Our spiritual life to-day, such as it is, tends above all to express itself in social activities.

Teacher after teacher comes forward to plume himself on the fact that Christianity is now taking a "social form"; that love of our neighbour is not so much the corollary as the equivalent of the love of God, and so forth.

Here I am sure that all can supply themselves with illustrative quotations.

Yet is there in this state of things nothing but food for congratulation?
Is such a view complete?
Is nothing left out?
Have we not lost the wonder and poetry of the forest in our diligent cultivation of the economically valuable trees; and shall we ever see life truly until we see it with the poet's eyes?
There is so much meritorious working and willing; and so little time left for quiet love.

A spiritual fussiness--often a material fussiness too--seems to be taking the place of that inward resort to the fontal sources of our being which is the true religious act, our chance of contact with the Spirit.