turnedtoit。ThencameasetofyearswhensometimesIfoundit，andthenagainIwouldbewhollyunabletomakeconnectionwithit。Iremembermanyoccasionsonwhichatnightinbed，I
wouldbeunabletogettosleeponaccountofworry。Iturnedthiswayandthatinthedarkness，andgropedmentallyforthefamiliarsenseofthathighermindofmymindwhichhadalwaysseemedtobecloseathandasitwere，closingthepassage，andyieldingsupport，buttherewasnoelectriccurrent。AblankwasthereinsteadofIT：Icouldn’tfindanything。Now，attheageofnearlyfifty，mypowerofgettingintoconnectionwithithasentirelyleftme；andIhavetoconfessthatagreathelphasgoneoutofmylife。Lifehasbecomecuriouslydeadand
indifferent；andIcannowseethatmyoldexperiencewasprobablyexactlythesamethingastheprayersoftheorthodox，onlyIdidnotcallthembythatname。WhatIhavespokenofas’It’waspracticallynotSpencer’sUnknowable，butjustmyowninstinctiveandindividualGod，whomIrelieduponforhighersympathy，butwhomsomehowIhavelost。”
Nothingismorecommoninthepagesofreligiousbiographythanthewayinwhichseasonsoflivelyandofdifficultfaitharedescribedasalternating。Probablyeveryreligiouspersonhastherecollectionofparticularcrisisinwhichadirectervisionofthetruth，adirectperception，perhaps，ofalivingGod’sexistence，sweptinandoverwhelmedthelanguorofthemoreordinarybelief。InJamesRussellLowell’scorrespondencethereisabriefmemorandumofanexperienceofthiskind：——
“IhadarevelationlastFridayevening。IwasatMary’s，andhappeningtosaysomethingofthepresenceofspiritsofwhom，I