“Whoe’er aspires unweariedly
Is not beyond redeeming.”
May we not ask if the experience distinctively called Christian is not an actuality, the highest blossom of religious growth—if it is not a realization possible for all, if it is not an ideal sweetly, nay, transcendently, inviting? One who has read the following lines from Goethe will never forget them; he has had a glimpse of the Holy of Holies:
“Once Heavenly Love sent down a burning kiss
Upon my brow, in Sabbath silence holy;
And, filled with mystic presage, chimed the church bell slowly,
And prayer dissolved me in a fervent bliss,—
A sweet, uncomprehended yearning
Drove forth my feet through woods and meadows free,
And while a thousand tears were burning,