"To wait in uncertainty!" she said. "Not making up one's mind."
"In uncertainty on many lesser points. There was plenty that we could be quite sure about. For instance,—we were sure of being on the right road, because we were sure of our guide; and we were sure of the home to which we were going."
Thyrza's eyes shone.
"And we are sure now of—?" she said in a questioning tone.
"Of our Father's love. Of Christ, our Crucified and Risen Lord. Of the Holy Spirit, promised to us. Of the Home which Christ is preparing. Of the Guide who leads us. Of the Pathway He points out. Of the Means of Grace provided . . . My dear, think for yourself of all that we do or may know with a certain knowledge. Don't be distressed to find a hundred lesser questions about which we cannot be sure, and about which the best men must differ, because we have not, any of us, full daylight in which to make out all details."
"But if Christ is our Light—" she said.
"He is our Light; but the dawn comes to each one gradually,—sometimes very slowly indeed. I suppose the Light vouchsafed is often so dim because we don't really care to have it more fully. And there is the question too of our own defective eyesight. That has to be cured—gradually."
Thyrza pondered again.
"About the Means of Grace,—" she said. "Can one be sure there? People do think so differently."
"People think very differently about the scientific nature of sunshine," I said, "yet we all agree on the need that man should use it. The make of sunshine is practically a lesser question to us."