“May we not sometimes lie indolently warming ourselves by a fire of our own, and fancy it as comfortable as basking in the sun? Walking in the light is no such easy matter; and in my case I find that the words, and, above all, the examples, of those who have earnestly contended for the truth, as so many outstretched and helping hands to assist me in climbing the hill.”
“What hill?”
“The high hill, Master Juxon, where the reformers and martyrs of past times have left the print of their blessed footsteps.”
“Cuthbert, I see that you are in earnest, that you are sincere; but you are on a road beset by enemies, to the full as dangerous as those on any other. Pride may be waiting to assail you,—spiritual pride, the worst of all enemies: you want to do something; you would unlock heaven’s gates by some great performance:—remember its arches are so low that none can enter them who crawl not on their knees:—the little child’s is the appointed stature for all believers.”
“That, indeed, is true—it is a solemn truth; but there are beasts to be fought with, Juxon, and the stern combat is at hand. It is upon this I think by day, on this I dream by night.”
“So much the worse: you are commanded, in many senses, to ‘take no thought for the morrow;’ and in none is it more your duty to obey the precept than in waiting the events of the coming day in quietness and in confidence: you conjure up shadows that you may fight with them.”
“Nay, but you wrong my judgment:—to you they may so seem; but my eye can see the black and dismal realities beyond, which reflect these shadows.”
“Well, Cuthbert, it is vain to talk with you on these subjects:—on all others you are so clear and reasonable, that I shall always remember our intercourse with pleasure. I hear that there is a new arrangement, and that you do not wait to accompany Arthur to Oxford; but that you leave Milverton next week, therefore, very probably, I shall not see you again till your departure. Farewell, friend: my best and warmest wishes for your happiness will always accompany you. I shall ever be happy to hear of or from you, and be delighted to meet you again.”
With these words he put out his hand to Cuthbert, who grasped it eagerly, and struggled for a reply in vain.