I feel this truth 'in seasons of calm weather.' But at other times I ask myself, I ask God, angrily, Why should some men have no obstacle to their love? Why should another suffer more than any one can tell--more than, it sometimes seems to me, can ever be requited? I cannot answer the question. But I often think of the great unsatisfied heart of God, and then I think of this poor unsatisfied heart made in His image, and I feel that He understands me, and that I understand Him better than I used to do, before this terrible hunger of love began. I pray God that He will deal tenderly with you, G----, and I am sure that He will. It cuts me to the heart to think of your suffering, and I would stop it this moment if I could. So would God--for He loves you more than I do--unless it were the best thing for you. It is written of the Son of man, _emathen aph on epathen_. May the same words be true of you and of me! God bless you and give you Light and Peace! Peace is something more than joy, Even the joys above; For peace, of all created things, Is likest Him we love. [Transcriber's note: The Greek phrase in the above paragraph was transliterated as follows: _emathen_--epsilon, mu, alpha, theta, epsilon, nu; _aph_--alpha, phi; _on_--emega, nu; _epathen_--epsilon, pi, alpha, theta, epsilon, nu] This letter may appear cold to you. It is not. I feel more deeply than I write. . . . Some day, if {125} you care to hear, I will tell you something about my own imperfect life. I can't write it down. Later the day will dawn. But God sends the darkness that we may learn to trust Him, I have never yet found Him to fail. We cannot trust Him too much. _To the mother of a friend, after having been present at his funeral._ Cambridge: April 22, 1900.