all about me within the reach of my hand. The
sense of God's compassion for his feeble creatures does not help me;
how can he compassionate the littleness for which he is himself
responsible? It is at such moments that God seems remote, careless,
indifferent, occupied in his own designs; strong in his ineffable
strength, leaving the frail and sensitive creatures whom he has made,
to whom he has given hopes and dreams too large for their feeble nerves
and brains, to stumble onwards over vale and hill without a comforting
smile or a sustaining hand. Would that I could feel otherwise! He gives
us the power of framing an ideal of hopefulness, peace, sweetness, and
strength; and then he mocks at our attempts to reach them. I do not ask
to see every step of the road plainly; I only long to know that we are
going forwards, and not backwards, I must submit, I know; but I cannot
believe that he only demands a tame and sullen submission; rather he
must desire that I should face him bravely and fearlessly, in hope and
confidence, as a loving and beloved son.