All that I have known of happiness has come to me through being made a child again. The efforts to find something to satisfy my inward longings, which were made through the intellectual nature, were as powerless to sustain me as a theory of bread-making would be to satisfy a hungry man. How far our sorrows and losses may help us in making us willing to receive what Heaven bestows, I know not; but when we find how fruitless our efforts are, we are as helpless as little children. Then, if humble and willing to wait, Jesus Christ will Himself come to us, a dear, human friend; and then we shall be surprised to find He was walking with us all the while when the path seemed so dark and lonely, and, dear me! how different every thing now appears. The world looks too beautiful to leave, yet, somehow, we were never so willing to leave it.
Happiness