There never was
a meeker man; there never was a man more truly fitted with those
characteristics of piety which are essentially and only Christian.
With charity he was filled, though he had but little to bestow--his
whole intellect was subordinated to his faith--and with the light
of hope his little eyes glittered so long as one straw lay floating
on the tide.
This is the man whom Christianity demands, and this the very man whom
Christianity crushes like a slug under the heel. He is bound to be
a failure--bound to hope too much, be blind with faith, and give,
out of charity, with the witless hand that knows not where to bestow.
For ten years he had held the parish of Cailsham, fulfilling all his
duties by that rule of thumb which is the refuge to all those lacking
in initiative. Not one of the parishioners could find any fault with
him, yet none bore him respect. They blinked through his services.
During his deliberate intoning of the lessons, they thought of all
their worldly affairs, and while he preached, they slept.
Hundreds of parishes are served with men like the Rev. Samuel Bishop.
It is half the decay of Christianity that the prospect of a fat living
will induce men to adopt the profession of the Church.
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