p163 [Mons. Eynard] [From the French.] VERY DEAR BROTHER, - You are entering I think upon that period of activity which makes a life of reflection a far more hidden life than before. This is a very real advance in christian life. I liked divine philosophy, it is still to my taste. As long as the external life is composed of this, we have the appearance of being far more spiritual and deep. Thus, the steam which escapes from the engine, appears to have much more force than that which draws the heavy train, which only appears to offer resistance to the movement that it is sought to give it; but it is when hidden for the most part, that the force really acts. In this way its reality also is put to the proof. And why do I say that it is real progress? It is because it makes less appearance before men, because it is more entirely before God, with whose approval we must be satisfied. We must be content to possess the thing with Him, nay - to find it in Him; but that is to possess it in reality. It is the principle of moral perfection, to enjoy things instead of accrediting oneself with them in the eyes of others. Active christian life is a common life of service, in contact with human passions, faults, and weaknesses, in a word, in contact with the flesh. But to act in it, to introduce God in it, and this is what Christ was, there must be power, we must be really in communion with Him - participating thus in that nature that nothing encroaches on, and which shines in its own perfection in the midst of all - to be above all that we meet with.

Divine philosophy, supposing it to be real, and to meet with no opposition when displayed before others, is an easy enjoyment, and, as I have said, one clothes oneself with it, one displays it to admiring eyes. To walk in christian life, we must be what we admire: that is another thing. We must be divine, in the sense of the communion of His nature. And this is why Jesus was the most isolated of men, and, at the same time, the most accessible, the most affable: the most isolated, because He lived in absolute communion with His Father, and found no echo, no sympathy with the perfect love which was in Him; the most accessible, the most affable, because He was that love for others. Speaking of the ineffable work which opened a way for that love through all the sin, He says: "I have a baptism to be baptised with; and how am I straitened until it is accomplished." That baptism of bitterness and death, which made an end of sin, even in its last stronghold and its last title of destruction, through the righteousness of God against us, gave free course to that love in its infinite designs of grace; for love is of infinite invention for the happiness of that which is loved, and the love of God purposes that which is beyond all our thoughts. It is the spring of the thoughts of the infinite God. And again, when towards the end of His course the opportunity presents itself, at the moment when the unbelief of His own makes Him say, "How long shall I be with you? and suffer you?" (for - and this is what He expects from us in this poor world - there was not, even in His own, faith or capacity to make use of the resources of grace and power which were in Him) He adds, without even a moment's interval, "Bring thy son hither." (Luke 9:41.) The consciousness of being isolated in His love, so that others did not even understand how to profit by it, does not, for a moment, arrest His energy and activity. The same sentence which contains the "how long," says also "bring thy son hither."

What was then the life of this Jesus, the Man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief? A life of activity in obscurity, causing the love of God to penetrate the most hidden corners of society, wherever needs were greatest; among those whom human pride repelled, in order to maintain its own reputation, but whom the love of God sought, because He needed not to establish for Himself a reputation, or to keep one. He was always the same: and the more He apparently compromised Himself, the more He manifested Himself in a perfection which never belied itself. The love of God needed not, like human society, to protect itself from that which laid it too bare. It was always itself. The toilsome life of Jesus was passed in seeking souls in all circumstances. It went through everything that could put it to the proof, but we see in it a divine reality which never failed; then - in presence of self-righteousness and pride, and the tyrannical boldness of the contradiction of sinners, or in favour of some poor crushed soul, or, lastly, to justify the ways of God in their favour - we discover in it from time to time a divine mine of touching, exquisite thoughts, a depth of truth which betrayed its perfection by its simplicity, shewing a soul always fed with the most intimate communion with infinite love and perfect holiness; the One who could say, "We speak that we do know, and testify that we have seen;" who weighed evil by the perfection of good which was in Him, and found, in the fearful discoveries (if we speak of discoveries where all was open) which the holiness of His soul made, opportunities for the manifestation of infinite love - or rather, it was the love of a holy Being which made these discoveries, a love which clothed itself with a grace which, by its very humiliation, placed itself within the reach of all the needs of the heart, and which, at the same time, in presence of the pride of man, shewed itself at the height of the dignity and majesty of God.

How beautiful to see this Person (these divine qualities piercing through the humiliation) place Himself within the reach of those whom the world despised, and find - being wearied with His journey, indebted for a drink of water to a woman who scarcely dare shew herself with others - meat to eat which the world, and even His disciples, knew nothing of; and that, in the deliverance of a poor heart crushed by the weight of a bad conscience and the contempt of her fellow creatures, to whom He had given back (or rather, given) the spring of life and joy. What a prospect! how much of blessing to sinners this opened to His soul; for He did not disdain such consolation in the midst of a world which drove Him from its bosom. Thus love consoles itself: the heart that loves the sinner needs it in such a world. But where is this to be found? In retirement, in the labours of a life which had to do with the common needs of soul, but as abiding in the truth; for this life did not shelter itself from the misery of the world, to walk in the midst of that which has an appearance only, but it brought into it - precious grace! - the love of God. He was that which others could write of.

How many needs, hidden even in the most degraded souls, would confess themselves, would come to light, if a love, a goodness which could give them confidence, were presented to them: but for this, one must be content, often to find oneself in the midst of such degradation, being preserved from it only by what is within; and this was the life of the Lord. How many souls are whirling in pleasure, in order to silence the moral griefs which torment them! Divine love not only answers needs; it makes them speak. It is delightful to see the opening out of a soul, and, at the same time, to see the entrance of spiritual intelligence. One may not exactly seek the degradation I speak of, but we find the world knowing that is the truth as to what is found there, and its external forms do not rebuff the soul. But it is a life of labour, of patience and of happiness, the like of which cannot be found. Christ could say through all, "That they may have my joy fulfilled in themselves." Without doubt there are diversities of gifts, but even when God opens this path before us in His grace, how slow we are to follow the track of the One who draws us there!

Courage, dear brother! grace is there in the path which He has opened to us; we find it every day as we go along; and what glory, when all the principles which have been formed in the heart by faith, blossom in heaven, and are reproduced in the fulness of their results, according to the heart of God. We must wait while walking by faith. But I must stop.

I am at -, where I am pursuing a very humble work, a work of detail, but a work in which I am very happy, feeling I am at my post, and even with little desire to leave it. God in His great goodness refreshes me a little, when I see souls refreshed and happy in the thought of His precious and perfect grace. It is a little work, but I see in it the good hand of God, who in spite of our weakness makes us feel a little how good it is to be with Him. …

October 1st, 1849.

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