_But Wisdom--whence cometh it, And where is the place of understanding? It is hid from the eyes of all creatures, And concealed from the fowls of the air. Abaddon and Death acknowledge: “But a rumour thereof have we heard.” God alone hath perceived the way to it, He knoweth the place thereof-- Even He that made weights for the wind And meted the waters by measure, When He made a law for the rain, And a way for the flash of the thunders. Then did He see it and mark it: He established and searched it out_ (Job 28^{20-27}).[78] “The Humanism of the Bible”--who would ask finer acknowledgment of one aspect of life, its profound mystery; who could fail to hear in those grand but desolate words the pathos of our mortal ignorance voicing its immortal longing? Happier than this poet, and more in accord with ordinary human experience, were the Wise-men of _Proverbs_; for theirs was the faith that, though Wisdom might dwell in the innermost light of God’s presence, the boon of its guidance was not wholly denied to men. They praised its exceeding great glory, acknowledging its transcendence, yet quietly rejoicing in the measure of knowledge they were conscious of receiving: _Wisdom is the principal thing, Therefore get Wisdom: Yea! with all that thou hast gotten Get understanding_ (Pr. 4^{7}). CHAPTER X The Hill “Difficulty” The Wise had not found the last secrets of Wisdom. There were ranges of human nature beyond their imagining, there were paths to salvation not visible from the highroad of respectability. Perhaps they suspected as much in moments when the sublimity of Wisdom towered over them. But usually no doubt they felt convinced that, given an unquestioning acceptance of their precepts, this world would be made perfect. Better it would have been, but that is all. Perfection is higher than climbing humanity believes, and short cuts to the summit prove delusive. Mechanical obedience to rules and regulations for our conduct will certainly not suffice, for character fails to ripen in that dry soil. So to reverence the past as to accept its thoughts as finished standards, requiring from us only the repetition of the lips and not the re-affirmation or re-statement of heart and intellect, is to exclude the possibility of progress; and that, racially, is the unpardonable sin. Tradition, an invaluable servant, is a fatal master. God means us to own no ultimate authority save His eternal and ever-present Spirit. There was room in the world for many a Ben Sirach, but there was even more room for men like St. Peter and St. Paul, who could break free from conventional standards of morality, and penetrate further into the exceeding great and precious promises of God.