How dear, how soothing to man, arises the idea of God, peopling the lonely place, effacing the scars of our mistakes and disappointments.--_Emerson._
That grand sin of atheism or impiety, Melancthon calls it _monstrosam melancholiam_, monstrous melancholy; or _venenatam melancholiam_, poisoned melancholy.--_Burton._
It would be very far from the truth to say that when people cast off their orthodox creeds they turn their morals out of doors. Some of the noblest and most beautiful souls maintain their pure and lovely lives in spite of their having long ceased to be Christians--that is, as far as they can tell--for sure it is that many such follow Christ and know it not, perhaps follow Him very much closer than more orthodox believers. Still, it must be confessed from an impartial view of the question, that these cases are quite exceptional, that they cannot be claimed as the fruits of atheism. For one such opponent of Christian teaching who lives an exemplary life in spite of his want of faith, a thousand quiet, self-sacrificing men and women could be found. Of course, philosophy and high culture will do something for mankind. It did something for the pagan world, it does much for the Buddhist and Confucian peoples. But the note of all these philosophers is Melancholy, and the note of all true Christian folk is Cheerfulness. "Christianity alone stands between the human intellect and madness."
Elsworth could not but notice the despair which at times and in moments of confidence was so manifest in Dr. Day and his daughter, and Linda and her brother; they were "without hope and without God in the world." They often lamented that they could not believe, and enjoy the peace of God that passes all understanding. How often in the wards of the hospital or at the bedsides of out-door patients had he been moved by the contrast offered by the simple, sublime faith of some poor suffering Christian man or woman, whose sick-room was illumined by a light that never sprang from the human intellect, but rayed forth from the face of God Himself. Peace that yet was not indifference, cheerfulness that was not stoicism, made the chambers and the couches of these men and women unspeakably different from those of their unbelieving neighbours. Prayer, "the window that opens towards the infinite," as a great writer has beautifully expressed it, brought light and warmth and joy to these poor souls; and his atheist friends would not have made proselytes of them on any account. They said that for these folk their religion was philosophy made easy, and thought this accounted for the matter satisfactorily.