day, in a moment of illumination, he awakens to the great realization
that he can make it simple,--never quite simple, but always simpler.
There are a thousand mysteries of right and wrong that have baffled the
wise men of the ages. There are depths in the great fundamental
questions of the human race that no plummet of philosophy has ever
sounded. There are wild cries of honest hunger for truth that seek to
pierce the silence beyond the grave, but to them ever echo back,--only
a repetition of their unanswered cries.

To us all, comes, at times, the great note of questioning despair that
darkens our horizon and paralyzes our effort: "If there really be a
God, if eternal justice really rule the world," we say, "why should
life be as it is? Why do some men starve while others feast; why does
virtue often languish in the shadow while vice triumphs in the
sunshine; why does failure so often dog the footsteps of honest effort,
while the success that comes from trickery and dishonor is greeted with
the world's applause? How is it that the loving father of one family is
taken by death, while the worthless incumbrance of another is spared?
Why is there so much unnecessary pain, sorrowing and suffering in the
world--why, indeed, should there be any?"

Neither philosophy nor religion can give any final satisfactory answer
that is capable of logical demonstration, of absolute proof. There is
ever, even after the best explanations, a residuum of the unexplained.
We must then fall back in the eternal arms of faith, and be wise enough
to say, "I will not be disconcerted by these problems of life, I will
not permit them to plunge me into doubt, and to cloud my life with
vagueness and uncertainty. Man arrogates much to himself when he
demands from the Infinite the full solution of all His mysteries. I
will found my life on the impregnable rock of a simple fundamental