This had come almost as a matter of course.
For weeks his mind had been playing about this idea. He had talked to Letty of this Finite God, who is the king of man’s adventure in space and time. But hitherto God had been for him a thing of the intelligence, a theory, a report, something told about but not realised.... Mr. Britling’s thinking about God hitherto had been like some one who has found an empty house, very beautiful and pleasant, full of the promise of a fine personality. And then as the discoverer makes his lonely, curious explorations, he hears downstairs, dear and friendly, the voice of the Master coming in....
There was no need to despair because he himself was one of the feeble folk. God was with him indeed, and he was with God. The King was coming to his own. Amidst the darknesses and confusions, the nightmare cruelties and the hideous stupidities of the great war, God, the Captain of the World Republic, fought his way to empire. So long as one did one’s best and utmost in a cause so mighty, did it matter though the thing one did was little and poor?
“I have thought too much of myself,” said Mr. Britling, “and of what I would do by myself. I have forgotten that which was with me....”
He turned over the rest of the night’s writing presently, and read it now as though it was the work of another man.
These later notes were fragmentary, and written in a sprawling hand.
"Let us make ourselves
watchers and guardians of the order of the
"If only for love of our dead....