for rest, so surely will that divine love not be satisfied until it
has gathered all its children to its breast and made them partakers
of itself.

There are many, many hopes that put the men who cherish them to
shame, partly because they are never fulfilled, partly because,
though fulfilled, they are disappointed, since the reality is so much
less than the anticipation. Who does not know that the spray of
blossom on the tree looks far more lovely hanging above our heads
than when it is grasped by us? Who does not know that the fish
struggling on the hook seems heavier than it turns out to be when
lying on the bank? We go to the rainbow's end, and we find, not a pot
of gold, but a huddle of cold, wet mist. There is one man that is
entitled to say: 'To-morrow shall be as this day, and much more
abundant.' Who is he? Only the man whose hope is in the Lord his God.
If we open our hearts by faith, then these three lines of sequence of
which we have been speaking will converge, and we shall have the hope
that is the shining apex of 'being justified by faith,' and the hope
that is the calm result of trouble and agitation, and the hope that,
travelling further and higher than anything in our inward experience
or our outward discipline, grasps the key-word of the universe, 'God
is love,' and triumphantly makes sure that 'neither death nor life,
nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor
things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall
be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus
our Lord.'