As I am growing older (no use denying it any longer, eh?) I was very much encouraged by this word from George MacDonald. “The winter is the childhood of the year . . . It is as if God spoke to each of us according to our need: My son, my daughter, you are growing old and cunning; you must grow a child again, with My Son, this blessed birth-time. You are growing old and selfish; you must become a child. You are growing old and careful; you must become a child. You are growing old and distrustful; you must become a child. You are growing old and petty, and weak, and foolish; you must become a child — My child . . . ” (Meditations from George MacDonald’s fiction)