Nay, he has a special tenderness of love towards thee for that thou art in the dark and hast no light, and his heart is glad when thou dost arise and say, “Thou art my God. I am thy child. Forsake me not.” Then fold the arms of thy faith, and wait in quietness until light goes up in thy darkness. 

God does not, by the instant gift of his Spirit, make us always desire good, love purity, and aspire after him and his will. He wants to make us in his own image, choosing the good, refusing the evil.

For God made our individuality as well as, and a greater marvel than, our dependence; made our apartness from himself, that freedom should bind us divinely dearer to himself, with a new and inscrutable marvel of love;...

 But what is to be done when all feeling is gone? When a man does not know whether he believes or not, whether he loves or not? When art, poetry, religion are nothing to him, so swallowed up is he in pain, or mental depression, or temptation, or he knows not what. It seems to him then that God does not care for him, and certainly he does not care for God.

Without this last trial of all, the temptations of our Master had not been so full as the human cup could hold; there would have been one region through which we had to pass wherein we might call aloud upon our Captain-brother, and there would be no voice or hearing: he had avoided the fatal spot!

It is with the holiest fear that we should approach the terrible fact of the sufferings of our Lord. Let no one think that those were less because he was more...