I said how often those words had cheered me, and how happy it is to think that all the while these graces are illumining the darkness of the heart, the dark hours are passing away, until all at once Hope steals to the casement and withdraws the shutters; and the light which has slowly been dawning all the time streams into the heart, "the love of God shed abroad by the Holy Ghost."
"But," rejoined Aunt Cotta, "we cannot ourselves bring in Experience, or reach the hand of Hope, or open the window to let in the light of love; we can only look up to God, keep firm hold of Patience, and she will bring all the rest."
"And yet," I said, "peace comes before patience, peace with God through faith in Him who was delivered for our offences. All these graces do not lead us up to God. We have access to him first, and in his presence we learn the rest."
Yes, indeed, the changes in the Wittemberg world since I left it, have been wrought by the hand of life, and not by that of death, or time, which is his shadow. For have not the brightest been wrought by the touch of the Life himself?
It is God, not time, that has mellowed our grandmother's character; it is God and not time that has smoothed the careworn wrinkles from Aunt Cotta's brow.
It is life and not death that has all but emptied the Augustinian convent, sending the monks back to their places in the world, to serve God and proclaim his gospel.
It is the water of life that is flowing through home after home in the channel of Dr. Luther's German Testament and bringing forth fruits of love, and joy, and peace.
And we know it is life and not death which is reigning in that lonely prison, wherein the child heard the resurrection hymns, and that is triumphing now in the heart of him who sang them, wherever he may be!