And in the end, as I rose to depart, the doctor held my hand.
"See, old friend," he said, "we are nearer to-night than ever for all our seeming fundamental differences, and you will not mind what I have to say.
"To you the idea of God is so great, so infinitely high, that the notion of personal friendship with such an One would seem to be an almost criminal impertinence, and the idea of His interference in our trivial hum-drum lives a gross profanity.
"To me, a plain man, and not greatly read, this personal God, this Friend Christ, is more than all else has to offer me.
"It is life's motive, and weapon, and solace, and joy. It is its light and colour and its very raison d'etre. And I believe that for the great majority of men this idea of the Divine, and this only, is powerful enough to assure them real victory and moral strength.
"I grant you all the beauty, and majesty, and truth, of your ideal, but I would no more dare to lay it before an average healthy, passionate man alone than I would to send an army into battle—with a position to take—unarmed and leaderless."
The doctor paused. Then:
"Forgive me," he said, "I don't often talk like this, but, believe me, it is the knowledge of his God, as a strong, sympathetic, personal friend, that Tommy needs—that most of us need—to ensure life's truest success."
We shook hands again and parted.