It is not ours to search the heart and reins;—
That is no task for dust, but for its ruler;—
Yet dare I freely, firmly, speak my hope:
He scarce stands crippled now before his God!
[The gathering disperses. Peer Gynt remains behind, alone.
Peer.
Now that is what I call Christianity!
Nothing to seize on one’s mind unpleasantly.—
And the topic—immovably being oneself,—
That the pastor’s homily turned upon,—