oneself and utter the voice of God. God, if there be any God,
speaks daily in a new language by the tongues of men; the thoughts
and habits of each fresh generation and each new-coined spirit
throw another light upon the universe and contain another
commentary on the printed Bibles; every scruple, every true
dissent, every glimpse of something new, is a letter of God's
alphabet; and though there is a grave responsibility for all who
speak, is there none for those who unrighteously keep silence and
conform? Is not that also to conceal and cloak God's counsel? And
how should we regard the man of science who suppressed all facts
that would not tally with the orthodoxy of the hour?

Wrong? You are as surely wrong as the sun rose this morning round
the revolving shoulder of the world. Not truth, but truthfulness,
is the good of your endeavour. For when will men receive that
first part and prerequisite of truth, that, by the order of things,
by the greatness of the universe, by the darkness and partiality of
man's experience, by the inviolate secrecy of God, kept close in
His most open revelations, every man is, and to the end of the ages
must be, wrong? Wrong to the universe; wrong to mankind; wrong to
God. And yet in another sense, and that plainer and nearer, every
man of men, who wishes truly, must be right. He is right to
himself, and in the measure of his sagacity and candour. That let
him do in all sincerity and zeal, not sparing a thought for
contrary opinions; that, for what it is worth, let him proclaim.
Be not afraid; although he be wrong, so also is the dead, stuffed
Dagon he insults. For the voice of God, whatever it is, is not
that stammering, inept tradition which the people holds. These
truths survive in travesty, swamped in a world of spiritual
darkness and confusion; and what a few comprehend and faithfully