spiritual impulse must not be allowed to become the centre of a group of
specialized feelings, a devotional complex, in opposition to, or at
least alienated from, the intellectual and economic life. It must on the
contrary brim over, invading every department of the self. When the
mind's loftiest and most ideal thought, its conscious vivid aspiration,
has been united with the more robust qualities of the natural man; then,
and only then, we have the material for the making of a possible saint.

We must also remember that, important as our primitive and instinctive
life may be--and we should neither despise nor neglect it--its religious
impulses, taken alone, no more represent the full range of man's
spiritual possibilities than the life of the hunting tribe or the
African kraal represent his full social possibilities. We may, and
should, acknowledge and learn from our psychic origins. We must never be
content to rest in them. Though in many respects, mental as well as
physical, we are animals still; yet we are animals with a possible
future in the making, both corporate and individual, which we cannot yet
define. All other levels of life assure us that the impulsive nature is
peculiarly susceptible to education. Not only can the whole group of
instincts which help self-fulfilment be directed to higher levels,
united and subdued to a dominant emotional interest; but merely
instinctive actions can, by repetition and control, be raised to the
level of habit and be given improved precision and complexity. This, of
course, is a primary function of devotional exercises; training the
first blind instinct for God to the complex responses of the life of
prayer. Instinct is at best a rough and ready tool of life: practice is
required if it is to produce its best results. Observe, for instance,
the poor efforts of the young bird to escape capture; and compare this
with the finished performance of the parent.[79] Therefore in estimating
man's capacity for spiritual response, we must reckon not only his