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Updated: May 27, 2025
Faber's interpretation of this identity. The Doctor's censure of English expositors in one of his notes will too often justly apply to other divines in expounding prophecy: "They have greatly diminished the value of their publications, by permitting themselves to indulge so much of the spirit of political partiality." Doctor M'Leod and Mr.
We stood listening. She sang Faber's 'Pilgrims of the Night. The words were trivial, but the air, though simple, had something weird and unearthly about it. 'Take me away, he said, after a few minutes, 'I shall cry if I stay longer."
Then the words of Ayesha rushed over me: "What mourner can be consoled, if the Dead die forever?" Through every pulse of my frame throbbed that dread question. All Nature around seemed to murmur it. And suddenly, as by a flash from heaven, the grand truth in Faber's grand reasoning shone on me, and lighted up all, within and without.
That was a happy meeting in all but the fact that Sir Edward Doughty was in weak health. Now comes the dénoûment. Miss Doughty had given Roger a keepsake volume of Father Faber's Hymns, and there was an exchange of gifts. Suddenly the truth flashed across the mind of the father, and he was vexed and angry.
Then it came into the minister's mind, thinking over Faber's religion toward his fellows, and his lack toward God, how when the young man asked Jesus what commandments he must keep up that he might inherit eternal life, Jesus did not say a word concerning those of the first table not a word, that is, about his duty toward God; He spoke only of his duty toward man.
"Allen," said a voice, in which my ear detected the unwonted tremulous faltering, "be firm, be calm. I keep my promise. The hour is come in which you may again see the Lilian of old, mind to mind, soul to soul." Faber's hand took mine, and led me into the house. "You do, then, fear that this interview will be too much for her strength?" said I, whisperingly.
If the course of travel I recommend and the prescriptions I conjoin with that course fail you, let me know; and though I would fain close my days in this land, I will come to you. I love you as my son. I will tend your wife as my daughter." Foreign travel! The idea smiled on me. Julius Faber's companionship, sympathy, matchless skill! The very thought seemed as a raft to a drowning mariner.
But seeming is not being least of all self-seeming. Dishonor will yet be dishonor, if all the fools in creation should be in love with it, and call it glory. In an hour, Juliet woke again, vaguely remembering a heavenly dream, whose odorous air yet lingered, and made her happy, she knew not why. Then what a task would have been Faber's! For he must not go near her.
There is nothing, or next to nothing, which cannot, if adroitly catalogued, be considered a duty; and it is this delicate mental adjustment which is disturbed by Father Faber's ridicule. "Self-deceit," he caustically observes, "seems to thrive on prayer, and to grow fat on contemplation."
You may look in Browne Faber's book, if you like, and you will find that to the present day men of science are unable to account for the presence, or to specify the functions of a certain group of nerve-cells in the brain. That group is, as it were, land to let, a mere waste place for fanciful theories.
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