I felt myself, like St. Augustine, but a "seller of rhetoric." I was
inculcating a method of life which I myself did not obey, or obeyed
only in those respects that caused me neither sacrifice nor
inconvenience. In order to continue such labours at all various forms
of excuse and self-deception were required. Thus I flattered myself
that I was at least maintaining the authority of morals. I did not
perceive that morals are of no value to the world until vitalized by
emotion. At other times I preached with strenuous zeal the superiority
of the Christian religion, and dilated on its early triumphs. This
pleased my hearers, for it always flatters men to find themselves upon
the winning side. What I wonder at now is that they did not perceive
that my zeal to prove Christianity true was exactly proportioned to my
fear that it was false. Men do not seek to prove that of which they
are assured. Jesus never sought to prove the existence of a God
because He was assured of it; He simply asserted and commanded. In my
heart of hearts I knew that I was not sure. But I did not easily
discover the reason of my uncertainty. I supposed the source to be the
destructive criticism of the Gospels which had reduced Jesus Himself to
a probability. In my private thoughts I argued that it was no longer
possible to feel the intense reality of Christ.
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