What's the good of asking?
You can't see it: you can only see what it does.

What good would it do us if we knew all about it?
There it is, and it's going to revolutionise the world.

It's no good asking--no one knows what it is and where it comes from, or what it looks like.
It's better to go it blind, because you feel the power, though you can't see where it comes from.

You can't tell where the fields of Eden are, but you believe they're somewhere, and that you'll get to them some day.
So say your prayers, believe all you can, don't ask questions, and don't try to answer 'em; and remember that Charley Steele preached to you the fear of the Lord at the Cote Dorion, and wound up the service with the fine old hymn: "'I'll away, I'll away, to the promised land--'" A whole verse of this camp-meeting hymn he sang in an ominous silence now, for it had crept into their minds that the hymn they had previously sung so loudly was a Protestant hymn, and that this was another Protestant hymn of the rankest sort.

When he stopped singing and pushed over his glass for Suzon to fill it, the crowd were noiseless and silent for a moment, for the spell was still on them.