The
peace is God's; and he must give it himself, with his own hand, or
we shall never get it. Go then to God himself. Thou art his child,
as Christmas-day declares: be not afraid to go unto thy Father.
Pray to him; tell him what thou wantest: say, Father, I am not
moderate, reasonable, forbearing. I fear I cannot keep Christmas-
day aright, for I have not a peaceful Christmas spirit in me; and I
know that I shall never get it by thinking, and reading, and
understanding; for it passes all that, and lies far away beyond it,
does peace, in the very essence of thine undivided, unmoved,
absolute, eternal Godhead, which no change nor decay of this created
world, nor sin or folly of men or devils, can ever alter; but which
abideth for ever what it is, in perfect rest, and perfect power, and
perfect love. O Father, give me thy peace. Soothe this restless,
greedy, fretful soul of mine, as a mother soothes a sick and
feverish child. How thou wilt do it I do not know. It passes all
understanding. But though the sick child cannot reach the mother,
the mother is at hand, and can reach it. Though the eagle, by
flying, cannot reach the sun, yet the sun is at hand, and can reach
all the earth, and pour its light and warmth over all things. And
thou art more than a mother: thou art the everlasting Father.
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