behind it in what we really feel and know.

To some of us, indeed, the Christian experiences seem further away
than when we took the first steps in the Christian life. That life
has not opened out as we had hoped. We do not regret our religion,
but we are disappointed with it. There are times, perhaps, when
wandering notes form a diviner music stray into our spirits; but
these experiences come at few and fitful moments. We have no sense
of possession in them. When they visit us, it is as surprise.
When they leave us, it is without explanation. When we wish their
return, we do not know how to secure it.

All of which means a religion without solid base, and a poor and
flickering life. It means a great bankruptcy in those experiences
which give Christianity its personal solace and make it attractive
to the world, and a great uncertainty as to any remedy. It is as
if we knew everything about health--except the way to get it.

I am quite sure that the difficulty does not lie in the fact that
men are not in earnest. This is simply not the fact. All around
us Christians are wearing themselves out in trying to be better.
The amount of spiritual longing in the world--in the hearts
of unnumbered thousands of men and women in whom we should never
suspect it; among the wise and thoughtful, among the young and
gay, who seldom assuage and never betray their thirst--this is one
of the most wonderful and touching facts of life. It is not more
heart that is needed, but more light; not more force, but a wiser
direction to be given to very real energies already there.

The usual advice when one asks for counsel on these questions is,