It was this: that, whereas in
former times the name Christ had been to him little more than a dull
theological symbol, the thought of him and of his thoughts was now
constantly with him; ever and anon some fresh light would break from
the cloudy halo that enwrapped his grandeur; ever was he growing
more the Son of Man to his loving heart, ever more the Son of God to
his aspiring spirit. Testimony had merged almost in vision: he saw
into, and partly understood the perfection it presented: he looked
upon the face of God and lived. Oftener and oftener, as the days
passed, did it seem as if the man were by his side, and at times, in
the stillness of the summer-eve, when he walked alone, it seemed
almost, as thoughts of revealing arose in his heart, that the Master
himself was teaching him in spoken words. What need now to rack his
soul in following the dim-seen, ever evanishing paths of
metaphysics! he had but to obey the prophet of life, the man whose
being and doing and teaching were blended in one three-fold harmony,
or rather, were the three-fold analysis of one white essence--he had
but to obey him, haunt his footsteps, and hearken after the sound of
his spirit, and all truth would in healthy process be unfolded in
himself.
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