Does it not lead us up hither: that the devotion of God to his
creatures is perfect? that he does not think about himself but about
them? that he wants nothing for himself, but finds his blessedness in
the outgoing of blessedness.

Ah! it is a terrible--shall it be a lonely glory this? We will draw
near with our human response, our abandonment of self in the faith of
Jesus. He gives himself to us--shall not we give ourselves to him?
Shall we not give ourselves to each other whom he loves?

For when is the child the ideal child in our eyes and to our hearts? Is
it not when with gentle hand he takes his father by the beard, and
turns that father's face up to his brothers and sisters to kiss? when
even the lovely selfishness of love-seeking has vanished, and the heart
is absorbed in loving?

In this, then, is God like the child: that he is simply and altogether
our friend, our father--our more than friend, father, and mother--our
infinite love-perfect God. Grand and strong beyond all that human
imagination can conceive of poet-thinking and kingly action, he is
delicate beyond all that human tenderness can conceive of husband or
wife, homely beyond all that human heart can conceive of father or
mother. He has not two thoughts about us. With him all is simplicity of
purpose and meaning and effort and end--namely, that we should be as he
is, think the same thoughts, mean the same things, possess the same
blessedness. It is so plain that any one may see it, every one ought to
see it, every one shall see it. It must be so. He is utterly true and
good to us, nor shall anything withstand his will.

How terribly, then, have the theologians misrepresented God in the