CHAPTER VIII.
THE WORLD OF DOUBT.
When we turn from our world of ideals to the
world actually about us, our position is not at once
a happy position. These ideals that we have agreed
upon, in so far as they are our own, do not make the
world, and people differ endlessly about what the
world is and means. Very naturally, then, we also
must ourselves begin with difficulties and doubts.
For if we want a religious doctrine that in these days
can stand us in good stead, we must fear nothing,
and must run the risk of all the disasters of thought.
The warfare of faiths is so angry and ancient, that
we must be content if, with our best efforts, we get
anything out of it at all. As millions of brains must
toil, doubtless, for centuries before any amount of
ideal agreement among men is attained or even
approximated, we must be content if we do very little
and work very hard. We can be tolerably certain
that in a world where nearly all is dark very much
of our labor will be wasted. But this is natural.
There is the delight of activity in truth-seeking; but
when, at the outset, you compare your hopes and
claims with the shadowy and doubtful results that
you may reach, the comparison cannot seem
otherwise than melancholy. Through the failures of mil-
