"I do not know," answered the philosopher.

"I do not know that it would be safe for the gods to pardon." So the poet sends Macbeth out into the black night and the blinding storm to be thrown to the ground by forces that twist off trees and hiss among the wounded boughs and bleeding branches.
For poor Jean Valjean, weeping bitterly for his sins, while he watched the boy play with the buttercups and prayed that God would give him, the red and horny-handed criminal, to feel again as he felt when he pressed his dewy cheek against his mother's knee--for Jean Valjean is there no suffering friend, no forgiving heart?
Is there no bosom where poor Magdalene can sob out her bitter confession?
What if God were the soul's father! What if he too serves and suffers vicariously! What if his throne is not marble but mercy! What if nature and life do but interpret in the small this divine principle existing in the large in him who is infinite! [1] What if Calvary is God's eternal heartache, manifest in time! What if, sore-footed and heavy-hearted, bruised with many a fall, we should come back to the old home, from which once we fled away, gay and foolish prodigals! The time was when, as small boys and girls, with blinding tears, we groped toward the mother's bosom and sobbed out our bitter pain and sorrow with the full story of our sin.
What if the form on Calvary were like the king of eternity, toiling up the hill of time, his feet bare, his locks all wet with the dew of night, while he cries: "Oh, Absalom! my son, my son, Absalom!" What if we are Absalom, and have hurt God's heart! Reason staggers.

Groping, trusting, hoping, we fall blindly on the stairs that slope through darkness up to God.

But, falling, we fall into the arms of Him who hath suffered vicariously for man from the foundation of the world.
[1] Eternal Atonement, p.

11.
GENIUS, AND THE DEBT OF STRENGTH.
"Paul says: 'I am a debtor.' But what had he received from the Greeks that he was bound to pay back?
Was he a disciple of their philosophy?
He was not.