The constellations attracted his attention.

There hung Orion, there the Pleiades, there those mists of starlight which tell us of space and time of which we cannot conceive.

Standing, looking upwards, he suddenly believed himself to be in the neighbourhood of God.
When the keen air upon his bare head had driven him indoors, he sat down again to formulate his good resolutions, he found that his candles of expediency and morality had gone out.

The light which was there instead was the Presence of God; but so diffused was this light, so dim, that it was as hard for him now to see distinction between right and wrong as it would have been outside upon the snow to see a shadow cast by rays which had left their stars half a century before.

All, all of which he could think seemed wrong, because it was not God; all, all of which he could think seemed right, because it was part of God.