She was one of those who feel the need of some
help to live--some upholding that is not of themselves, but who,
through the stupidity of teachers unconsciously false,--men so unfit
that they do not know they are unfit, direct their efforts, first
towards having correct notions, then to work up the feelings that
belong to those notions. She was an honest girl so far as she had
been taught--perhaps not so far as she might have been without
having been taught. How was she to think aright with scarce a
glimmer of God's truth? How was she to please God, as she called
it, who thought of him in a way repulsive to every loving soul? How
was she to be accepted of God, who did not accept her own neighbour,
but looked down, without knowing it, upon so many of her
fellow-creatures? How should such a one either enjoy or recommend
her religion? It would have been the worse for her if she had
enjoyed it--the worse for others if she had recommended it!
Religion is simply the way home to the Father. There was little of
the path in her religion except the difficulty of it. The true way
is difficult enough because of our unchildlikeness--uphill, steep,
and difficult, but there is fresh life on every surmounted height, a
purer air gained, ever more life for more climbing. But the path
that is not the true one is not therefore easy. Up hill is hard
walking, but through a bog is worse.
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