No, as we sit here in the twilight it seems to me that the province of reason is not to be straining its eyes to map out the huge mysteries which still lie in the dim distance; and to declare that those masses are shapeless, whose shape it cannot trace. Is it not rather to consider and to decide concerning those things which are placed within its scope? To satisfy itself as to our Guide, as to the reliability of the proofs of His being really what He claims to be; to search whether these things be so, and then implicitly to follow that Guide through uncertainty into certainty, out of the twilight into the clear day? This is not to fetter reason, to cramp thought. It is merely to confine it to its legitimate sphere. It is to acknowledge ourselves now in the dusk, but expecting the full morning; to own ourselves children now, but children who will one day be men. Are we not little children here; our very reason doubtless in its twilight; probably as unable--even were they explained to us--to take in God’s counsels, as a child just capable of an addition-sum would be unable to master and understand the science of astronomy? Would anyone who considered wisely of these things, even wish that this present state should be our manhood? Oh, low view to take of man’s magnificent destiny! What? This all? To-day’s blunders food for to-morrow’s corrections; schemes of science changing every year; nothing certain, nothing known? Are we to grow no bigger in knowledge, are we to grow no bigger in capacity, than this? Is such dim twilight really our full day? Ah, dreary prospect then, mournful lot! But away with so mean a view of man’s future; with such a cramping of man’s reason! Little children are we, must we be, with regard to the stupendous plans and counsels of God, so long as we have no more than our present amount of Revelation. We may advance in the world’s knowledge, but we must be content to sit down in the twilight before God’s ways and counsels, still as listeners, still as learners, reverent, teachable, humble; little children still. How can it be otherwise? We hear of the boasted advance of education and knowledge; we hear of reason more cultivated, and thought more free to soar. All very well; but does this, can this touch the subject of which I speak? In acquiring any further knowledge of God’s hidden things, have we advanced at all? Is there in our possession any more material on which to set reason to work, than since the last Apostle wrote the last epistle? Have we advanced? can we advance? Must we not still be children, must we not still make the most of twilight, until, having grown to manhood, the full light bursts upon us in another world, and we see no more in an ænigma darkly, but face to face; know no more in part only, but even as we are known?