A man must not choose his neighbor; he must take the neighbor that God sends him. In him, whoever he be, lies, hidden or revealed, a beautiful brother. The neighbor is just the man who is next to you at the moment, the man with whom any business has brought you in contact...
My brother in the flesh is my first neighbor, that I may learn brotherhood. My second neighbor is anyone with whom I have human dealings: the man who mends my clothes; the man who drives me in his cab, the man who begs from me in the street, and to whom, it may be, for his own sake, I must not give.
This commending of our spirits to the Father is not a grievous burden, but the highest privilege we possess, the simplest, most blessed thing in the world. For a man may say, I am going out into the business and turmoil of the day, where so many temptations may come to do less faithfully, less kindly, less diligently than the Lord would have me do. Father, into thy hands.
He had been amongst his brethren what he would have his brethren be. He had done for them what he would have them do for God and for each other. God was henceforth inside and beneath them, as well as around and above them, suffering with them and for them, giving them all he had, his very life-being, his essence of existence, what best he loved, what best he was.
But what is to be done when all feeling is gone? When a man does not know whether he believes or not, whether he loves or not? When art, poetry, religion are nothing to him, so swallowed up is he in pain, or mental depression, or temptation, or he knows not what. It seems to him then that God does not care for him, and certainly he does not care for God.