A child is a deep mystery. It has a life of its own, which it reveals to no one unless it meets with sympathy. Snub its first halting confidences concerning the inner life, or laugh at them, or be cross or indifferent, and you close the door against yourself forever. Now there is no faculty given us that the soul can spare. If we destroy in childhood the faculty of apprehending the spiritual or supernatural, as detrimental to this life, if there be left
“... no Power Divine within us,
How can God’s divineness win us?”
CHAPTER II
AT SHIPLEY, YORKSHIRE
“Sweet childish days that were as long
As twenty days are now.”
. . . . . . . . . .
“A child to whom was given