What I most enjoy about it is the larger horizons it opens upon our true spiritual sight,--glimpses only, it is true,--but we could not bear more than that, doubtless. And the moral and spiritual truth it unfolds and inculcates is of the loftiest. It harmonizes so entirely with the highest Christianity, no believer in that can find cause for cavil. And yet, it is far behind the spirit of Christianity, as we have it from the Divine Teacher’s lips and life; in that the common mind is shut out from a clear comprehension of its meaning. “The simplicity that is in Christ” is the true gospel, whatever wisdom beside this may be given to sages and seekers. The gospel for the poor and the ignorant is the gospel for us all. And I suppose those that go farthest into these other deep secrets are the humblest. Spiritual pride is indeed pronounced the greatest of all sins by these, and by Christian souls. But how beautiful it is to know that truth is one, and that life is one, and that all over the world, and through all the ages, men are entering into and sharing the great inheritance! I may find much that I cannot accept, but what of that, if I am brought nearer to the heart of humanity, in its fraternal aspirations towards the Father of our spirits! Faithfully thy friend, LUCY LARCOM. 233 CLARENDON STREET, BOSTON, December 28, 1886. DEAR MISS LARCOM,--I cannot let your kind note pass without at least a word of gratitude and welcome. It is good to know that you are in Boston again, and that I may sometimes speak to you on Sundays. I should be sorry indeed to think that the winter would pass without letting me, somewhere, sometime, come to more familiar friendly talk with you. You will find me the chance, I hope, either by coming here, or letting me know where I may come to you. At any rate, I am glad that you are here, and I send you my best New Year’s wishes. I do not want you to think that I am aspiring to poetry. “The Little Town of Bethlehem” was written more than twenty years ago, for a Christmas service of my Sunday school in Philadelphia. It has been printed in hymn-books since, and sung at a good many Christmases, and where the newspapers find it, all of a sudden, I do not know! Ever faithfully your friend, PHILLIPS BROOKS.