“My whole upbringing, customs of childhood, and the poetical image of Christ and all that belongs to His teaching, are so deeply implanted in me, that involuntarily I find myself calling upon Him in my grief and thanking Him in my happiness. “
These words were written by an unsaved man.
He was a confused, cynical artist wavering between religion and agnosticism. He knew Christian truth, but was certainly not Christian. His view of religion was to pick and choose what was easy for him to believe. He hated God’s ways, he loved sin, he feared heaven.
And yet he prayed. Regularly. Naturally. It flowed out of him by habit.