"In taking that attitude, George, aren't you limiting the power of God?"
said Mrs. Waring.

"How does it limit the power of God, mother," her son-in-law asked, "to
discover that he chooses to work by laws? The most suicidal tendency in
religious bodies today is their mediaeval insistence on what they are
pleased to call the supernatural. Which is the more marvellous--that God
can stop the earth and make the sun appear to stand still, or that he can
construct a universe of untold millions of suns with planets and
satellites, each moving in its orbit, according to law; a universe
wherein every atom is true to a sovereign conception? And yet this
marvel of marvels--that makes God in the twentieth century infinitely
greater than in the sixteenth--would never have been discovered if the
champions of theology had had their way."

Mrs. Waring smiled a little.

"You are too strong for me, George," she said, "but you mustn't expect
an old woman to change."

"Mother, dear," cried Eleanor, rising and laying her hand on Mrs.
Waring's cheek, "we don't want you to change. It's ourselves we wish to
change, we wish for a religious faith like yours, only the same teaching
which gave it to you is powerless for us. That's our trouble. We have
only to look at you," she added, a little wistfully, "to be sure there is
something--something vital in Christianity, if we could only get at it,
something that does not depend upon what we have been led to believe is
indispensable. George, and men like him, can only show the weakness in
the old supports. I don't mean that they aren't doing the world a