The Henson Journals

[712]

Monday, March 27th, 1916.

602nd day

A beautiful bright day. A ninth nest is going up in the nested tree, but whether it will be suffered to remain is a question. There was much clamour & quarrelling among the black–coats. I went to the Cathedral at 8 a.m. and received the Holy Communion. Cruickshank celebrated.

I spent the morning in composing a long letter to Sir Victor Horsley in reply to the very intemperately worded letter which he addressed to me from Egypt. After making a copy of my composition, I despatched it by the evening post. I received a long and affectionate letter from Ernest, movingly expressed. I wrote to him at once, thinking that a kind message would be welcome in his present state of mind. I walked with Logic, and attended Evensong. Grace Copland arrived by the afternoon train from Edinburgh, on her way to join her husband at Ripon, where he has command of some troops. Two of the officer instructors – Captn Dixon & Captn Lewis – came to dinner.

Ernest has sent me two sermons which he wrote & preached in Canada, & some other of his compositions. It is a doubtful advantage to begin where one ought to leave off. Preaching should be the crown & climax of ministry, that in which all the achievments [sic] of discipline & learning find expression. But very commonly it precedes both discipline & learning, expressing nothing more than the ardour of a youthful spirit, the audacious dogmatism of youthful ignorance, & the facile emotions of a youthful mind. When these begin to fail – a consequence of premature exhaustion & the cruel effects of increasing age – the youthful élan & charm pass, & the intrinsic defects of knowledge, discipline, & experience become apparent. Then, too late, the attempt is made to repair the mischief. In this belated effort there is great sadness and small reward.

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