The slavish man regards his own dominion over himself as a freedom infinitely greater than the range of the universe of God’s being. If he says, “At least I have it my own way!” I answer, you do not know what is your way and what is not. You know nothing of whence your impulses, your desires come. They may spring now from some chance, as of nerves diseased; now from some infant hate in your heart; now from the greed or lawlessness of some ancestor you would be ashamed of if you know him; or it may be now from some far-piercing chord of a heavenly orchestra: the moment it comes up into your consciousness, you call it your own way, and glory in it! Two devils amusing themselves, one at each ear, might soon make that lordly me you are so in love with rejoice in the freedom of willing the opposite each alternate moment. The whole question rests on the relation of creative and created, of which few seem to have the consciousness yet developed. Freedom from God can only mean an incapacity for seeing the facts of existence, an incapability of understanding the glory of the creature who makes common cause with his creator in his creation of him, who wills that the lovely will calling him into life and giving him choice, should finish making him, should draw him into the circle of the creative heart, to joy that he lives by no poor power of his own, but is one with the causing life of his life. Such a creature knows the life of the infinite Father as the very flame of his life, and joys that nothing is done in the universe which the Father will not share with him as much as perfect generosity can make possible.