Minus a star for the ending. I am not without hope; I hate that feeling it gave me. (Although after writing this I feel a bit bad. How can I fault a book for something intended? Or what if- what if- no, I will leave it a four.)  

Certainly not my favorite from C. S. Lewis. Did I just not pay enough attention? I didn't get the book. Yet the Light and Morning I will not soon forget--

My underlined pieces:

"And not through Eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light."

For all that can be shaken will be shaken and only the unshakeable remains.

'How soon do you think I could begin painting?' it asked.
The Spirit broke into laughter. 'Don't you see you'll never paint at all if that's what you're thinking about?' he said.
'What do you mean?' asked the Ghost.
'Why, if you are interested in the country only for the sake of painting it, you'll never learn to see the country.'
'But that's just how a real artist is interested in the country.'
'No. You're forgetting,' said the Spirit. 'That was not how you began. Light itself was your first love: you loved paint only as a means of telling about light.'

'Every natural love will rise again and live forever in this country: but none will rise again until it has been buried.'

'It comes, it comes!' they sang. 'Sleepers awake! It comes, it comes, it comes.'

and then, of course, the promise 

'No soul that seriously and consistantly desires joy will ever miss it. Those who seek find. To those who knock it is opened.'