Its very nature is hid from you. I use but a poor figure
when I say that the roots of your heart go down beyond your
knowledge--whole eternities beyond it--into the heart of God. If you
have never yet made one discovery in your heart, your testimony
concerning it is not worth a tuft of flue; and if you have made
discoveries in it, does not the fact reveal that it is but little known
to you, and that there must be discoveries innumerable yet to be made in
it? To him who has been making discoveries in it for fifty years, the
depths of his heart are yet a mystery--a mystery, however, peopled with
loveliest hopes. I repeat whether the man knows it or not, his heart in
its depths is ever crying out for God.
Where the man does not know it, it is because the unfaithful Self, a
would-be monarch, has usurped the consciousness; the demon-man is
uppermost, not Christ-man; he is down in the crying heart, and the
demon-man--that is the self that worships itself--is trampling on the
heart and smothering it up in the rubbish of ambitions, lusts, and
cares. If ever its cry reaches that Self, it calls it childish folly,
and tramples the harder.
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