We, imperfect sons, shall learn to say the same words too: that we may grow capable and say them, and so enter into our birthright, yea, become partakers of the divine nature in its divinest element, that Son came to us—died for the slaying of our selfishness, the destruction of our mean hollow pride, the waking of our childhood. We are his father’s debtors for our needs, our rights, our claims, and he will have us pay the uttermost farthing. Yea, so true is the Father, he will even compel us, through