O, raise us up, return to us again! And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. So didst thou travel on life's common way WORDSWORTH. MAN'S PROPER GOOD. GOD hath suited every creature He hath made with a convenient good, to which it tends, and in the obtainment of which it rests and is satisfied. Natural bodies have all their own natural place, whither, if not hindered, they move incessantly till they be in it; and they declare, by resting there, that they are, as I may say, where they would be. Sensitive creatures are carried to seek a sensitive good, as agreeable to their rank in being, and, attaining that, aim no further. Now, in this is the excellency of man, that he is made capable of a communion with his Maker, and, because capable of it, is unsatisfied without it: the soul, being cut out (so to speak) to that largeness, cannot be filled with less. Though he is fallen from his right to that good, and from all right desire of it, yet not from a capacity of it, no, nor from a necessity of it for the answering and filling of his capacity. Though the heart, once gone from God, turns continually further away from Him, and moves not towards Him till it be renewed, yet even in that wandering it retains that natural relation to God, as its centre, that it hath no true rest elsewhere, nor can by any means find it. It is made for Him, and is therefore still restless till it meet with Him. It is true, the natural man takes much pains to quiet his heart by other things, and digests many vexations with hopes of contentment in the end, and accomplishment of some design he hath; but still the heart misgives. Many times he attains not the thing he seeks; but, if he do, yet he never attains the satisfaction he seeks and expects in it; but only learns from that to desire some THE SOUL'S PROPER HOME. 151 thing further, and still hunts on after a fancy, drives his own shadow before him, and never overtakes it; and if he did, yet it is but a shadow. And so in running from God, besides the sad end, he carries an interwoven punishment with his sin, the natural disquiet and vexation of his spirit, fluttering to and fro, and "finding no rest for the sole of his foot." We study to debase our souls, and make them content with less than they are made for; yea, we strive to make them carnal, that they may be pleased with sensible things. And in this men attain a brutish content for a time, forgetting their higher good. But, certainly, we cannot think it sufficient, and that no more were to be desired beyond ease and plenty, and pleasures of sense; for then a beast, in good case and a good pasture, might contest with us in point of happiness, and carry it away; for that sensitive good he enjoys without sin, and without the vexation that is mixed with us in all. These things are too gross and heavy. The soul, the immortal soul, descended from Heaven, must either be more happy or remain miserable. The highest, the increated Spirit, is the proper good, "the Father of spirits," that pure and full good which raises the soul above itself; whereas all other things draw it down below itself. So, then, it is never well with the soul but when it is near unto God, yea, in its union with Him, married to Him: mismatching itself elsewhere, it hath never any thing but shame and sorrow. ROBERT LEIGHTON: 1611–1684 THE SOUL'S PROPER HOME. THE happiness of the soul consists in the exercise of the affections; not in sensual pleasures, not in activity, not in excitement, not in self-esteem, not in the consciousness of power, not in knowledge: in none of these things lies our happiness, but in our affections being elicited, employed, supplied. As hunger and thirst, as taste, sound, and smell, are the channels through which this bodily frame receives pleasure; so the affections are the instruments by which the soul has pleasure. When they are exercised duly, it is happy; when they are undeveloped, restrained, or thwarted, it is not happy. This is our real and true bliss, not to know, or to affect, or to pursue; but to love, to hope, to joy, to admire, to revere, to adore. Our real and true bliss lies in the possession of those objects on which our hearts may rest and be satisfied. Now, if this be so, here is at once a reason for saying that the thought of God, and nothing short of it, is the happiness of man : for though there is much besides to serve as subject of knowledge, or motive for action, or instrument of excitement, yet the affections require something more vast and more enduring than any thing created. What is novel and sudden excites, but does not influence; what is pleasurable or useful raises no awe; self moves no reverence, and mere knowledge kindles no love. He alone is sufficient for the heart who made it. I do not say, of course, that nothing short of the Almighty Creator can awaken and answer to our love, reverence, and trust: man can do this for man. Man doubtless is an object to rouse his brother's love, and repays it in his measure. Nay, it is a great duty, one of the two chief duties of religion, thus to be minded towards our neighbour. But I am not speaking here of what we can do, or ought to do, but what it is our happiness to do; and surely it may be said that, though the love of the brethren, the love of all men, be one half of our obedience, yet, exercised by itself, were that possible, which it is not, it were no part of our reward. And for this reason, if for no other, that our hearts require something more permanent and uniform than man can be. We gain much for a time from fellowship with each other. It is a relief to us, as fresh air to the fainting, or meat and drink to the hungry, or a flood of tears to the heavy in mind. It is a soothing comfort to have those whom we may make our confidants; a comfort to have those to whom we may confess our faults; a comfort to have those to whom we may look for sympathy. Love of home and family in these and other ways is sufficient to make this life tolerable to the multitude of men, which otherwise it would not be; but still, after all, our affections exceed such exercise of them, and demand what is more stable. Do not all men die? are they not taken from us? are they not as uncertain as the grass of the field? We do not give our hearts to things inanimate, because these have no permanence in them. We do not place our affections on Sun, Moon, and stars, or this rich and fair Earth, because all things material come to nought, and THE BLESSINGS OF HOME. 153 vanish like day and night. Man, too, though he has an intelligence within him, yet in his best estate is altogether vanity. If our happiness consists in our affections being employed and recompensed, man that is born of a woman " cannot be our happiness: for how can he be the stay of another, who "continueth not in one stay" himself? 66 But there is another reason why God alone is the happiness of our souls: The contemplation of Him, and nothing but it, is able fully to open and relieve the mind, to unlock, occupy, and fix our affections. We may indeed love things created with great intenseness; but such affection, when disjoined from the love of the Creator, is like a stream running in a narrow channel, impetuous, vehement, turbid. The heart runs out, as it were, only at one door; it is not an expanding of the whole man. Created natures cannot open us, or elicit the ten thousand mental senses which belong to us, and through which we really live. None but the presence of our Maker can enter us; for to none besides can the whole heart in all its thoughts and feelings be unlocked and subjected. We know that even our nearest friends enter into us but partially, and hold intercourse with us only at times; whereas the consciousness of a perfect and enduring Presence, and it alone, keeps the heart open. Withdraw the Object on which it rests, and it will relapse again into its state of confinement and constraint; and in proportion as it is limited, either to certain seasons or to certain affections, the heart is straightened and distressed. If it be not overbold to say it, He who is Infinite can alone be its measure; He alone can answer to the mysterious assemblage of feelings and thoughts which it has within. JOHN HENRY NEWMAN: 1801 THE BLESSINGS OF HOME. OUR safest way of coming into communion with mankind is through our own household. For there our sorrow and regret at the failings of the bad are in proportion to our love, while our familiar intercourse with the good has a secretly-assimilating influence upon our characters. The domestic man has an independence of thought which puts him at ease in society, and a cheerfulness and benevolence of feeling which seem to ray out from him, and to diffuse a pleasurable sense over those near him, like a soft, bright day. As domestic life strengthens a man's virtue, so does it help to a sound judgment in a right balancing of things, and gives an integrity and propriety to the whole character. God, in His goodness, has ordained that virtue should make its own enjoyment, and that, wherever a vice or frailty is rooted out, something should spring up to be a beauty and delight in its stead. But a man of a character rightly cast has his pleasures at home, which, though fitted to his highest nature, are common to him as his daily food; and he moves about his house under a continued sense of them, and is happy almost without heeding it. Women have been called angels, in love-tales and sonnets, till we have almost learned to think of Angels as little better than women. Yet a man who knows a woman thoroughly, and loves her truly, and there are women who may be so known and loved, will find, after a few years, that his relish for the grosser pleasures is lessened, and that he has grown into a fondness for the intellectual and refined without an effort, and almost unawares. He has been led on to virtue through his pleasures; and the delights of the eye, and the gentle play of that passion which is the most inward and romantic of our nature, and which keeps much of its character amidst the concerns of life, have held him in a kind of spiritualized existence he shares his very being with one who, a creature of this world, and with something of this world's frailties, is Yet a Spirit still, and bright With all the sincerity of a companionship of feeling, cares, sorrows, and enjoyments, her presence is as the presence of a purer being; and there is that in her nature which seems to bring him nearer to a better world. She is, as it were, linked to Angels, and in his exalted moments he feels himself held by the same tie. Men who feel deeply show little of their deepest feelings to each other. But, aside from the close union and common interests and concerns between husband and wife, a woman seems to be a crea |