O Father, touch the East and light
The light that shone when Hope was born.
It is in Christmas that Tennyson found the birth of Hope. It is Christmas that, as life goes on, bids us never despair—of our own or of human nature around us.
To a friend at Cambridge.
Hotel Belvedere, St. Moritz: December 30, 1901.
I shall never forget this last Christmas Day, for your letter came in the evening. I read it again and again, and wonder at it more each time I read it. I can't tell you what I feel about it. I knew that you more or less liked and respected me, but I didn't know that you loved me. I've got what I wanted. When you merely respected me, I dreaded the day when you would find that I was different to what you thought I was. But now I feel I am safe phobos ouk estin en te agape, however imperfect you find me. I know now that I can trust you not to throw me off. And love is not extreme to mark what is amiss, hoti agape kaluptei plethos amartion. I can't thank you for your kindness, but I thank God for giving me the most precious gift in the world, a human soul 'to love and be loved by for ever.' As I look at your letter I feel a mere worm, and my one wonder is how on earth a man like you can call me your friend. I can't thank you; but I'll do my best to live up to the standard you expect of me, and to be a true friend to you. And my idea of friendship is, as you know, prayer. I can't, worse luck, do much for you, but I do pray for you, and 'whatever ye ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive.' It has been truly said that the how, the where, and the when are not told us, but only the what. And I am quite certain that every prayer I offer for you is heard and answered, when I believe what I say; but the manner, the place, and the occasion of the answer—of these things I know nothing. I am sure that God loves to see us happy, and the pure joy of the knowledge that such a man as you loves me is almost more than I can bear. It throws a new light on life here, and on that fuller life to which God is leading us hereafter; like you, thank God, I cannot complain of lack of friends, but I have never had one who has written me such a letter, full of an affection for which I crave. The worst is, I can't repay your kindness. You bring me nearer to God, you make me realise in the strangest way His affection, you make me feel the worth and mystery of a human soul. I wish I could return your help somehow or other. Do show me the way. I wish you did not find it so difficult to pray for me. I am sure you are right in going back to such a man as St. Paul for subjects of prayer. The opening chapters of his letters to the Ephesians and Colossians give the kinds of requests which it is worth making on behalf of any one. There is surely no harm in finding that, as you pray for another, your own faith is growing. There is nothing selfish in that. It is rather the result of the law didote kai dothesetai humin.
[Transcriber's note: The Greek phrases in the above paragraph were transliterated as follows: phobos—phi, omicron, beta, omicron, final sigma; ouk—omicron, upsilon, kappa; estin—epsilon, sigma, tau, iota, nu; en—epsilon, nu; te—tau, eta; agape—alpha, gamma, alpha, pi, eta; hoti—(rough breathing mark) omicron, tau, iota; agape—alpha, gamma, alpha, pi, eta; kaluptei—kappa, alpha, lambda, upsilon, pi, tau, epsilon, iota; plethos—pi, lambda, eta, theta, omicron, final sigma; amartion—alpha, mu, alpha, rho, tau, iota, omega, nu; didote—delta, iota, delta, omicron, tau, epsilon; kai—kappa, alpha, iota; dothesetai—delta, omicron, theta, eta, sigma, eta, tai, alpha, iota; humin—(rough breathing mark) upsilon, mu, iota, nu]
Your faith can only grow with exercise, and you exercise it by praying for others. You would only be selfish if you prayed for some one else in order that your own soul might be benefited.
But don't think too much of selfishness. Bring all your half selfish desires to Him who knows us through and through; and in His presence, almost unconsciously, your motives will gradually be purified. You will learn to walk in the light as He Himself is in the light. As I look back on this letter, a large part of it seems selfish. I expect much is; but, even in the selfish parts, there is something more besides. I can only just say what I feel, and ask God gradually to eliminate what is wrong. In His light I shall see light.
Life is large, and I am fearful lest, in attempting a rough and ready asceticism, I should exclude as wrong some elements which are in reality God-given. I feel that in the case of our affections and our longing for beauty. They are implanted in us, and tended and watered by One who is perfect Love and perfect Beauty. They easily lead us into sin, but that fact does not imply that they are wrong in themselves. We have to bring them to their source that He may interpret them, 'Too late have I sought thee,' said Augustine, 'thou Beauty, so ancient and so new, too late have I sought thee.' I cannot understand the mystery of your life, dearest, but I feel that all that craving for beauty is in some kind of way a craving for God. Only God demands the first place in your life before He will give you any satisfying interpretation of that aspect of His life. You must love Him for what He is—not simply because He is Beauty.
I slept and dreamed that life was Beauty,
I woke and found that life is Duty.