It Appears To Me That It [sin]

For, Usually And Fitly, The Presence Of An Introduction Is Held To Imply That There Is Something Of Consequence And Importance To Be Introduced.

There Are Sacraments Of Evil As Well As Of Good About Us, And We Live And Move To My Belief In An Unknown World, A Place Where There Are Caves And Shadows And Dwellers In Twilight. It Is Possible That Man May Sometimes Return On The Track Of Evolution, And It Is My Belief That An Awful Lore Is Not Yet Dead.

Here Then Is The Pattern In My Carpet, The Sense Of The Eternal Mysteries, The Eternal Beauty Hidden Beneath The Crust Of Common And Commonplace Things; Hidden And Yet Burning And Glowing Continually If You Care To Look With Purged Eyes.

Very Softly, But Very Swiftly, Last, The Man With The Grey Face And The Staring Eyes, Bolted For His Life, Down And Away From The White House. Once In The Road, Free From The Fields And Brakes, He Changed His Run Into A Walk, And He Never Paused Or Stopped, Till He Came With A Gulp Of Relief Into The Ugly Streets Of The Big Industrial Town. He Made Hi Way To The Station At Once, And Found That He Was An Hour Too Soon For The London Express. So, There Was Plenty Of Time For Breakfast; Which Consisted Of Brandy.

The Saint Endeavors To Recover A Gift Which He Has Lost; The Sinner Tries To Obtain Something Which Was Never His. In Brief, He Repeats The Fall.