the instinct for the Unseen is developed by exercise; obedience to our
heavenly visions sharpens the eyes of the heart. Charles Lamb pictures
his sister and himself "with a taste for religion rather than a strong
religious habit." Such people exclude themselves from the power and
peace, the limitless enrichment, of conscious friendship with the living
God.

Indeed it is not conceivable that a man can have really tasted
fellowship with the Most High without acquiring an appetite for more of
Him. The same psalmist who speaks of his soul as satisfied in God, at
once goes on, "My soul followeth hard after Thee." He who does not
become a confirmed seeker for God is not likely ever to have truly found
Him. There is something essentially irreligious in the attitude
portrayed in the biography of Horace Walpole, who, when Queen Caroline
tried to induce him to read Butler's _Analogy_, told her that his
religion was fixed, and that he had no desire either to change or to
improve it. A believer's heart is fixed; his soul is stayed on God; but
his experience is constantly expanding.

Constancy is perhaps an inaccurate word to employ of man's intercourse
with the Invisible. Even in the most stedfast and unwavering this
intercourse is characterized by

tidal movements of devoutest awe
Sinking anon to farthest ebb of doubt.

And in the world's life there are ages of faith and ages of criticism.
Both assurance and questioning appear to be necessary. Professor Royce
asserts that "a study of history shows that if there is anything that
human thought and cultivation have to be deeply thankful for, it is an