The Gospel of Joy by Stopford A. Brooke

Author:Stopford A. Brooke [Unbekannt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Religion
Publisher: Jazzybee Verlag
Published: 2017-04-26T22:00:00+00:00

THE THIRST FOR GOD

As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after Thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God.

Psalms xlii. i. 2

WHEN I pass through the streets, day after day, amid the crowds of London, and see the faces that glance for a moment at me, and I at them, the passion of the world almost overwhelms me. Desire looks out from the eyes of humanity as eagerly as a Queen from her tower window for the return of her warriors from the field where the fate of her empire and herself is to be decided. Some want, some noble or ignoble passion, some hope, some greed, some unfulfilled desire thirsts in every man and woman. Though the things thirsted for are different, the thirst itself is the same in kind; but it varies indefinitely in degree. In some it parches always, in others it concentrates itself in moments; but it never allows any of us to altogether rest. We are like wanderers through a dry land who find enough water to save them from death, but never enough to satisfy them.

The very body is affected by the unquiet of inward desire. The moving hands, the walk, the attitudes, tell of the craving soul. Even in those who have learnt or inherited the mastery of the body, the mouth trembles, the eyes flash, in unguarded moments, and speak the cravings that are athirst within. " My soul is athirst " is a universal cry; the cry which, however men may make us descend from the brute, separates us from the brute by an infinite, unbridgeable gulf No brute has ever thirsted for fame, or wealth, or love as we understand it, for knowledge or for beauty. But we do.

We thirst for fame. Ambition is a common passion, not only " that last infirmity of noble mind," but the first infirmity of ordinary men. The way to fame is long and weary; and the common man turns to an easier desire. But the other who persists leaves behind the quiet ways, and strikes upwards to the mountain-top. The way is steep and rugged; our very heart is worn before we win what we desired; and when it is won, we are still in want. The pool on the mountain rock, at which on that lonely height we drink, is shallow; the water is brackish, and it is soon exhausted. " I am," we cry, " as thirsty as before, but I know not for what I thirst. God! hast Thou brought me here only to prove that I have been mistaken all my life?

To win what I wished for, and find it as dry as a bone — the abyss of Being empty still, the craving of it for life still as fierce as when I was young." And God answers in his soul: " Of thine own will art thou here, not of mine. Earth's ambitions exhaust my children and are themselves exhausted.

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