incense of the pines I set the honest sweat of the man whose
lifetime is the measure of his working day. "He that loveth not
his brother whom he hath seen, how shall he love God whom he hath
not seen?" wrote Blessed John, who himself loved so much that he
beheld the Lamb as it had been slain from the beginning when Adam
fell, and the City of God with light most precious. The burden of
corporate sin, the sword of corporate sorrow, the joy of corporate
righteousness; thus we become citizens in the Kingdom of God, and
companions of all his creatures. "It is not good that the man
should be alone," said the Lord God.

I live now as it were in two worlds, the world of sight, and the
world of sound; and they scarcely ever touch each other. I hear
the grind of heavy traffic, the struggle of horses on the frost-
breathed ground, the decorous jolt of omnibuses, the jangle of cab
bells, the sharp warning of bicycles at the corner, the swift
rattle of costers' carts as they go south at night with their
shouting, goading crew. All these things I hear, and more; but I
see no road, only the silent river of my heart with its tale of
wonder and years, and the white beat of seagulls' wings in strong
inquiring flight.

Sometimes there is naught to see on the waterway but a solitary
black hull, a very Stygian ferry-boat, manned by a solitary figure,
and moving slowly up under the impulse of the far-reaching sweeps.
Then the great barges pass with their coffined treasure, drawn by a
small self-righteous steam-tug. Later, lightened of their load,
and waiting on wind and tide, I see them swooping by like birds set
free; tawny sails that mind me of red-roofed Whitby with its
northern fleet; black sails as of some heedless Theseus; white