solitude, made the more dreary because of remembered companionship.
And much of our joy depends upon the goodwill and help of our
fellows, and they can snatch away all that so depends. They can hedge
up our road and make it uncomfortable and sad for us in many ways,
but no man but myself can put a roof over my head to shut me out from
God and Christ; and as long as I have a clear sky overhead, it
matters very little how high may be the walls that foes or hostile
circumstances pile around me, and how close they may press upon me.
And much of our joy necessarily depends upon and fluctuates with
external circumstances of a hundred different kinds, as we all only
too well know. But we do not need to have all our joy fed from these
surface springs. We may dig deeper down if we like. If we are
Christians, we have, like some beleaguered garrison in a fortress, a
well in the courtyard that nobody can get at, and which never can run
dry. 'Your joy no man taketh from you.'

As long as we have Christ, we cannot be desolate. If He and I were
alone in the universe, or, paradoxical as it may sound, if He and I
were alone, and the universe were not, I should have all that I
needed and my joy would be full, if I loved Him as I ought to do.

So, my brother! let us see to it that we dig deep enough for the
foundation of our blessedness, and that it is on Christ and nothing
less infinite, less eternal, less unchangeable, that we repose for
the inward blessedness which nothing outside of us can touch. That is
the blessedness which we may all possess, 'For I am persuaded that
neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers,
nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor
any other creature, shall be able to separate us' from the eye and
the heart of the risen Christ who lives for us. But remember, though